Bring freely to you: I'll prevent the cries
Of murder'd infants, and of ravish'd maids,
Which, in a city sack'd, call on heaven's justice,
And stop the course of glorious victories.
And, when I know the captains and the soldiers,
That have in the late battle done best service,
And are to be rewarded, I myself,
According to their quality and merits,
Will see them largely recompens'd.-
And now expect my sentence.
Charles. Thou hast so far
Outgone my expectatiou, noble Sforza,
(For such i hold thee,) and true constancy,
Rais'd on a brave foundation, bears such palm
And privilege with it, that, where we behold it,
Though in an enemy, it does command us
To love and honour it.-By my future hopes
I'm glad for thy sake, that, in seeking favour,
Thou didst not borrow of vice her indirect,
Crooked, and abject means; and for mine own,
That (since my purposes must now be chang'd
Touching my life and fortunes) the world cannot
Tax me of levity in my settled councils;
I being neither wrought by tempting bribes,
Nor servile flattery; but forc'd unto it
By a fair war of virtue.
All former passages of hate be buried ;
For thus with open arms I meet thy love,
And as a friend embrace it; and so far
I am from robbing thee of the least honour,
That with my hands, to make it sit the faster,
I set thy crown once more upon thy head;
And do not only style thee duke of Milan,
But vow to keep thee so: yet, not to take
From others to give only to thyself,
I will not hinder your magnificence
Το my commanders, neither will I urge it;
But in that, as in all things else, I leave you
To be your own disposer.
II. Malefort's defence.
-LIVE I once more
To see these hands and arms free, these, that often,
In the most dreadful horror of a fight,
Have been as sea-marks to teach such as were
Seconds in my attempts, to steer between
The rocks of too much daring and pale fear,
To reach the port of victory! When my sword,
Advanc'd thus, to my enemies appear'd
A hairy comet, threat'ning death and ruin
To such as durst behold it. These the legs,
That, when our ships were grappl'd, carried me
With such swift motion from deck to deck,
As they that saw it, with amazement cried,
He does not run, but flies,
Now cramp'd with irons,
Hunger and cold, they hardly do support me.
But I forget myself.O my good lords,
That sit there as judges to determine · ́
The life and death of Malefort, where are now
Those shouts, those cheerful looks, those loud applauses ›
With which, when I returned loaden with spoil,
You entertain'd your admiral? All's forgotten,
And I stand here to give an account for that
Of which I am as free and innocent
As he that never saw the eye of him
For whom I stand suspected.-
-The main ground, on which
You raise the building of your accusation,
Hath reference to my son: should I now curse him,
Or wish, in th' agony of my troubled soul,
Lightning had found him in his mother's womb,
You'll say, 'tis from the purpose; and I therefore
Betake him to the devil, and so Icave him.
Did never loyal father but myself
Beget a treacherous issue? Must it follow,
Because that he is impious, I am false?
I would not boast my actions, yet 'tis lawful
To upbraid my benefits to unthankful men.
Who sunk the Turkish galleys in the Straits,
But Malefort? Who rescu'd the French merchants,
When they were boarded, and stow'd under hatches
By the pirates of Algiers, when every minute
They did expect to be chain'd to the oar,
But your now doubted admiral?
Then you fill'd The air with shouts of joy, and did proclaim, When hope had left them, and grim-look'd despair Hover'd with sail-stretched wings over their heads, To me, as to the Neptune of the sea, They ow'd the restitution of their goods, Their lives, their liberties. O, can it then Be probable, my lords, that he, that never Became the master of a pirate's ship, But at the mainyard hung the captain up, And caused the rest to be thrown overboard, Should, after all these proofs of deadly hate So often expressed against 'em, entertain A thought of quarter with 'em, but much less(To the perpetual ruin of my glories) To join with them to lift a wicked arm Against my mother country, this Marseilles, Which with my prodigal expense of blood: I have so oft protected.
Omitted in the power of flesh and blood,
Even in the birth to strangle the designs
Of this hell-bred wolf, my son? Alas! my lord,
I am no god, nor like one could foresee
His cruel thoughts, and cursed purposes;
Nor would the sun at my command forbear
To make his progress to the other world,
Affording to us one continued light.
Nor could my breath disperse these foggy mists,
Cover'd with which, and darkness of the night,
Their navy, undiscern'd, without resistance
Beset our harbour. Make not that my fault,
Which you, in justice, must ascribe to fortune.
But if that, nor my former acts, nor what
I have deliver'd, can prevail with you
To make good my integrity and truth ; -
Rip up this bosom, and pluck out the heart
That hath been ever loyal.-
-Thou searcher of men's hearts,
And sure defender of the innocent!
(My other crying sins awhile not look'd on)
If in this I am guilty, strike me dead;
Or, by some unexpected meaus, confirm,
I am accus'd unjustly.
III. Hermione pleading her innocence.
Behold our human actions (as they do),
I doubt not then, but innocence shall make
False accusation blush, and tyranny
Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know
(Who least will seem to do so) my past life
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true,
As I am now unhappy; which is more
Than history can pattern, though devis'd,
And play'd, to take spectators: For behold
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe
A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter,
The mother to a hopeful prince,-here standing,
To prate and talk for life, and honour, 'fore
Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it
As I weigh grief, which I would spare; for honour,
'Tis a derivative from me to mine,
And only that I stand for. I appeal
To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes
Came to your court, how was I in your grace,
How merited to be so; since he came,
With what encounter so uncurrent I
Have strain'd, to appear thus; if one jot beyond
'The bound of honour; or, in act, or will,
That way inclining; harden'd be the hearts
Of all that hear me, and my nearʼst of kin
Cry, fie, upon my grave.
IV. Othello's apology.
Most potent, grave, and reverend signors, My very noble and approv'd good masters;
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true; true, A have married her ;--
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent-no more. Rude am i in speech,
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace;
For since these arms of mine had seven years pith,
Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd
Their dearest action in the tented field;
And little of this great world can I speak,
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;
And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
In speaking for myself : yet, by your patience,
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver
Of my whole course of love-what drugs, what charma What conjuration, and what mighty magic,
(For such proceeding I am charg'd withal,)
I won his daughter with.
Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;
Still question'd me the story of my life;
From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes,
That I have past.
I run it through, e'en from my boyish days,
To the very moment that he bade me tell it:
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances;
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field;
Of hair-breadth 'scapes in the imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the insolent foe,
And sold to slavery of my redemption thence ;-
Of battles bravely, hardly fought: of victories,
For which the conqueror mourn'd-so many fell!
Sometimes I told the story of a siege,
Wherein I had to combat plagues and famine:
Soldiers unpaid: fearful to fight, yet bold
In dangerous mutiny. These things to hear
Would Desdemona seriously incline;
But still the house affairs would draw her thence,-
Which ever as she could with haste dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I observing,
Took once a pliant hour; and found good means
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate,~
Whereof by parcels she had something heard,
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