All the world's a stage,
and all the men and women merely players.
They have their exits and entrances;
and one man in his time plays many parts.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
and then is heard no more.
It is silliness to live when to live is torment,
and then have we a prescription to die,
when death is our physician.
I impair not beauty being mute,
when others would give life, and bring a tomb.
So long men can breathe, or eyes can see,
so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Your name from hence,
immortal life shall have.
Though i, once gone, to all the
world must die.
- JoinedJanuary 20, 2019
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