For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?

Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortune's false lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; read more

Who doubting tyranny, and fainting under
Fortune's false lottery, desperately run
To death, for dread of death; that soul's most stout,
That, bearing all mischance, dares last it out.

Bravest at the last,
She levelled at our purposes, and being royal,
Took her own way.

Bravest at the last,
She levelled at our purposes, and being royal,
Took her own way.

If you like not hanging, drown yourself;
Take some course for your reputation.

If you like not hanging, drown yourself;
Take some course for your reputation.

There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is
confession.

There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is
confession.

But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, read more

But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man,
Then must it be an awful thing to die;
More horrid yet to die by one's own hand.

Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are read more

Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are afraid to die, as die because they are afraid to live

He
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard read more

He
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard valour.
This life's a fort committed to my trust,
Which I must not yield up, till it be forced:
Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die,
But he that boldly bears calamity.

Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens my weak hand.

Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens my weak hand.