Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  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 guests

  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 to-night hath boarded a land carack:

  If it prove lawful prize, he’s made for ever.

  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 shunned

  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 practised 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 practiser

  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 Of Venice

  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 Of Venice

  And mine, a hundred and forty.

  Second Senator

  And mine, two hundred:

  But though they jump not on a just account,—

  As 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 Of Venice

  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!

  First Officer

  A messenger from the galleys.

  Enter a Sailor

  Duke Of Venice

  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 Of Venice

  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 unskilful

  To leave that latest which concerns him first,

  Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,

  To wake and wage a danger profitless.

  Duke Of Venice

  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 towards 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 restem

  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 Of Venice

  ’Tis certain, then, for Cyprus.

  Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?

  First Senator

  He’s now in Florence.

  Duke Of Venice

  Write from us to him; post-post-haste dispatch.

  First Senator

  Here co
mes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

  Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers

  Duke Of Venice

  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 Of Venice

  Why, what’s the matter?

  Brabantio

  My daughter! O, my daughter!

  Duke Of Venice

  Senator

  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 Of Venice

  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.

  Duke Of Venice

  Senator

  We are very sorry for’t.

  Duke Of Venice

  [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 bless’d 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 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, 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 practises 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 Of Venice

  To vouch this, is no proof,

  Without more wider 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 Of Venice

  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 Of Venice

  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 passed.

  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 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,

  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 Of Venice

  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 wi’ 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 Of Venice

  Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence,

  Which, as a grise or step, may help these lovers

  Into 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 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 humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs of state.

  Duke Of Venice

  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, 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 fortunes with this more stubborn and boisterous expedition.