SCENE III.
The Same. A Council-Chamber.
The Duke, and Senators, sitting at a Table; Officers attending.
Duke.
There is no composition8 note in these news9 note
,
That gives them credit.
1 Sen.
Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
My letters say, a hundred and seven gallies.
Duke.
And mine, a hundred and forty.
2 Sen.
And mine, two hundred:
But though they jump not on a just account,
(As in these cases, where the aim* note reports1 note
,
'Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.
-- 251 --
Duke.
Nay, it is possible enough to judgment;
I do not so secure me in the error* note,
But the main article I do approve
In fearful sense.
Sailor. [Within.]
What ho! what ho! what ho!
Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.
Off.
A messenger from the gallies.
Duke.
Now,—what's† note the business?
Sail.
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the state,
By signior Angelo2 note.
Duke.
How say you by this change?
1 Sen.
This cannot be,
By no assay of reason3 note; '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 question4 note
bear it,
For that it stands not5 note in such warlike brace6 note,
But altogether lacks the abilities
-- 252 --
That Rhodes is dress'd in:—if we make thought of this,
We must not think, the Turk is so unskilful,
To leave that latest which concerns him first;
Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gain,
To wake, and wage, a danger profitless7 note
.
Duke.
Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
Off.
Here is more news.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,
Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes,
Have there injointed them with an after fleet.
1 Sen.
Ay, so I thought8 note:—How many, as you guess?
Mess.
Of thirty sail: and now do they re-stem9 note
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 him1 note.
Duke.
'Tis certain then for Cyprus.—
Marcus Lucchesé2 note, is he not in town?
-- 253 --
1 Sen.
He's now in Florence.
Duke.
Write from us; wish him3 note post-post-haste: despatch4 note
.
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 Ottoman5 note
.
-- 254 --
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 care6 note
Take hold7 note 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.
Dead?
Bra.
Ay, to me;
She is abus'd, stol'n from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks8 note
:
-- 255 --
For nature so preposterously to err,
Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense9 note,
Sans witchcraft could not1 note
—
-- 256 --
Duke.
Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul proceeding,
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* note, though our proper son
Stood in your action2 note.
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 and Sen.
We are very sorry for it.
Duke.
What, in your own part, can you say to this?
[To Othello.
Bra.
Nothing, but this is so.
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 offending3 note
-- 257 --
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace4 note
;
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,
Till now some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
Their dearest action5 note
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,
-- 258 --
In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd6 note 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 daughter7 note
.
Bra.
A maiden never bold;
Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion
Blush'd at herself8 note; And she,—in spite of nature,
Of years, of country, credit, every thing,—
-- 259 --
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 proof9 note;
Without more certain and more overt test1 note,
Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming2 note
, 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 Sagittary3 note
,
And let her speak of me before her father:
If you do find me foul in her report,
-- 260 --
The trust, the office, I do hold of you4 note,
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 truly5 note as to heaven
I do confess6 note 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 spoke 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 history7 note
:
-- 261 --
Wherein of antres vast8 note
, and desarts idle9 note
,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,
-- 262 --
It was my hint to speak1 note
, such was the process;
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
Do grow beneath their shoulders2 note
10Q0014. These things to hear* note,
-- 263 --
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 discourse3 note
: 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,
-- 264 --
But not intentively4 note
: 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 sighs5 note
:
She swore,—In faith, 'twas strange6 note
, 'twas passing strange;
-- 265 --
'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;
And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,
I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake:
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd;
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd;
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.
-- 266 --
Bra.
I pray you, hear her speak;
If she confess, that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head7 note, 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?
Des.
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 duty8 note,
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 father9 note
,
So much I challenge that I may profess
Due to the Moor, my lord.
Bra.
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,
Which1 note, 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.
-- 267 --
Duke.
Let me speak like yourself2 note
; and lay a sentence,
Which, as a grise3 note
, or step, may help these lovers
Into your favour4 note.
When remedies are past, the griefs are ended5 note,
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 on6 note.
What cannot be preserv'd 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.
Bra.
So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile;
We lose it not, so long as we can smile.
-- 268 --
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
But the free comfort which from thence he hears7 note:
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 bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear8 note
.
-- 269 --
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of
state* note
-- 270 --
Duke.
The Turk with a most mighty preparation
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,
-- 271 --
yet opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws
a more safer voice on you: you must therefore be
content to slubber the gloss of your new fortunes9 note
with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
Oth.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My thrice-driven bed of down1 note: I do agnize2 note
A natural and prompt alacrity,
I find in hardness; and do undertake
These present wars3 note against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
I crave fit disposition for my wife;
Due reference of place, and exhibition4 note
;
-- 272 --
With such accommodation, and besort,
As levels with her breeding.
Duke.
If you please,
Be't at her father's.
Bra.
I'll not have it so.
Oth.
Nor I.
Des.
Nor I; I would not there reside,
To put my father in impatient thoughts,
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke,
To my unfolding lend a gracious ear5 note
:
And let me find a charter in your voice6 note,
To assist my simpleness7 note
.
Duke.
What would you, Desdemona?
Des.
That I did love the Moor to live with him,
My downright violence and storm of fortunes8 note
-- 273 --
May trumpet to the world; my heart's subdued9 note
Even to the very quality of my lord1 note
:
-- 274 --
I saw Othello's visage in his mind2 note;
And to his honours, and his valiant parts,
-- 275 --
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate.
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind,
A moth of peace, and he go to the war,
The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me,
And I a heavy interim shall support
By his dear absence: Let me go with him.
Oth.
Your voices, lords3 note:—'beseech you, let her will
Have a free way.
