Fear no more the heat o' the
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is
as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish'd joy
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exerciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing will come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renowned be thy grave!
(Cymbeline, IV, 2)