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.

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.

Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
read more

Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd;
How long, how short, we know not:--this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the summons,
Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.

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.

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

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

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.

Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight,
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . . .
read more

Britannia's shame! There took her gloomy flight,
On wing impetuous, a black sullen soul . . .
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.
O Britain! infamous for suicide.

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.

Fool! I mean not
That poor-souled piece of heroism, self-slaughter;
Oh no! the miserablest day we live
read more

Fool! I mean not
That poor-souled piece of heroism, self-slaughter;
Oh no! the miserablest day we live
There's many a better thing to do than die!