Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Othello (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Donald Bailey
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-466-0

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Donald Bailey
    Peer Reviewed

    Othello (Folio 1, 1623)

    the Moore of Venice. 313
    Officer. A Messenger from the Gallies.
    Duke. Now? What's the businesse?
    Sailor. The Turkish Preparation makes for Rhodes,
    So was I bid report here to the State,
    345By Signior Angelo.
    Duke. How say you by this change?
    1. Sen. This cannot be
    By no assay of reason. 'Tis a Pageant
    To keepe vs in false gaze, when we consider
    350Th'importancie of Cyprus to the Turke;
    And let our selues againe but vnderstand,
    That as it more concernes the Turke then Rhodes,
    So may he with more facile question beare it,
    For that it stands not in such Warrelike brace,
    355But altogether lackes th'abilities
    That Rhodes is dress'd in. If we make thought of this,
    We must not thinke the Turke is so vnskillfull,
    To leaue that latest, which concernes him first,
    Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gaine
    360To wake, and wage a danger profitlesse.
    Duke. Nay, in all confidence he's not for Rhodes.
    Officer. Here is more Newes.

    Enter a Messenger.
    Messen. The Ottamites. Reueren'd, and Gracious,
    365Steering with due course toward the Ile of Rhodes,
    Haue there inioynted them with an after Fleete.
    1. Sen. I, so I thought: how many, as you guesse?
    Mess. Of thirtie Saile: and now they do re-stem
    Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance
    370Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,
    Your trustie and most Valiant Seruitour,
    With his free dutie, recommends you thus,
    And prayes you to beleeue him.
    Duke. 'Tis certaine then for Cyprus:
    375Marcus Luccicos is not he in Towne?
    1. Sen. He's now in Florence.
    Duke. Write from vs,
    To him, Post, Post-haste, dispatch.
    1. Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the Valiant Moore.

    380Enter Brabantio, Othello, Cassio, Iago, Rodorigo,
    and Officers.

    Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you
    Against the generall Enemy Ottoman.
    I did not see you: welcome gentle Signior,
    385We lack't your Counsaile, and your helpe to night.
    Bra. So did I yours: Good your Grace pardon me.
    Neither my place, hor ought I heard of businesse
    Hath rais'd me from my bed; nor doth the generall care
    Take hold on me. For my perticular griefe
    390Is of so flood-gate, and ore-bearing Nature,
    That it engluts, snd swallowes other sorrowes,
    And it is still it selfe.
    Duke. Why? What's the matter?
    Bra. My Daughter: oh my Daughter!
    395Sen. Dead?
    Bra. I, to me.
    She is abus'd, stolne from me, and corrupted
    By Spels, and Medicines, bought of Mountebanks;
    For Nature, so prepostrously to erre,
    400(Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,)
    Sans witch-craft could not.
    Duke. Who ere he be, that in this foule proceeding
    Hath thus beguil'd your Daughter of her selfe,

    And you of her; the bloodie Booke of Law,
    405You shall your selfe read, in the bitter letter,
    After your owne sense: yea, though our proper Son
    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.
    All. We are verie sorry for't.
    Duke. What in yonr owne part, can you say to this?
    Bra. Nothing, but this is so.
    415Othe. Most Potent, Graue, and Reueren'd Signiors,
    My very Noble, and approu'd good Masters;
    That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter,
    It is most true: true I haue married her;
    The verie head, and front of my offending,
    420Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I, in my speech,
    And little bless'd with the soft phrase of Peace;
    For since these Armes of mine, had seuen yeares pith,
    Till now, some nine Moones wasted, they haue vs'd
    Their deerest action, in the Tented Field:
    425And little of this great world can I speake,
    More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and Battaile,
    And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
    In speaking for my selfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience)
    I will a round vn-varnish'd u Tale deliuer,
    430Of my whole course of Loue.
    What Drugges, what Charmes,
    What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke,
    (For such proceeding I am charg'd withall)
    I won his Daughter.
    435Bra. A Maiden, neuer bold:
    Of Spirit so still, and quiet, that her Motion
    Blush'd at her selfe, and she, in spight of Nature,
    Of Yeares, of Country, Credite, euery thing
    To fall in Loue, with what she fear'd to looke on;
    440It is a iudgement main'd, and most imperfect.
    That will confesse Perfection so could erre
    Against all rules of Nature, and must be driuen
    To find out practises of cunning hell
    Why this should be. I therefore vouch againe,
    445That with some Mixtures, powrefull o're the blood,
    Or with some Dram, (coniur'd to this effect)
    He wtought vp on her.
    To vouch this, is no proofe,
    Without more wider, and more ouer Test
    450Then these thin habits, and poore likely-hoods
    Of moderne seeming, do prefer against him.
    Sen. But Othello, speake,
    Did you, by indirect, and forced courses
    Subdue, and poyson this yong Maides affections?
    455Or came it by request, and such faire question
    As soule, to soule affordeth?
    Othel. I do beseech you,
    Send for the Lady to the Sagitary.
    And let her speake of me before her Father;
    460If you do finde me foule, in her report,
    The Trust, the Office, I do hold of you,
    Not onely take away, but let your Sentence
    Euen fall vpon my life.
    Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither.
    465Othe. Aunciant, conduct them:
    You best know the place.
    And tell she come, as truely as to heauen,
    I do confesse the vices of my blood,
    So iustly to your Graue eares, Ile present