Vouch with me, heaven4 note
; I therefore beg it not,
To please the palate of my appetite;
Nor to comply with heat, the young affects,
In my disjunct and proper satisfaction5 note
;
-- 276 --
But to be free and bounteous to her mind:
And heaven defend6 note
your good souls, that you think
-- 277 --
I will your serious and great business scant,
For she is with me: No, when light-wing'd toys
-- 278 --
Of feather'd Cupid seel with wanton dulness
My speculative and active instruments7 note
,
-- 279 --
That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
-- 280 --
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation8 note!
-- 281 --
Duke.
Be it as you shall privately determine,
Either for her stay, or going: the affair cries—haste,
And speed must answer it; you must hence to-night.
Des.
To-night, my lord?
Duke.
This night.
Oth.
With all my heart.
Duke.
At nine i'the morning here we'll meet again.
Othello, leave some officer behind,
And he shall our commission bring to you;
With such things else of quality and respect,
As doth import you.
Oth.
Please your grace, my ancient;
A man he is of honesty, and trust:
To his conveyance I assign my wife,
With what else needful your good grace shall think
To be sent after me.
Duke.
Let it be so.—
Good night to every one.—And, noble signior,
[To Brabantio.
If virtue no delighted beauty lack9 note
,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
-- 282 --
1 Sen.
Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well.
Bra.
Look to her, Moor; have a quick eye to see1 note
;
She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.
[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, &c.
Oth.
My life upon her faith.—Honest Iago,
My Desdemona must I leave to thee;
I pr'ythee, let thy wife attend on her;
And bring them after2 note in the best advantage3 note.—
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matters and direction,
To spend with thee: we must obey the time.
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona.
Rod.
Iago.
Iago.
What say'st thou, noble heart?
Rod.
What will I do, thinkest thou?
Iago.
Why, go to bed, and sleep.
Rod.
I will incontinently drown myself.
Iago.
Well, if thou dost, I shall never love thee
after it. Why, thou silly gentleman!
Rod.
It is silliness to live, when to live is a torment;
-- 283 --
and then have we a prescription to die, when
death is our physician.
Iago.
O villainous! I have looked upon the
world for four times seven years4 note
! and since I could
distinguish between a benefit and an injury, I never
found a man that knew how to love himself. Ere
I would say, I would drown myself for the love of a
Guinea-hen5 note
, I would change my humanity with a
baboon.
Rod.
What should I do? I confess, it is my shame
to be so fond; but it is not in virtue to amend it.
Iago.
Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that we
are thus, or thus. Our bodies are our gardens; to
the which, our wills are gardeners: so that if we
-- 284 --
will plant nettles, or sow lettuce; set hyssop, and
weed up thyme; supply it with one gender of herbs,
or distract it with many; either to have it steril
with idleness6 note
, or manured with industry; why, the
power and corrigible authority of this lies in our
wills. If the balance7 note of our lives had not one
scale of reason to poise another of sensuality, the
blood and baseness of our natures would conduct
us to most preposterous conclusions: But we have
reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings,
our unbitted lusts8 note
; whereof I take this, that you
call—love, to be a sect, or scion9 note.
Rod.
It cannot be.
Iago.
It is merely a lust of the blood, and a permission
of the will. Come, be a man: Drown thyself?
drown cats, and blind puppies. I have professed
me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy
deserving with cables of perdurable toughness1 note
; I
-- 285 --
could never better stead thee than now. Put money
in thy purse; follow these wars; defeat thy favour
with an usurped beard2 note
; I say, put money in thy
purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona should long
continue her love to the Moor,—put money in thy
purse;—nor he his to her: it was a violent commencement,
and thou shalt see an answerable sequestration3 note
;
—put but money in thy purse.—These
-- 286 --
Moors are changeable in their wills;—fill thy purse
with money: the food that to him now is as luscious
as locusts, shall be to him shortly as bitter as coloquintida4 note
.
She must change for youth: when she
-- 287 --
is sated with his body, she will find the error of her
choice.—She must have change, she must: therefore
put money in thy purse.—If thou wilt needs
damn thyself, do it a more delicate way than drowning.
Make all the money thou canst: If sanctimony
and a frail vow, betwixt an erring barbarian5 note
and a supersubtle Venetian, be not too hard for my
wits, and all the tribe of hell, thou shalt enjoy her;
therefore make money. A pox of drowning thyself!
it is clean out of the way: seek thou rather
to be hanged in compassing thy joy, than to be
drowned and go without her.
Rod.
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend
on the issue6 note?
-- 288 --
Iago.
Thou art sure of me;—Go, make money:
—I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again
and again, I hate the Moor: My cause is hearted7 note;
thine hath no less reason: Let us be conjunctive8 note
in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold
him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, and me a sport.
There are many events in the womb of time, which
will be delivered. Traverse9 note
; go; provide thy
money. We will have more of this to-morrow.
Adieu.
Rod.
Where shall we meet i'the morning?
Iago.
At my lodging.
Rod.
I'll be with thee betimes.
Iago.
Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo1 note
?
Rod.
What say you?
Iago.
No more of drowning, do you hear.
Rod.
I am changed. I'll sell all my land.
-- 289 --
Iago.
Go to; farewell: put money enough in
your purse.
[Exit Roderigo.
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I would time expend with such a snipe2 note,
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor;
And it is thought abroad, that 'twixt my sheets
He has done my office: I know not if't be true;
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do, as if for surety3 note. He holds me well4 note
;
The better shall my purpose work on him.
Cassio's a proper man: Let me see now;
To get his place, and to plume up my will5 note;
A double knavery,—How? how?—Let me see:—
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear,
That he is too familiar with his wife:—
He hath a person, and a smooth dispose,
To be suspected; fram'd to make women false.
The Moor is of a free and open nature6 note
,
That thinks men honest, that but seems to be so;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,
As asses are.
-- 290 --
I have't;—it is engender'd:—Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
[Exit.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
