Othello (Quarto 1, 1622)
Peer Reviewed
The Moore of Venice.
11
¶Bra. So did I yours, good your Grace pardon me,
¶Hath rais'd me from my bed, nor doth the generall care
¶Take any hold of me, for my particular griefes,
390Is of so floodgate and orebearing nature,
¶Du. Why, what's the matter?
¶Bra. My daughter, O my daughter.
395All. Dead?
¶Bra. I to me:
¶She is abus'd, stolne from me and corrupted,
¶By spels and medicines, bought of mountebancks,
¶Saunce witchcraft could not.
¶Du. Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding
¶Hath thus beguild your daughter of her selfe,
¶And you of her, the bloody booke of Law,
¶Stood in your action.
¶Bra. Humbly I thanke your Grace;
¶Here is the man, this Moore, whom now it seemes
410Your speciall mandate, for the State affaires
¶Hath hither brought.
¶My very noble and approoued good maisters:
¶That I haue tane away this old mans daughter,
¶It is most true: true, I haue married her,
¶The very head and front of my offending,
420Hath this extent no more. Rude am I in my speech,
C 2
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