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SCENE VI.
Enter Brabantio, Rodorigo, with officers and torches.
Jago. It is Brabantio; General be advis’d,
He comes to bad intent.

Oth. Holla! stand there.
Rod. Signior, it is the Moor.
Bra. Down with him, thief. [They draw on both sides.
Jago. You Rodorigo! come, Sir, I am for you-

Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust 'em.
Good signior, you shall more command with years,
Than with your weapons.

Bra. O thou foul thief! where hast thou stow'd my daughter?
Damo'd as 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, t’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 practisid on her with foul charms,
Abus’d her delicate youth, with drugs or minerals,
That weaken motion: I'll have't disputed on,
'Tis probable, and palpable to thinking;
I the efore apprehend and do attach thee,
For an abuser of the world, a practicer
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant;
Lay hold upon him; if he do resist
Sub due him at his peril.

Oth,
# The five following lines are not in the first edition.

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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 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 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.

Offi. True, most worthy signior,
The duke's in council, and your noble self-
I'm 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-Naves and pagans shall our statesmen be.

(Exeunt,

S CE N E VII.

The Senate house.
Duke and Senators, fet at a table with lights and attendants..'
Duke. HERE is no composition in these news,

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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,
(As in these cases where they aim reports,
'Tis oft with diff'rence,) yet 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.
Saylor within.] What hoa! what boa! what hoa!

Enter Saylor.
Offi. A messenger from the gallies.
Duke. Now! - what's the business?

Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes, So was I bid report here to the state.

Duke. How say you by this change ?

i Sen. This cannot be,
By no assay of reason. 'Tis a pageant
To keep us in false gaze; when we consider,
Th’importancy of Cyprus to the Tukk,
And let our selves again but understand,
That as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
So may he with more fertile question bear it,
# For that it stands not in such warlike brace,
But altogether lacks th' 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.

The 7 following lines are added since the first edition.

Duke. Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rbodes.
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 injoin'd them with an after fleet-

1 Sen. Ay, so I thought; how many, as you guess ?

Mes. Of thirty fail; and now they do re-stem
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. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus:
Marcus Luccicos, is he not in town?

i Sen. He's now in Florence.

Duke. Write from us, to him. Post-hafte, dispatch. i Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant Moor.

SCENE VIII.

To them, enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Jago, Rodorigo, and

Officers.
Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you,
Against the general enemy Oitoman.
I did not see you; welcome, gentle fignior,
We lackt your counsel, and your help to-night.

Bra. So did I yours; good your grace pardon me,
Neither my place, nor ought I heard of business,
Hath rais’d me from my bed; nor doth the general
Take hold on me. For my particular grief

Is

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Is of so flood-gate and o’er-bearing nature,
That it ingluts and swallows other sorrows,
And
yet

is still it self.
Duke. Why? what's the matter ?
Bra. My daughter! oh my daughter! ---
Sen. Dead.

Bra. To me,
She is abus’d, stollen from me, and corrupted
By spells and medicines, bought of mountebanks;
For nature so preposterously to err,
(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of fenfe,)
Sans witchcraft could not

Duke. Who-e'er he be, that in this foul proceeding
Hath thus beguild your daughter of her self,
And

you of her, the bloody book of law
You shall your self read in the bitter letter,
After your own sense; 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.

All. We're very sorry for’t.
Duke. What in your own part can you say to this?
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;
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, 1.1.

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