The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

I have done the signiory, Shall out-tongue his complaints. ‘Tis yet to know-Which, when I know that boasting is an honor, I shall promulgate-I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege, and my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach’d. For know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine

For the sea’s worth. But, look! What lights come yond?

IAGO. Those are the raised father and his friends.

You were best go in.

OTHELLO. Not I; I must be found.

My parts, my title, and my perfect soul Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?

IAGO. By Janus, I think no.

 

Enter Cassio and certain Officers with torches.

 

OTHELLO. The servants of the Duke? And my lieutenant?

The goodness of the night upon you, friends!

What is the news?

CASSIO. The Duke does greet you, general, And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance, Even on the instant.

OTHELLO. What is the matter, think you?

CASSIO. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine; It is a business of some heat. The galleys Have sent a dozen sequent messengers

This very night at one another’s heels; And many of the consuls, raised and met, Are at the Duke’s already. You have been hotly call’d for, When, being not at your lodging to be found, The Senate hath sent about three several quests To search you out.

OTHELLO. ‘Tis well I am found by you.

I will but spend a word here in the house And go with you. Exit.

CASSIO. Ancient, what makes he here?

IAGO. Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carack; If it prove lawful prize, he’s made forever.

CASSIO. I do not understand.

IAGO. He’s married.

CASSIO. To who?

 

Re-enter Othello.

 

IAGO. Marry, to-Come, captain, will you go?

OTHELLO. Have with you.

CASSIO. Here comes another troop to seek for you.

IAGO. It is Brabantio. General, be advised, He comes to bad intent.

 

Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers with torches and weapons.

 

OTHELLO. Holla! Stand there!

RODERIGO. Signior, it is the Moor.

BRABANTIO. Down with him, thief!

They draw on both sides.

IAGO. You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you.

OTHELLO. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.

Good signior, you shall more command with years Than with your weapons.

BRABANTIO. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow’d my daughter?

Damn’d as thou art, thou hast enchanted her, For I’ll refer me to all things of sense, If she in chains of magic were not bound, Whether a maid so tender, fair, and happy, So opposite to marriage that she shunn’d The wealthy, curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as thou-to fear, not to delight.

Judge me the world, if ‘tis not gross in sense That thou hast practiced on her with foul charms, Abused her delicate youth with drugs or minerals That weaken motion. I’ll have’t disputed on; ‘Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.

I therefore apprehend and do attach thee For an abuser of the world, a practicer Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.

Lay hold upon him. If he do resist,

Subdue him at his peril.

OTHELLO. Hold your hands, Both you of my inclining and the rest.

Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter. Where will you that I go To answer this your charge?

BRABANTIO. To prison, till fit time Of law and course of direct session

Call thee to answer.

OTHELLO. What if I do obey?

How may the Duke be therewith satisfied, Whose messengers are here about my side, Upon some present business of the state To bring me to him?

FIRST OFFICER. ‘Tis true, most worthy signior; The Duke’s in council, and your noble self, I am sure, is sent for.

BRABANTIO. How? The Duke in council?

In this time of the night? Bring him away; Mine’s not an idle cause. The Duke himself, Or any of my brothers of the state,

Cannot but feel this wrong as ‘twere their own; For if such actions may have passage free, Bond slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. Exeunt.

 

SCENE III.

A council chamber. The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending.

 

DUKE. There is no composition in these news That gives them credit.

FIRST SENATOR. Indeed they are disproportion’d; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.

DUKE. And mine, a hundred and forty.

SECOND SENATOR. And mine, two hundred.

But though they jump not on a just accountAs in these cases, where the aim reports, ‘Tis oft with difference-yet do they all confirm A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

DUKE. Nay, it is possible enough to judgement.

I do not so secure me in the error,

But the main article I do approve

In fearful sense.

SAILOR. [Within.] What, ho! What, ho! What, ho!

FIRST OFFICER. A messenger from the galleys.

