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 flood-gate 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
proceedingHath 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
graciouspatience,
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 withal-
I 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
confessperfection 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
sentenceEven 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
imminentdeadly breach,
Of being taken by the
insolent foe
And sold to
slavery, of my redemption
thenceAnd 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 she had something heard,
But not intentively. I did consent,
And often did
beguile her of her tears
When I did speak of some distressful stroke
That my youth suffer'd. My story being done,
She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;
She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas
pitiful, 'twas
wondrouspitiful.
She wish'd she had not heard it, yet she wish'd
That heaven had made her such a man; she thank'd me,
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake:
She loved me for the dangers I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the
witchcraft I have used.
Here comes the lady; let her
witness it.
Enter Desdemona, Iago, and Attendants.
DUKE. I think this tale would win my daughter too.
Good Brabantio,
Take up this mangled matter at the best:
Men do their broken weapons rather use
Than their bare hands.
BRABANTIO. I pray you, hear her speak.
If she
confess that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame
Light on the man! Come
hither, gentle
mistress.
Do you
perceive in all this noble company
Where most you owe obedience?
DESDEMONA. My noble father,
I do
perceive here a divided duty.
To you I am bound for life and education;
My life and education both do learn me
How to respect you; you are the lord of duty,
I am
hitherto your daughter. But here's my husband,
And so much duty as my mother show'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
So much I
challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.
BRABANTIO. God be with you! I have done.
Please it your Grace, on to the state affairs;
I had rather to adopt a child than get it.
Come
hither, Moor.
I here do give thee that with all my heart
Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart
I would keep from thee. For your sake, jewel,
I am glad at soul I have no other child;
For thy escape would teach me tyranny,
To hang clogs on them. I have done, my lord.
DUKE. Let me speak like yourself, and lay a
sentenceWhich, as a grise or step, may help these lovers
Into your favor.
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended
By
seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a
mischief that is past and gone
Is the next way to draw new
mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when Fortune takes,
Patience her
injury a
mockery makes.
The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief;
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
BRABANTIO. So let the Turk of Cyprus us
beguile;
We lose it not so long as we can smile.
He bears the
sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from
thence he hears;
But he bears both the
sentence and the sorrow
That, to pay grief, must of poor
patience borrow.
These
sentences, to sugar or to gall,
Being strong on both sides, are equivocal.
But words are words; I never yet did hear
That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
I
humblybeseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.
DUKE. The Turk with a most
mightypreparation makes for Cyprus.
Othello, the
fortitude of the place is best known to you; and
though we have there a
substitute of most allowed sufficiency,
yet opinion, a
sovereignmistress of effects, throws a more safer
voice on you. You must
therefore be content to slubber the gloss
of your new fortunes with this more
stubborn and boisterous
expedition.
OTHELLO. The
tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down. I do agnize
A natural and
prompt alacrity
I find in
hardness and do undertake
These present wars against the Ottomites.
Most
humblytherefore bending to your state,