Cymbeline

Fear no more the heat o' the sun

Nor the furious winters' rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

The sceptre, learning, physic, must

All follow this and come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' th' great;

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke

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.

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan.

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee and come to dust.