SCENE III.
A Council-chamber.
Duke, and Senators, sitting.
Duke.
2 noteThere is no composition in these news,
That gives them credit.
-- 451 --
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,
(3 note
As in these cases where they 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 judgment;
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!
Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.
Offi.
A messenger from the gallies.
Duke.
Now? the business?
Sail.
The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes;
So was I bid report here to the state,
By signior Angelo4 note.
Duke.
How say you by this change?
-- 452 --
1 Sen.
This cannot be,
5 noteBy 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 6 notefacile question bear it,
7 noteFor that it stands not in such 8 notewarlike 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 unskilful,
To leave that latest, which concerns him first;
Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gain,
To wake, and wage9 note
, a danger profitless.
Duke.
Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes.
Offi.
Here is more news.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes.
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 thought1 note:—How many, as you guess?
-- 453 --
Mes.
Of thirty sail: and now they do re-stem2 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,
3 note
And prays you to believe him.
Duke.
'Tis certain then for Cyprus.—
Marcus Lucchesé, is not he in town?
1 Sen.
He's now in Florence.
Duke.
Write from us; wish him, post, post-haste: dispatch. 9Q1224
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 Brab.
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 4 notegeneral care
Take hold5 note on me; for my particular grief
-- 454 --
Is of so flood-gate and o'er-bearing nature,
That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,
And yet 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
6 note
By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks:
For nature so preposterously to err,
Being not7 note deficient, blind, or lame of sense,
Sans witchcraft could not—
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, though our proper son
-- 455 --
8 noteStood 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.
All.
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;
9 noteThe very head and front of my offending 9Q1225
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
1 note
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
2 noteTheir 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,
-- 456 --
I will a round unvarnish'd3 note tale deliver
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration, and what mighty magic,
(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
4 noteBlush'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 vouch5 note this, is no proof;
Without more certain and more 6 noteovert test,
Than these 7 note
thin habits, and poor likelihoods
Of modern seeming, do prefer against him.
-- 457 --
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 Sagittary8 note,
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 you9 note,
Not only take away, but let your sentence
Even fall upon my life.
Duke.
Fetch Desdemona hither.
[Exeunt Two or Three.
Oth.
Ancient, conduct them; you best know the place.—
[Exit Iago.
And, 'till she come, as truly1 note as to heaven
I do confess2 note the vices of my blood,
So justly to your grave ears I'll present
How did I 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;
-- 458 --
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
3 note
And portance in my travel's history:
4 note
Wherein of antres vast, and desarts idle,
-- 459 --
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven,
5 note
It was my hint to speak, such was the process;
-- 460 --
And of the Cannibals that each other eat,
The Anthropophagi, and 6 note
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 dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear7 note
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,
8 note
But not intentively: I did consent;
-- 461 --
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 9 notea 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;
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 past;
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,
-- 462 --
Than their bare hands.
Bra.
I pray you, hear her speak;
If she confess, that she was half the wooer,
Destruction on my head1 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 duty2 note
,
I am hitherto your daughter: But here's my husband;
And so much duty as my mother shew'd
To you, preferring you before her father,
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,
Which3 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.
Duke.
4 note
Let me speak like yourself; and lay a sentence,
-- 463 --
Which, 5 note
as a grise, or step, may help these lovers
6 noteInto your favour.
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 on7 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.
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears
8 noteBut the free comfort which from thence he hears:
-- 464 --
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:
9 note
But words are words; I never yet did hear,
That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.
-- 465 --
I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.
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 allow'd sufficiency, yet
opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects, throws a more
safe voice on you: you must therefore be content to
slubber1 note
the gloss of your new fortunes, with this
more stubborn and boisterous expedition.
Oth.
The tyrant custom, most grave senators,
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war
My 2 notethrice-driven bed of down: I do agnize3 note
A natural and prompt alacrity,
I find in hardness; and do undertake
This present was against the Ottomites.
