TUSH, never tell me, I take it much unkindly,
That thou, Iago, who hast had my purse,
As if the strings were thine,-should'st know of this.
lago. 'Sblood, but you will not hear me :-

If ever I did dream of such a matter,
Abhor me.

Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him in thy hate.

Iago. Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,

In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Oft capp'dı to him;-and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance,2
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion, nonsuits

My mediators; for, certes, says he,
I have already chose my officer.
And what was he?

Forsooth, a great arithmetician,
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine,
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife;
That never set a squadron in the field,

Nor the division of a battle knows

More than a spinster; unless the bookish theoric,
Wherein the toged consuls can propose

As masterly as he: mere prattle, without practice,
Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the election:
And I, of whom his eyes had seen the proof,
At Rhodes, at Cyprus; and on other grounds
Christian and heathen, -must be be-lee'd and calm'd
By debitor and creditor, this counter-caster :7
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be,

And I, (God bless the mark!) his Moorship's an

cient.

Rod. By heaven I rather would have been his hangman.

Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse of service; Preferment goes by letter, and affection, Not by the old gradation, where each second Stood heir to the first. Now, sir, be judge yourself, Whether I in any just term am affin'ds To love the Moor. Rod.

I would not follow him then.

lago. O, sir, content you;
I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but provender; and, when he's old,
cashier'd;

Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are,
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves;
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords,
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd

their coats,

Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul;

And such a one do I profess myself.
For, sir,

It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago:
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end:

For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart

In compliment extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

Bra. Call up my brother. O, that you had had her!

Some one way, some another.-Do you know Where we may apprehend her and the Moor? Rod. I think, I can discover him; if you please To get good guard, and go along with me.

Bra. Pray you, lead on. At every house I'll call; I may command at most;-Get weapons, ho! And raise some special officers of night.On, good Roderigo; -I'll deserve your pains.

[Exeunt.

Iago.

Nay, but he prated,

And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms Against your honour,

That, with the little godliness I have,

I did full hard forbear him. But, I pray, sir,
Are you fast married? for, be sure of this,-
That the magnificot is much beloved;
And hath, in his effect, a voice potential

As double as the duke's: he will divorce you;
Or put upon you what restraint and grievance
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on,)
Will give him cable.

Oth.

Let him do his spite: My services, which I have done the signiory, Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know (Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, I shall promulgate,) I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege ; and my demerits3 May speak, unbonneted, 4 to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach'd: For know, Iago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhouseds free condition Put into circumscription and confine

He comes to bad intent. Oth.

Hola! stand there!

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 and happy; happy;
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
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.9
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,

yonder?

What is the matter, think you?

Cas. 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, rais'd, and met,

Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals, That waken motion:-I'll have it 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.

Oth.

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?

Bra.

To prison: till fit time

Of law, and course of direct session,
Call thee to answer.
Oth.

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?

Off.

'Tis true, most worthy signior,

Bra.

Moor.

Enter Brabantio, Othello, Iago, Roderigo, and Officers.

The Duke, and Senators, sitting at a table; Of

ficers attending.

And mine, two hundred:

But though they jump not on a just account (As in these cases, where the aim3 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.

you

We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night. [To Brabantio. 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

Bra.

Dead?

Ay, to me;

Off. A messenger from the galleys.

Duke.

Now? the business?

By signior Angelo.

Duke. How say you by this change? 1 Sen.

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,5
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 protitless.

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 thought :-How many, as you guess?

Mess. Of thirty sail: and now do they re-stem pearance

Their backward course, bearing with frank ap

Their purposes towards 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:

Bra.

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
[To Othello.

this?

Bra. Nothing but, this is so. Oth. 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 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 patience,

I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what

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.

'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;

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?

Send for the lady to the Sagittary,3

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 lago 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 spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field;

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i'the imminent deadly

breach;

It was my hint to speak, such was the process; And of the cannibals that each other eat,

The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads

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

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.

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,
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

sentence,

Which, as a grise, or step, may help these lovers Into your favour.

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:7 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

When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserv'd, when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.

thief;

The robb'd, that smiles, steals something from the

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
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 bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear.9

(7) Intention and attention were once synonymous. (8) Grise from degrees.

(9) i. e. That the wounds of sorrow were ever cured by the words of consolation.

4 B