Othello

by William Shakespeare

But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruis’d heart was piercèd through the ear.—

It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

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 350 our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this, that you call love, to be a sect or scion.