Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion ; 14
Act. iv, Sc. ii.
Song.
Fear no more the heat o* the sun*
Nor the furious winter's 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.
Fear no more the frown o* the 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.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the 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
No exorciser harm thee !
Nor no witchcraft charm thee !
Ghost unlaid forbear thee !
Nothing ill come near thee !
Quiet consummation have ;
And renowned be thy grave ! 15
