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 approv’d 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 bless’d with the soft 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 gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish’d tale deliver 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. 

BRABANTIO. A maiden never bold: Of spirit so still and quiet that her motion Blush’d at herself; and she, in spite of nature, Of years, of country, credit, everything, To fall in love with what she fear’d to look on! It is judgement maim’d and most imperfect That will confess perfection so could err Against all rules of nature, and must be driven To find out practices of cunning hell, Why this should be. I therefore vouch again, That with some mixtures powerful o’er the blood, Or with some dram conjur’d to this effect, He wrought upon her. 

DUKE. To vouch this is no proof; Without more wider and more overt test Than these thin habits and poor likelihoods Of modern seeming do prefer against him. 

FIRST SENATOR. But, Othello, speak: Did you by indirect and forced courses Subdue and poison this young maid’s affections? Or came it by request, and such fair question As soul to soul affordeth? 

OTHELLO. I do beseech you, Send for the lady to the Sagittary, And let her speak of me before her father. If you do find me foul in her report, The trust, the office I do hold of you, Not only take away, but let your sentence Even fall upon my life. 

DUKE. Fetch Desdemona hither. 

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