We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

The words of William Shakespeare, “We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone,” echo like a tolling bell across the ages. In this utterance, found in his history play Henry IV, Part II, the Bard reminds us that every man, no matter his rank or might, is bound beneath the dominion of time. Kings and commoners alike bow before its command, for it rules silently, without sword or crown, and yet with greater authority than any monarch. This phrase calls upon us to behold our own mortality, to see that we are not masters, but subjects, under the ceaseless march of hours that will one day dismiss us from life’s stage.

The meaning is both humbling and profound: we do not own time—it owns us. Each dawn that rises does not belong to us, but is a gift lent by forces greater than ourselves. When time bids be gone, there is no plea, no ransom, no protest that can halt its decree. The mightiest emperors have crumbled to dust at its command, while even the sweetest love stories must end when time whispers its final summons. Shakespeare gives us this teaching so that we might live not as arrogant masters, but as wise stewards of the fleeting moments granted to us.

Consider the life of Alexander the Great, conqueror of vast lands, whose ambition reached beyond mortal measure. By the age of thirty, he had subdued empires, spread Greek culture, and etched his name into eternity. Yet death seized him in Babylon, suddenly and without mercy. His armies could not defend him from illness, nor could his treasures bribe time to wait. Though hailed as near-divine, he was but another subject to time, called away before his ambitions were fulfilled. His story illustrates that even the grandest lives are shaped by the same law Shakespeare describes.

Yet, while the words seem sorrowful, they are not meant to weaken us, but to stir us to action. If time is our master, then let us prove ourselves noble subjects. Let us not waste the fleeting days in idleness or bitterness. Instead, let us honor time by filling its chambers with deeds of kindness, works of creativity, words of wisdom, and acts of love. To squander time is to dishonor the master who grants us our hours. To use it well is to transform our subjection into a legacy that endures.

History offers the shining example of Leonardo da Vinci, who, though bound by time like any man, filled his span with an abundance of wonder. Painter, inventor, engineer, philosopher—he crammed into one lifetime what seemed the labor of many. Though he could not escape death, the works he created outlasted his flesh, and so time’s decree could not erase his spirit. Leonardo understood that while man cannot defeat time, he may transcend it through what he leaves behind.

The lesson, then, is clear: live with urgency and reverence. Do not sleepwalk through the hours, for they are the very coin of existence. Rise each morning as though summoned to a sacred duty, knowing that every task, every word, every embrace might be your last chance to shape eternity. If you would have peace at the end, let no day pass without meaning.

Practically, this means we must choose wisely where to spend our time. Ask yourself: does this labor build or destroy? Does this conversation heal or wound? Does this pursuit bring me nearer to my true purpose or lead me astray? To live with such awareness is to rise above mere survival and to dwell instead in intentionality, where every moment becomes a thread in the great tapestry of life.

So, children of the future, engrave this upon your hearts: we are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone. You cannot wrestle the master into obedience, but you can honor the gift while it is given. Work with diligence, love with abandon, forgive without delay, and create with courage. When time at last calls you away, let it find you not clinging in fear, but standing tall, your days well spent, your spirit unafraid. For though you are a subject, your deeds may yet reign in the memory of mankind.