SCENE changes to the Senate Houfe. Duke and Senators, fet at a table with lights, and Duke. That gives them credit. Here is no compofition in these news, I Sen. Indeed, they're disproportion'd; But though they jump not on a juft account, Duke. Nay, it is poffible enough to judgment; But the main article I do approve In fearful fenfe. Sailors within.] What hoa! what hoa! what hoa! Enter Sailors. Ofi. A meffenger from the gallies. Sail. The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes, I Sen. This cannot be, By no affay of reafon. 'Tis a pageant, That Rhodes is drefs'd in. If we make thought of this, To leave that lateft, which concerns him firft; Enter a Meffenger. Mef. The Ottomites, (reverend and gracious,) Steering with due courfe toward the Ifle of Rhodes, Have there injoin'd them with an after-fleet 1 Sen. Ay, fo I thought; how many, as you guess? With his free duty, recommends you thus, Duke. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus: Marcus Luccicos, Is he not here in town? 1 Sen. He's now in Florence. Duke. Write from us, to him, poft, poft-hafte, difpatch. Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant Moor. To them, enter Brabantio, Othello, Caffio, Iago, Duke. Valiant Othello, we muft ftraight employ you, Against the general enemy Ottoman. I did not fee you; welcome, gentle fignior: [To Braban. We lack'd your counfel, and your help to-night. Bra. So did I yours; good your grace, pardon me; Duke. Why? what's the matter ? Sen. Sen. Dead Bra. To me; She is abus'd, ftoll'n from me, and corrupted: (Being not deficient, blind, or lame of fenfe;) : Duke. Who-e'er he be, that in this foul proceeding Hath thus beguil'd your daughter of herself, And you of her, the bloody book of law You fhall yourself read in the bitter letter, After your own sense: yea, though our proper Son Stood in your action. Bra. Humbly I thank your grace. Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems, All. We're very forry for't. Duke. What in your own part can you fay to this Bra. Nothing, but this is fo. [To Othel. 1 Oth. Moft potent, grave, and reverend figniors, Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I in my fpeech, And little of this great world can I fpeak, Of my whole courfe of love; what drugs, what charms, (For fuch proceeding I am charg'd withal,) I won his daughter with. L3 Bres Bra. A maiden, never bold; Of fpirit fo fill and quiet, that her motion Why this fhould be. I therefore vouch again, Duke. To vouch this, is no proof, Without more certain and more overt teft, Did you by indirect and forced courfes Oth. I befeech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary, 48) It is a Judgment maim'd and most imperfect That will confefs, Perfection fo could err Against all Rules of Nature.] Perfection erring, feems a Contradiction in Terminis, as the Schoolmen call it. Befides, Brabantic does not blazon his Daughter out for a Thing of abfolute Perfection; he only fays, fhe was indued with fuch an extreme innate Modefty, that for her to fall in Love fo prepofterously, no found Judgment could allow, but it must be by magical Practice upon her. I have ventur'd to imagine that our Author wrote; That will confefs, Affection fo could err, &c. This is entirely confonant to what Brabantio would fay of her; and one of the Senators, immediately after, in his Examination of the Moor, thus addreffes himself to him; -But, Othello, peak; Did you by indirect and forced Courses Subdue and poison this young Maid's Affections, &c.. And And let her speak of me before her father; you The Truft, the Office, I do hold of you, Even fall upon my life. your Sentence Duke. Fetch Desdemona hither. [Exeunt two or three, [Exit Lago. Oth. Ancient, condu& them, you best know the place. And 'till the come, as truly as to heav'n Duke. Say it, Othello. Oth. Her father lov'd me, oft invited me 3-1- From year to year; the battles, fieges, fortunes, I ran it through, e'en from my boyish days, Of hair-breadth 'fcapes in th' imminent deadly breach; And fold to flavery; of my redemption thence, And portance in my travel's history: Wherein of antres vaft, and defares idle, (9) Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whofe heads touch heav'n, (9) Wherein of Antres vaft and Defarts idle, & Thus it is in all the old Editions: But Mr. Pope has thought fit to change the Epithet. Defarts idle; in the former Editions; (lays he) doubtless, a Corruption from wilde But he muft pardon me, If I do not concur in thinking this fo doubtless. I don't know whether Mr. Pope has obferv'd it, but I know that Shakespeare, especially in Defcriptions, is fond of ufing the more uncommon Word, in a. poetick Latitude. And idle, in feveral other Paffages, he employs in thefe Acceptations, wild, ufelifs, uncultivated, &c. |