Most humbly therefore bending to your state,
4 note
I crave fit disposition for my wife;
-- 466 --
Due reference of place, and exhibition;
With such accommodation, and besort,
As levels with her breeding.
Duke.
If you please,
Be't at her father's.
Bra.
I will 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 6 notea charter in your voice,
To assist my simpleness7 note
.
Duke.
What would you, Desdemona?
Des.
That I did love the Moor to live with him,
8 note
My down-right violence and storm of fortunes
May trumpet to the world; my heart's subdu'd
-- 467 --
Even to the very quality of my lord9 note
:
1 noteI saw Othello's visage in his mind;
And to his honours, and his valiant parts,
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, lords2 note:—I do beseech you, let
Her will have a free way.
Vouch with me heaven, I therefore beg it not3 note,
To please the palate of my appetite;
4 note
Nor to comply with heat, (the young affects,
In me defunct) and proper satisfaction;
-- 468 --
But to be free and bounteous to her mind:9Q1230
-- 469 --
And heaven defend5 note
your good souls, that you think
I will your serious and great business scant,
-- 470 --
For she is with me; No, 6 note
when light-wing'd toys
Of feather'd Cupid, seel with wanton dulness
My speculative and active instruments,
That my disports corrupt and taint my business,
Let housewives make a skillet of my helm,
And all indign and base adversities
Make head against my estimation7 note!
-- 471 --
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;
And 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 Brab.
8 note
If virtue no delighted beauty lack,
Your son-in-law is far more fair than black.
-- 472 --
Sen.
Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona well.
Bra.
Look to her, Moor; 9 note
have a quick eye to see;
She has deceiv'd her father, and may thee.
[Exeunt Duke, and Senators.
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 after in the 1 notebest advantage.—
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour
Of love, of worldly matter 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, think'st 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:
and then have we a prescription to die, when death is
our physician.
Iago.
O villainous! I have look'd upon the world
for four times seven years: 9Q1231 and since I could distinguish
betwixt a benefit and an injury, I never found
man that knew how to love himself. Ere I would
say, I would drown myself for the love of 2 note
a Guinea
hen, I would change my humanity with a baboon.
-- 473 --
Rod.
What should I do? I confess, it is my shame
to be so fond; but it is not in my 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 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 have it steril with idleness,
or manur'd with industry; why, the power
and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills. If
the balance3 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
lusts; whereof I take this, that you call—
love, to be a sect, or scyon4 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 profess'd
me thy friend, and I confess me knit to thy
deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I
could never better stead thee than now. Put money
in thy purse: follow thou these wars; 5 note
defeat thy
favour with an usurped beard: I say, put money in
-- 474 --
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: 6 note
it was a violent
commencement in her, and thou shalt see an answerable
sequestration;—put but money in thy
purse.—These Moors are changeable in their wills;—
fill thy purse with money: the food that to him
now is 7 note
as luscious as locusts, shall be to him
shortly as bitter as coloquintida. She must change
-- 475 --
for youth: when she 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, 8 note
betwixt an
erring Barbarian and a super-subtle 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 hang'd in compassing thy
joy, than to be drown'd and go without her.
Rod.
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I depend
on the issue9 note?
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 hearted; thine
hath no less reason: Let us be conjunctive1 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. Traverse; 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.
-- 476 --
Rod.
I'll be with thee betimes.
Iago.
Go to; farewel. Do you hear, Roderigo?
Rod.
What say you2 note?
Iago.
No more of drowning, do you hear.
Rod.
I am chang'd3 note. I'll go sell all my land.
Iago.
Go to; farewel: put money enough in your purse4 note.
[Exit Roderigo.
Thus do I ever make my fool my purse:
For I mine own gain'd knowledge should profane,
If I should time expend with such a snipe,
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 surety. He holds me well;
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 seem to be so;
And will as tenderly be led by the nose,
As asses are.
I have't;—it is engender'd:—Hell and night
Must bring this monstrous birth to the world's light.
[Exit.
-- 477 --
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
