1 Sen. Ay, so I thought:-How many, as you

guess?

Mes. Of thirty sail: and now do they re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank ap

pearance

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 Lucchesé, is he not in town?

1 Sen. He's now in Florence.

Duke. Write from us; wish him post-post-haste:

despatch.

1 Sen. 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.

I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;

[To Brabantio. We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night. Bra. So did I yours: Good your grace, pardon

me;

Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business, Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the general

care

Take hold on me; for my particular grief

Is of so flood-gate and o'er-bearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And it is still itself.

Duke.

Why, what's the matter?

Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter!

Sen.

Bra.

Dead?

Ay, to me;

She is abus'd, 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 pro

ceeding,

Hath thus beguil'd 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.

Bra.

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.

Duke & Sen.

We are very sorry for it.

Duke. What, in your own part, can you say to

this?

Bra. Nothing, but this is so.

[To Othello.

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv'd 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 bless'd with the set phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
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 pa: tience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what

charms,

What conjuration, and what mighty magick, (For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,) I won his daughter with.

Bra. 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, every thing,To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on? It is a judgment 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 conjur'd to this effect,

He wrought upon

her.

Duke.

To vouch this, is no proof;

C

Without more certain and more overt test,

Than these thin habits, and

poor likelihoods

Of modern seeming, do prefer against him. 1 Sen. 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?

Oth.

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.

Oth. 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.

Oth. Her father lov'd 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 travel's history:

Wherein of antres vast, and desarts 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. These things to
hear,

Would Desdemona seriously incline:

But still the house affairs would draw her thence;
Which ever as she could with haste despatch,
She'd 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 wondrous pitiful:

She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she wish'd

That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd

me;