Our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so
that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed
up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with
many, either to have it sterile with
idleness
or manured with
industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in
our wills.
Shakespeare
If thou dost, I shall never love thee after.
Why, thou silly gentleman!
RODERIGO. It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then
have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
IAGO. O villainous! I have looked upon the world for four times
seven years, and since I could distinguish betwixt a benefit and
an injury, I never found man that knew how to love himself. Ere I
would say I would drown myself for the love of a guinea hen, I
would change my humanity with a baboon.
RODERIGO. What should I do? I confess it is my shame to be so fond,
but it is not in my virtue to amend it.
IAGO. Virtue? a fig! 'Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus.
Our bodies are gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners; so
that if we will plant nettles or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed
up thyme, supply it with one gender of herbs or distract it with
many, either to have it sterile with
idleness
or manured with
industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in
our wills.
If the balance of our lives had not one scale of
reason to poise another of sensuality, the blood and baseness of
our natures would conduct us to most preposterous conclusions.
But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings,
our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call love, to
be a sect or scion.
RODERIGO. It cannot be.
IAGO. It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the
will. Come, be a man! Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind
puppies. I have professed me thy friend, and I confess me knit to
thy deserving with cables of perdurable toughness; I could never
better stead thee than now. Put money in thy purse; follow thou
the wars; defeat thy favor with an usurped beard. I say, put
money in thy purse. It cannot be that Desdemona should long
continue her love to the Moor- put money in thy purse- nor he his
to her. It was a violent commencement, and thou shalt see an
answerable sequestration- put but money in thy purse. These Moors
are changeable in their wills- fill thy purse with money.
