The Tragedy of Othello, Moor of Venice. Уильям Шекспир

        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!

        FIRST OFFICER. A messenger from the galleys.

        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 unskillful

          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.

        FIRST OFFICER. Here is more news.

        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. Of thirty sail; and now they do re-stem

          Their backward course, bearing with frank appearance

          Their purposes toward Cyprus. Signior Montano,

          Your trusty and most valiant servitor,

          With his free duty recommends you thus,

          And prays you to believe him.

        DUKE. 'Tis certain then for Cyprus.

          Marcus Luccicos, is not he in town?

        FIRST SENATOR. He's now in Florence.

        DUKE. Write from us to him, post-post-haste dispatch.

        FIRST SENATOR. Here comes Brabantio and the valiant Moor.

        DUKE. Valiant Othello, we must straight employ you

          Against the general enemy Ottoman.

          [To Brabantio.] I did not see you; welcome, gentle signior;

          We lack'd your counsel and your help tonight.

        BRABANTIO. So did I yours. Good your Grace, pardon me:

          Neither my place nor aught I heard of business

          Hath raised me from my bed, nor doth the general care

          Take hold on me; for my particular grief

          Is of so flood-gate and o'erbearing nature

          That it engluts and swallows other sorrows,

          And it is still itself.

        DUKE. Why, what's the matter?

        BRABANTIO. My daughter! O, my daughter!

        ALL. Dead?

        BRABANTIO. Ay, to me.

          She is abused, stol'n from me and corrupted

          By spells and medicines bought of mountebanks;

          For nature so preposterously to err,

          Being not deficient, blind, or lame of sense,

          Sans witchcraft could not.

        DUKE. Whoe'er he be that in this foul proceeding

          Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself

          And you of her, the bloody book of law

          You shall yourself read in the bitter letter

          After your own sense, yea, though our proper son

          Stood in your action.

        BRABANTIO. Humbly I thank your Grace.

          Here is the man, this Moor, whom now, it seems,

          Your special mandate for the state affairs

          Hath hither brought.

        ALL. We are very sorry for't.

        DUKE. [To Othello.] What in your own part can you say to this?

        BRABANTIO. Nothing, but this is so.

        OTHELLO. Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,

          My very noble and approved good masters,

          That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,

          It is most true; true, I have 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 soft phrase of peace;

          For since these arms of mine had seven