 

Enter Sailor.

 

DUKE. Now, what’s the business?

SAILOR. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes, So was I bid report here to the state By Signior Angelo.

DUKE. How say you by this change?

FIRST SENATOR. This cannot be, By no assay of reason; ‘tis a pageant To keep us in false gaze. When we consider The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk, And let ourselves again but understand That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes, So may he with more facile question bear it, For that it stands not in such warlike brace, But altogether lacks the abilities

That Rhodes is dress’d in. If we make thought of this, We must not think the Turk is so unskillful To leave that latest which concerns him first, Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain, To wake and wage a danger profitless.

DUKE. Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for Rhodes.

FIRST OFFICER. Here is more news.

 

Enter a Messenger.

 

MESSENGER. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

FIRST SENATOR. Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

MESSENGER. Of thirty sail; and now they do re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano, Your trusty and most valiant servitor, With his free duty recommends you thus, And prays you to believe him.

DUKE. ‘Tis certain then for Cyprus.

Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?

FIRST SENATOR. He’s now in Florence.

DUKE. Write from us to him, post-post-haste dispatch.

FIRST SENATOR. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

 

Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.

 

DUKE. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you Against the general enemy Ottoman.

[To Brabantio.] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior; We lack’d your counsel and your help tonight.

BRABANTIO. So did I yours. Good your Grace, pardon me: Neither my place nor aught I heard of business Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care Take hold on me; for my particular grief Is of so floodgate and o’erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.

DUKE. Why, what’s the matter?

BRABANTIO. My daughter! O, my daughter!

ALL. Dead?

BRABANTIO. Ay, to me.

She is abused, stol’n from me and corrupted By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks; For nature so preposterously to err,

Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, Sans witchcraft could not.

DUKE. Whoe’er he be that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself And you of her, the bloody book of law You shall yourself read in the bitter letter After your own sense, yea, though our proper son Stood in your action.

BRABANTIO. Humbly I thank your Grace.

Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, Your special mandate for the state affairs Hath hither brought.

ALL. We are very sorry for’t.

DUKE. [To Othello.] What in your own part can you say to this?

BRABANTIO. Nothing, but this is so.

OTHELLO. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approved good masters, That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her; The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little blest with the soft phrase of peace; For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish’d tale deliver Of my whole course of love: what drugs, what charms, What conjuration, and what mighty magic-For such proceeding I am charged withalI won his daughter.

BRABANTIO. A maiden never bold, Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion Blush’d at herself; and she-in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, everything-To fall in love with what she fear’d to look on!

It is judgement maim’d and most imperfect, That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell Why this should be. I therefore vouch again That with some mixtures powerful o’er the blood, Or with some dram conjured to this effect, He wrought upon her.

DUKE. To vouch this is no proof, Without more certain and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him.

FIRST SENATOR. But, Othello, speak.

Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid’s affections?

Or came it by request, and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth?

OTHELLO. I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary,

And let her speak of me before her father.

If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall upon my life.

DUKE. Fetch Desdemona hither.

OTHELLO. Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place.

Exeunt Iago and Attendants.

And till she come, as truly as to heaven I do confess the vices of my blood,

So justly to your grave ears I’ll present How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love And she in mine.

DUKE. Say it, Othello.

OTHELLO. Her father loved me, oft invited me, Still question’d me the story of my life From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass’d.

I ran it through, even from my boyish days To the very moment that he bade me tell it: Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents by flood and field, Of hair-breadth ‘scapes i’ the imminent deadly breach, Of being taken by the insolent foe

And sold to slavery, of my redemption thence And portance in my travels’ history;

Wherein of antres vast and deserts idle, Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, It was my hint to speak-such was the process-And of the Cannibals that each other eat, The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear Would Desdemona seriously incline;

But still the house affairs would draw her thence, Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, She’ld come again, and with a greedy ear Devour up my discourse; which I observing, Took once a pliant hour, and found good means To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, Whereof by parcels