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