William Shakespeare on Sleep
← Back to William Shakespeare Profile
“Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself!”
“O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her And be her sense but as a monument.”
“Sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.”
“But I pray you, let none of your people stir me: I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.”
“Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep," the innocent sleep.”
“Bid them come forth and hear me, Or at their chamber-door I'll beat the drum Till it cry sleep to death.”
“This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd So many English kings.”
“Thou lead them thus, Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep With leaden legs and batty wings doth creep.”
“Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.”
“O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness?”
“To sleep! perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause.”
“Thy eyes' windows fall, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; Each part, depriv'd of supple government, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death.”
“Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.”
“Fast asleep? It is no matter; Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber; Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies, Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.”
“O polish'd perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night! sleep with it now! Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet As he whose brow with homely biggen bound Snores out the watch of night.”
“Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?”
“On your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness: Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep, As is the difference betwixt day and night, The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the east.”