Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.

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 a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

This life, which had been the tomb of his virtue and of his honour, is but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

A dream itself is but a shadow.

You come most carefully upon your hour.

Some there be that shadow kiss; Such have but a shadow's bliss.