2 The Tragedy of Othello

the Moore of Venice.

3

More then a Spinster, ynleſſe the bookiſh Theorique,
Wherein the tied Conſuls can propoſe

As masterly as he is meere prattle without practice,
Is all his ſouldier-ſhippe : but he is had the election,

And I, of whom his eyes had ſene the proofe,
At Rhodes, at Cipres, and on other grounds,

Christian and Heathen, muſt be led, and calm'd,

By Debitor and Creditor, this Counter-cafter :

He in good time, muſt his Leiutenant be,

And I, God bleſſe the marke, his Worſhips Ancient.

Rod. By heauen I rather would haue bin his hangman.

Ia. But there's no remedy;

Tis the curſe of ſeruice,

Preferment goes by letter and affection,

Not by the olde gradation, where each ſecond

Stood heire to the firſt :

Now is he iudge your ſelfe,

Whether I, in any iuſt tearme am affiſn'd

to lone the Moore.

Rod. I would not follow him then.

Ia. O fir, content you,

I follow him to ſerue my turne vpon him,

We cannot be all maſters, nor all maſters

Cannot be truely followed, you ſhall marke.

Many a dutious and knee-crooking knaue,

That doting on his owne obſequious bondage,

Weares out his time much like his maſters Aſſe,

For noughe but prouender, and when hee's old caſhierd,

Whip mee ſuch honest knaues :

Others there are, who trimd in ſormes,

And viſages of duty, keepe yet their hearts,

Attending on themſelues, and throwing

But ſhewes of ſeruice on their Lords,

Doe well thrive by 'em,

And when they haue lin'd their coates,

Doe themſelues homage,

Thofe fellowes haue ſome ſqufe,

And

And ſuch a one doe I proſſe my ſelſe, --- for fir,
It is as ſure as you are Roderigo,

Were I the Moore, I would not be Iago :

In following him, I follow but my ſelſe.

Heauen is my iudge, not I,

For Iue and dury, but ſeeming ſo,

For my peculiar end.

For when my outward action does demonſtrate

The native act, and figure of my heart,

In complement externe, tis not long after,

But I will weare my heart vpon my ſleeue,

For Doues to pecke at,

I am not what I am.

Rod. What a full fortune does the thicklips owe,
If he can carry't thus ?

Ia. Call vp her father,

Rowſe him, make after him, poyſon his delight,

Proclaime him in the streete, incense her Kinsmen,

And tho he in a ſeutile climate dwell,

Plague him with flyes : tho that his ioy be ioy,

Yet throw ſuch changes of vexation out,

As it may loofe ſome colour.

Rod. Here is her fathers house, Ile call aloud.

Ia. Doe with like timerous accent, and dire yell,

As when by night and negligence, the fire

Is Spied in populous Citieſ.

Rod. What ho, Brabantio, Seignior Brabantio, ho,

Ia. Awake, what ho, Brabantio,

Theeues, theeues, theeues :

Looke to your house, you Daughter, and your bags,

Theeues, theeues.

Brabantio at a window.

Brab. What is the reaſon of this terrible ſummons ?

What is the matter there ?

Rod. Seignior, is all your family within?

Ia. Are all doore lockts ?

B 2

Brab.

The Trageay of Othello

4

Brab. Why, wherefore aske you this?

Iag. Zounds fir you are robd, for shame put on your gowne,
Your heart is burst, you haue loft halfe your foule;
Euen now, very now, an old blacke Ram
Is tupping your white Ewe; arife, arife,
Awake the snorting Citizens with the Bell,
Or else the Diuell will make a Grandfire of you, arife I say.

Brab. What, haue you loft your wits ?

Rod. Moft reuerend Seignior, doe you know my voyce?

Bra. Not I, what are you?

Rod. My name is Roderigo.

Bra. The worse welcome,

I haue charg'd thee, not to haunt about my dores,
In honest plainenesse, thou haft heard me say
My daughter is not for thee, and now in madnes,
Being full of supper, and diftempering draughts,
Vpon malicious brauery, doft thou come

To start my quiet?

