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I would not my unhoused free condition
For the sea's worth. But, look! what lights come yonder?
Enter Cassio, at a distance, and certain Officers with torches.
Iago. These 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,
Oth. 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?
Cas. 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,
To search you out.
And go with you.
'Tis well I am found by you.
Ancient, what makes he here?
Iago. 'Faith, he to-night hath boarded a land ca
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever.
A rich vessel.
Iago. Marry, to-Come, captain, will you go?
Have with you.
Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for you.
Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, and Officers of night, with torches and weapons.
Iago. It is Brabantio:-general, be advis'd;
He comes to bad intent.
Hola! stand there!
Rod. Signior, it is the Moor.
Down with him, thief! [They draw on both sides.
lago. You, Roderigo! come, sir, I am for you. Oth. Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
Good signior, you shall more command with years, Than with your weapons.
Bra. 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 magick were not bound,
To terrify, not delight.
That waken motion :-I'll have it disputed on;
Hold your hands,
Both you of my inclining, and the rest:
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it
To prison: till fit time
Of law, and course of direct session,
What if I do obey?
How may the duke be therewith satisfied;
'Tis true, most worthy signior,
The duke's in council; and your noble self,
How the duke in council!
In this time of the night!-Bring him away:
Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own:
The pagans and bond-slaves of Africa.
The same. 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.
Indeed, they are disproportion'd;
My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys.
2 Sen. 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!
Enter an Officer, with a Sailor.
Off. A messenger from the galleys.
Now? the business?
Sail. 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? 1 Sen.
This cannot be,
By no assay of reason; 'tis a pageant,
And let ourselves again but understand,
That, as it more concerns the Turk than Rhodes,
That Rhodes is dress'd in:-if we make thought of this,
We must not think, the Turk is so unskilful,
To wake, and waget, a danger profitless.
Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for Rhodes. Off. Here is more news.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. The Ottomites, reverend and gracious, Steering with due course toward the isle of Rhodes, Have there injointed them with an after-fleet.
1 Sen. Ay, so I thought:-How many, as you guess?
Mess. Of thirty sail: and now do they re-stem Their backward course, bearing with frank appear.
Their purposes towards 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 Lucchesé, is he not in town?
1 Sen. He's now in Florence.
Duke. Write from us; wish him post-post-haste: despatch.
1 Sen. Here comes Brabantio, and the valiant Moor.
+ State of defence,