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From “Othello,” Act I. Sc. 3.
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 | 5 |
| Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, | |
| And little blessed with the soft phrase of peace; | |
| For since these arms of mine had seven years’ pith, | |
| Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used | |
| Their dearest action in the tented field; | 10 |
| 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 gracious patience, | |
| I will a round unvarnished tale deliver | 15 |
| Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms, | |
| What conjuration, and what mighty magic,— | |
| For such proceeding I am charged withal,— | |
| I won his daughter. * * * * * I ’ll present | |
| How I did thrive in this fair lady’s love, | 20 |
| And she in mine. * * * * * | |
| Her father loved me; oft invited me; | |
| Still questioned me the story of my life, | |
| From year to year;—the battles, sieges, fortunes, | |
| That I have passed. | 25 |
| I ran it through, even from my boyish days, | |
| To the very moment that he bade me tell it: | |
| Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances, | |
| Of moving accidents by flood and field; | |
| Of hair-breadth ’scapes i’ the imminent deadly breach; | 30 |
| Of being taken by the insolent foe, | |
| And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, | |
| And portance in my travel’s history: | |
| Wherein of antres vast, and deserts idle, | |
| Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads touch heaven, | 35 |
| It was my hint to speak,—such was the process; | |
| And of the Cannibals that each other eat, | |
| The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads | |
| Do grow beneath their shoulders. This to hear, | |
| Would Desdemona seriously incline: | 40 |
| But still the house affairs would draw her thence; | |
| Which ever as she could with haste despatch, | |
| 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 | 45 |
| To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, | |
| That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, | |
| Whereof by parcels she had something heard, | |
| But not intentively: I did consent; | |
| And often did beguile her of her tears, | 50 |
| When I did speak of some distressful stroke, | |
| That my youth suffered. My story being done, | |
| She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: | |
| She swore,—in faith ’t was strange, ’t was passing strange; | |
| ’T was pitiful, ’t was wondrous pitiful: | 55 |
| She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished | |
| That Heaven had made her such a man: she thanked me; | |
| And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, | |
| I should teach him how to tell my story, | |
| And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake: | 60 |
| She loved me for the dangers I had passed, | |
| And I loved her that she did pity them. | |
| This only is the witchcraft I have used: | |
| Here comes the lady, let her witness it. | |
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