Rod. Sir, fir, fir.

Bra. But thou muft needes be sure

My spirit and my place haue in them power,
To make this bitter to thee.

Rod. Patience good fir.

Bra. What, tell me thou me of robbing ? this is Venice,
My house is not a graunge.

Rod. Moft graue Brabantio,

In simple and pure foule I come to you.

Iag. Zouns Sir, you are one of those, that will not ferue God, if
the Devill bid you. Because we come to doe you feruice, you thinke
we are Ruffians, youle haue your daughter couered with a Barbary
horfe; youle haue your Nephewes ney to you; youle haue Courfers
for Coufens, and Iennits for Iermans.

Bra. What prophane wretch art thou ?

Iag. I am one fir, that come to tell you, your daughter, and the
Moore, are now making the Beaft with two backs.

Bra. Thou art a villaine.

Iag. You are a Senator.

Bra.

The Moore of Venice.

Bra. This thou shalt answer, I know thee Roderigo.

Rod. Sir, I will answer any thing: But I befeech you,
If she be in her chamber, or your house,
Let loose on me the Iustice of the state,
For this delusion.

Bra. Strike on the tinder, Ho:
Gie me a taper, call vp all my people:
This accident is not vnlike my dreame,
Beleefe of it oppreffes me already:
Light I say, light.

Iag. Farewell, for I muft leaue you,
It seemes not meete, nor wholesome to my pate,
To be produc'd, as if I stay I shall
Against the Moore, for I doe know the state,
Now euer this may gaule him with some checke,
Cannot with safety caft him, for hee's imbark'd,
With such loud reason, to the Cipres warres,
Which euen now stands in act, that for their foules,
Another of his fathome, they haue not
To leade their businesse, in which regard,
Tho I doe hate him, as I doe hells paines,
Yet for neceffity of preſent life,
I muſt ſhew out a flag, and signe of loue,
Which is indeed but ſigne, that you ſhall surely
Finde him: lead to the Sagittar, the raised ſearch,
And there will I be with him. So farewell.

Exi.

Enter Barbantio in his night gowne, and ſeruants with Torches.

Bra. It is too true an euill, gone ſhe is,
And what's to come, of my deſiſed time,
Is nought but bitternesse now Roderigo,
Where didst thou ſee her; O vnhappy girl,
With the Moore ſaſt thou? who would be a father?
How didst thou know twas ſhe? O thou deceiueſt me
Paſt thought: what ſaid ſhe to you? get more tapers,

R 3

Rauſ

The Tragedy of Othello

Raiſe all my kindred, are they married thinke you ?

Rod. Truely I thinke they are.

Bra. O heauen, how got he out? O treason of the blood;
Fathers from hence, truſt not your Daughters mindes,
By what you fee them act, is there not charmes,
By which the property of youth and manhood
May be abus'd? haue you not read Roderigo,
Of some ſuch thing.

Rod. I haue fir.

Bra. Call vp my brother : O that you had had her.
Some one way, some another; doe you know
Where we may apprehend her, and the Moore ?

Rod. I thinke I can diſcouer him, if you please
To get good guard, and goe along with me.

Bra. Pray leade me on, at euery house Ile call,
I may command at moſt, get weapons ho,
And raiſe some ſpeciall Officers of night:
On good Roderigo, Ile deferue your paynes.

Exequie.

Enter Othello, Iago, and attendants with Torches.

Ia. Tho in the trade of warre, I haue ſaine men,
Yet doe I hold it very ſtufft of Conſcience.
To doe no contriu'd murrher; I lacke iniquity
Sometimes to doe me ſeruice : nine or ten times,
I had thought to haue ierk'd him here,
Under the ribbes.

Oth. Tis better as it is.

Iag. Nay, but he prated,
And ipoke ſuch ſcuruy, and prouoking tearmes
Againſt your Honor, that with the little godlineſſe I haue,
I did full hard forbeare him : but I pray fir,
Are you ſaſt married ? For be ſure of this,
That the Magniſico is much beloved,
And hath in his effect, a voyce potentially,
A double as the Dukes, he will diuorce you,
Or put vpon you what reſtraint, and greeuance,
That law with all his mights to inforce it on,

Wecle

the Moore of Venice.

