Venice. Another street.
(Othello; Iago; Attendants; Cassio; Officers; Brabantio; Roderigo)
Iago asks Othello whether he is properly married, warning that he is at risk from Brabantio and needs everything to be as legal as possible. Othello points out that he has done Venice enough service to outweigh Brabantio’s weighty position. He insists he will not hide from Brabantio’s men, but the group who arrives looking for him turns out to be headed by Cassio, who has been sent to fetch Othello to a council of war. Brabantio arrives with his men, and both parties draw swords; Iago makes sure to take on Roderigo so that no-one will guess at their friendship. Othello refuses to fight, and points out that he has just been summoned to the Duke. Hearing that the Council is in session, Brabantio decides to make his case directly to the Senate. (116 lines)
Enter Othello, Iago, Attendants with torches.
Though in the trade of war I have slain men,
Yet do I hold it very stuff o’ th’ conscience
To do no contriv’d murder. I lack iniquity
Sometime to do me service. Nine or ten times
I had thought t’ have yerk’d him here under the ribs.
’Tis better as it is.
Nay, but he prated,
And spoke such scurvy and provoking terms
Against your honor,
That with the little godliness I have
I did full hard forbear him. But I pray you, sir,
Are you fast married? Be assur’d of this,
That the magnifico is much belov’d,
And hath in his effect a voice potential
As double as the Duke’s. He will divorce you,
Or put upon you what restraint or grievance
The law (with all his might to enforce it on)
Will give him cable.
Let him do his spite;
My services which I have done the signiory
Shall out—tongue his complaints. ’Tis yet to know—
Which, when I know that boasting is an honor,
I shall provulgate—I fetch my life and being
From men of royal siege, and my demerits
May speak, unbonneted, to as proud a fortune
As this that I have reach’d; for know, Iago,
But that I love the gentle Desdemona,
I would not my unhoused free condition
Put into circumscription and confine
For the sea’s worth. But look, what lights come yond?
Enter Cassio with Officers and torches.
Those are the raised father and his friends.
You were best go in.
Not I; I must be found.
My parts, my title, and my perfect soul
Shall manifest me rightly. Is it they?
By Janus, I think no.
The servants of the Duke? And my lieutenant?
The goodness of the night upon you, friends!
What is the news?
The Duke does greet you, general,
And he requires your haste-post-haste appearance,
Even on the instant.
What is the matter, think you?
Something from Cyprus, as I may divine;
It is a business of some heat. The galleys
Have sent a dozen sequent messengers
This very night at one another’s heels;
And many of the consuls, rais’d and met,
Are at the Duke’s already. You have been hotly call’d for;
When, being not at your lodging to be found,
The Senate hath sent about three several quests
To search you out.
’Tis well I am found by you.
I will but spend a word here in the house,
And go with you.
Ancient, what makes he here?
Faith, he tonight hath boarded a land carrack.
If it prove lawful prize, he’s made forever.
I do not understand.
Marry, to—Come, captain, will you go?
Have with you.
Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, with Officers with torches and weapons.
It is Brabantio. General, be advis’d,
He comes to bad intent.
Holla, stand there!
Signior, it is the Moor.
Down with him, thief!
They draw on both sides.
You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you.
Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
Good signior, you shall more command with years
Than with your weapons.
O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow’d my daughter?
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, 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 practic’d on her with foul charms,
Abus’d her delicate youth with drugs or minerals
That weakens motion. I’ll have’t disputed on,
’Tis probable, and palpable to thinking.
I therefore 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
Subdue him at his peril.
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. Whither will you that I go
To answer this your charge?
To prison, till fit time
Of law and course of direct session
Call thee to answer.
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?
’Tis true, most worthy signior;
The Duke’s in council, and your noble self
I am sure is sent for.
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-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be.