lieutenant.

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my
The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
What is the news?

Cas.

The duke does greet you, general ;

And he requires your haste, post-haste appearance,

Even on the instant.

Oth.

What is the matter, think you?

Cas. Something from Cyprus, as I may divine;
It is a business of some heat: the gallies
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
This very night at one another's heels;
And many of the consuls, rais'd, 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 quests,
To search you out.

Oth.

'Tis well I am found by you.

I will but spend a word here in the house,

And

go with

Cas.

you.

[Exit.

Ancient, what makes he here? Iago. He hath to-night boarded a land carack'; If it prove lawful prize, he 's made for ever. Cas. I do not understand.

Iago.

Cas.

He's married,

To who?

Re-enter OTHELLO..

Iago. Marry, to Come, captain, will you go?

Oth.

Have with you.

Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you.

Enter BRABANTIO, RODERIGO, and Officers of night, with Torches and Weapons.

Jago. It is Brabantio:- general, be advis'd; He comes to bad intent.

A rich vessel.

Oth.

Hola! stand there!

Rod. Signior, it is the Moor.

Bra.

Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides.

Jago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.

Good signior, you shall more command with years, Than with your weapons.

Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daughter?

Wretch that thou art, thou hast enchanted her :
For I'll refer me to all things of sense,
If she in chains of magick were not bound,
Whether a maid-so tender, fair, and 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.
Judge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense,
That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms;
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs, or minerals,
'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

To answer this your charge?

Bra.

that I you

go.

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.

1

'Tis true, most worthy signior,

The duke's in council; and your noble self,
I am sure, is sent for.

Bra.

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.

[Exit.

SCENE III.

A Council Chamber.

The Duke, and Senators, sitting at a Table; Officers attending.

Duke. There is no composition' in these news, 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.

8

2 Sen. 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. 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.

Off. A messenger from the gallies.

Duke.

Now? the business?

Sailor. The Turkish preparation makes for
Rhodes;

So was I bid report here to the state,
By signior Angelo.

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

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. 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

? Easy dispute. 1 State of defence. 2. Combat.

Their backward course, bearing with frank appear

ance

Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
Your trusty and most valiant servitor,
With his free duty recommends you
And prays you to believe him.

thus,

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.

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'erbearing 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,