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Here comes another troop to seek for you.

      Enter Brabantio, Roderigo and Officers with torches and weapons.

      IAGO.

       It is Brabantio. General, be advis’d,

       He comes to bad intent.

      OTHELLO.

       Holla, stand there!

      RODERIGO.

       Signior, it is the Moor.

      BRABANTIO.

       Down with him, thief!

      [They draw on both sides.]

      IAGO.

       You, Roderigo! Come, sir, I am for you.

      OTHELLO.

       Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.

       Good signior, you shall more command with years

       Than with your weapons.

      BRABANTIO.

       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, to 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 practis’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 practiser

       Of arts inhibited and out of warrant.—

       Lay hold upon him, if he do resist,

       Subdue him at his peril.

      OTHELLO.

       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. Where will you that I go

       To answer this your charge?

      BRABANTIO.

       To prison, till fit time

       Of law and course of direct session

       Call thee to answer.

      OTHELLO.

       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?

      OFFICER.

       ’Tis true, most worthy signior,

       The duke’s in council, and your noble self,

       I am sure is sent for.

      BRABANTIO.

       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.

      [Exeunt.]

      SCENE III. Venice. A council chamber.

      The Duke and Senators sitting at a table; Officers attending.

      DUKE.

       There is no composition in these news

       That gives them credit.

      FIRST SENATOR.

       Indeed, they are disproportion’d;

       My letters say a hundred and seven galleys.

      DUKE.

       And mine a hundred and forty.

      SECOND SENATOR

       And mine two hundred:

       But though they jump not on a just account,

       (As in these cases, where the aim reports,

       ’Tis oft with difference,) yet do they all confirm

       A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus.

      DUKE.

       Nay, it is possible enough to judgement:

       I do not so secure me in the error,

       But the main article I do approve

       In fearful sense.

      SAILOR.

       [Within.] What, ho! what, ho! what, ho!

      OFFICER.

       A messenger from the galleys.

      Enter Sailor.

      DUKE.

       Now—what’s the business?

      SAILOR.

       The Turkish preparation makes for Rhodes,

       So was I bid report here to the state

       By Signior Angelo.

      DUKE.

       How say you by this change?

      FIRST SENATOR.

       This cannot be

       By no assay of reason. ’Tis a pageant

       To keep us in false gaze. When we consider

       The importancy of Cyprus to the Turk;

       And let ourselves again but understand

       That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,

       So may he with more facile question bear it,

       For that it stands not in such warlike brace,

       But altogether lacks the abilities

       That Rhodes is dress’d in. If we make thought of this,

       We must not think the Turk is so unskilful

       To leave that latest which concerns him first,

       Neglecting an attempt of ease and gain,

       To wake and wage a danger profitless.

      DUKE.

       Nay, in all confidence, he’s not for Rhodes.

      OFFICER.

       Here is more news.

      Enter a Messenger.

      MESSENGER.

       The Ottomites, reverend and gracious,

       Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes,

       Have there injointed them with an after fleet.

      FIRST SENATOR.

       Ay, so I thought. How many, as you guess?

      MESSENGER.

      

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