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

b

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 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 't is not gross in sense
That thou hast practis'd on her with foul charms;
Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
That waken motion: - I'll have 't disputed
on; (2)

"Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore apprehend and do attach theed
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.

Отн.

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.

Отн.
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?

1 OFF. "T is 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 't were their own; For if such actions may have passage free, Bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. [Exeunt.

(*) First folio, Whether.

(+) First folio omits, I. If she in chains of magic were not bound,-] A line not found in the quarto 1622.

bcurled darlings-] "Curled" was an epithet characteristic of gentility. Thus D'Avenant, in "The Just Italian," Act III. Sc. 1,

"the curl'd and silken Nobles of the Town." The folio reads, "dearlings."

That waken motion:-) So Hanmer; the original having, "That weakens motion," &c. The upholders of the old reading contend that Brabantio's accusation is that the Moor, by magical devices and the administering of drugs or minerals, had weakened those natural impulses of youth and maidhood in his daughter, which, uncontrolled, would have inclined to those of her own clime, complexion, and degree; but this is expressly contradicted by what he has himself just said,

SCENE III.-The same. A Council Chamber.

The DUKE, and Senators, sitting; Officers attending.

DUKE. There is no composition in these news That gives them credit.

1 SEN. Indeed, they are disproportioned; My letters say a hundred and seven galleys. DUKE. And mine, a hundred forty.

2 SEN. And mine, two hundred : But though they jump not on a just account,As in these cases, where the aim reports, 'T is 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. [Without.] What ho! what ho!

what ho!

a maid so tender, fair, and happy,
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation."

We therefore readily accept the easy emendation Hanmer offers. Brabantio's grievance, it is plain, was not that Othello had, by charms and medicines, abated the motions of Desdemona's sense, but that he had aroused and stimulated them.

dand do attach thee-] The passage beginning,—"Judge me the world," to the above words inclusive, is not in the quarto 1622.

ewhere the aim reports,-] To aim is to conjecture or surmise. f I do not so secure me in the error.-] I do not so over-confidently build on the discrepancy, but that, &c.

g So may he with more facile question bear it,-] The remainder of the speech. after this line, is lound only in the foi.o 1623 and the quarto 1630.

You shall yourself read in the bitter letter,
After your own sense; yea, though our proper son
Stood 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.

DUKE and SEN. We are very sorry for 't. DUKE. What, in your own part, can you say to this? [TO OTHELLO.

BRA. Nothing, but this is so.

Отн. 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;

a Their dearest action-] See note (b), p. 398.

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 us'd
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broils 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 charg'd withal,-
I won his daughter.

BRA.

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 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.

(*) First folio, main'd.

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;

Of being taken by the insolent foe

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence,
And portance in my travel's § history:
Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle,
Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads T
touch heaven,

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, 't was strange, 't was passing
strange;

'T was pitiful, 't was 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.

BRA.

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?

DES.

My noble father,

I do perceive here a divided duty:
Το 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.

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:

(*) First folio, instinctively.

one preceding.

(†) First folio, kisses.

b The trust, the office, I do hold of you,-] This line is not found in the earlier quarto.

Do grow beneath-] The folio reads, "Grew beneath," &c.

d This to hear-] In the folio, "These things to hear," &c.

I here do give thee that with all my heart,
Which, but thou hast already, with all my hearta
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,

a Which, but thou hast already, with all my heart-] A line wanting in the earlier quarto.

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 preserv'd, when Fortune takes.
Patience her injury a mockery makes.

(*) First folio omits the words, Into your favour.

b Let me speak like yourself;] He perhaps means, sententiously

τι