You're just the breath that keeps this body of mine going by the hour, under God's direction. Just say to life, "If I lose you, I lose something that only idiots want to keep. That way, whether you live or die, it will be all the sweeter. What's yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even.īe completely set on death. Thou hast nor youth nor age, But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. Friend hast thou none For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, For ending thee no sooner. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee. Thou art not certain For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon. Happy thou art not For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get, And what thou hast, forget'st.
Thou art not thyself For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provokest yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more. Thou'rt by no means valiant For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm. Thou art not noble For all the accommodations that thou bear'st Are nursed by baseness.
Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences, That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun And yet runn'st toward him still. Be absolute for death either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter.
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