Wèele giue him cable,

Oth. Let him doe his ſpite,
My ſeruices which I haue done the Seigniorie,
Shall out tongue his complaints, tis yet to know,
That boaſting is an honour,

I ſhall provulgate, I fetch my life and being,
From men of royall height, and my demerrits,
May ſpeake vnbonnited to as proud a fortune
As this that I haue reach'd; for know Iago,
But that I loue the gentle Defdemona,
I would not, my vnhouſed free condition,
Put into circumſcription and confine
For the ſeas worth,

For the ſeas worth,
Enter Caffio with lights, Officers,
But looke what lights come yonder.
and torches.

Ia. These are the raſed Father and his friends,
You were beſt goe in:

Oth. Not I, I muſt be found,
My parts, my Title, and my perſeſt ſoule,
Shall maniſeſt me rightly: it is they.

Ia. By Ianus I thinke no.

Oth. The ſeruants of the Duke, and my Leiutenant,
The goodneſſe of the night vpon your friends,
What is the newes.

Caf. The Duke does greete you Generall,
And he requires your haſt, poſt haſt appearance,
Euen on the inſant.

Oth. What's the matter thinke you :
Caf. Something from Cipres, as I may diuine,
It is a buſineſſe of some heate, the Galleyes

Haue ſent a dozen frequent meſſengers
This very night, at one anoeths heeles :
And many of the Conſuls rais'd, and met,
Are at the Dukes already; you haue bin hotly cald for,
When being not at your lodging to be found,
The Senate ſent aboue three ſeuerall queſts
To ſarch you out.

Oth. Tis well I am found by you,

B 4

Ile

The Tragedy of Othello

8

He spend a word here in the house, and goe with you.

Caf. Auncient, what makes he here?

Ia. Faith he to night, hath boord a land Carrick:
If it proue lawfull prize, hee's made for euer.

Caf. I doe not vnderstand.

Ia. Hee's married,

Caf. To who?

Enters Brabantio, Roderigo, and others with lights
and weapons.

Ia. Marry to. --- Come Captaine, will you goe?

Oth. Ha, with who?

Caf. Here comes another troupe to seeke for you.

Ia. It is Brabantio, Generall be aduide,

He comes to bad intent.

Oth. Holla, stand there.

Rod. Seignior, it is the Moore.

Cra. Downe with him the life.

Ia. You Roderigo, Come fir, I am for you.

Oth. Keepe vp your bright fwords, for the dew will ruft em,
Good Seignior you shall more command with yeares
Then with your weapons.

Bra. O thou foule theefc, where haft thou stowed my daughter?
Dambd as thou art, thou haft enchanted her,
For ile referre me to all thing of senfe,
Whether a maide so tender, faire, and happy,
So oppofite to marriage, that she fhund
The wealthy cu:led darlings of our Nation,
Would euer haue (to incurre a general mocke )
Runne from her gardage to the footy boſome
Of ſuch a thing as thou? to ſeare, not to delight,
Such an abufer of the world, a præſifer
Of Arts inhibited, and out of warrant?
Lay hold vpon him, if he doe reſift,
Subdue him at his perill.

Oth. Hold your hands :
Both you of my inclining and the reſt,

Were

The Moore of Venice.

9

Were it my Qu. to fight, I should haue knowne it,
Without a prompter, where will you that I goe,
And anſwer this your charge?

Bra. To prifon till fit time
Of Law, and course of direct Seſſion,
Call thee to anſwer.

Oth. What if I doe obey,
How may the Duke be therewith ſatisfied,
Whofe Meſſengers are heere about my ſide,
Vpon ſome preſent buſinesſe of the State,
To beate me to him.

Officer. Tis true moſt worthy Seignior,
The Duke's in Councell, and your noble ſelfe,
I am ſure is ſent for.

Bra. How? the Duke in Councell?
In this time of the night? bring him away,
Mine's not an idle cauſe, the Duke him ſelſe,
Or any of my Brothers of the State,
Cannot but feele this wrong, as twere their owre.
For if ſuch actions, may haue paſſage free,
Bondſlaues, and Pagans, ſhal our Stateſmen be. Exeunt.

Enter Duke and Senators, sat at a Table with lights
and Attendants.

Duke. There is no Compoſition in these newes,
That giues them credit.

1 Sena. Indeede they are diſproportioned,
My letters ſay, a hundred and ſeuen Gallies.

Du. And mine a hundred and forty.

2 Sena. And mine two hundred :
But though they iumpe not on a iuft account,
As in these caſes, where they aym'd reports,
Tis oft with difference, yet doe they all confirme
A Turkifh fleete, and bearing vp to Cipreſſe.

Du. Nay, it is poffible enough to iudgement:
I doe not ſo ſecure me to the error,
But the mayne Articles I doe approue

c

In

10

The Trageay of Othello

In fearfull sense.
*Enter a Messenger.*

*One within.* What ho, what ho, what ho ?

*Sailor.* A messenger from the Galley.

*Du.* Now, the busineſſe ?

*Sailor.* The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes,

So was I bid report here, to the state.

*Du.* How say you by this change ?

*Sena.* This cannot be by no affay of reason --

Tis a Pageant,

To keepe vs in false gaze : when we consider

The importancy of Cypresse 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.

*Du.* And in all confidence, hee's not for Rhodes.

*Officer.* Here is more newes. Enter a 2. Messenger.

*Mef.* The Ottamites, reuerend and gracious,

Steering with due courte, toward the Isle of Rhodes,

Haue there inioynted with an after flinke

Of 30 ſaile, and now they doe reſterine

Their backward course, bearing with franke appearance

Their purpofes towards Cypresse: Seignior Montano,

Your truſty and moſt valiant ſeruitor,

With his free duty recommends you thus,

And prayes you to believe him.

*Du.* Tis certaine then for Cypresse,

*Marcus Luccicos* is not here in Towne.

*1 Sena.* Hec's now in Florence.

*Du.* Write from vs, with him poſt, poſt haſt dispatch:

*Enter Brabantio, Othello, Roderigo, Iago, Caffio, Defdemona, and Off. cers.*

*1 Sena.* Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moore.

*Du.* Valiant Othello, we muſt ſtraite employ you,

Against the generall enemy Ottaman ;

I did not ſee you, welcome gentle Seignior,

We lacke your counſell, and your helpe to night,

Bra.

11

The Moore of Venice.

*Bra.* So did I yours, good your Grace pardon me,

Neither my place, nor ought I heard of busineſſe

Hath rais'd me from my bed, nor doth the generall care

Take any hold of me, for my particular griefes,

Is of ſo floodgate and orebearing nature,

That it engluts and swallowes other ſorrowes,

And it is full it ſelfe.

*Du.* Why, what's the matter ?

*Bra.* My daughter, O my daughter.

*All.* Dead ?

*Bra.* I to me:

She is abus'd, ſtolne from me and corrupted,

By ſpels and medicines, bought of mountebanks,

For nature ſo prepoſterouſly to erre,

Saunce witchcraft could not.

*Du.* Who ere he be, that in this ſoule proceeding

Hath thus beguild your daughter of her ſelfe,

And you of her, the bloody booke of Law,

You ſhall your ſelfe, read in the bitter letter,

After its owne ſense, tho our proper ſonne

Stood in your action.

*Bra.* Humbly I thanke your Grace;

Here is the man, this Moore, whom now it ſeemes

Your ſpeciall mandate, for the State affaires

Hath hither brought.

*All.* We are very forry for't.

*Du.* What in your owne part can you ſay to this?

*Bra.* Nothing, but this is so.

*Oth.* Moſt porent, graue, and reuerend Seigniors,

My very noble and approoued good maifters :

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,

Hath this extent no more. Rude am I in my ſpeech,

And little bleſt with the ſet phrase of peace,

For since these armes of mine had ſeuen yeares pich,

Till now some nine Moones waſted, they haue vs'd

C 2

Their