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.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
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.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
'Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial,... The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, ... Not all these, laid in bed majestical, Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave Who with a body filled and vacant mind Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Now mark me how I will undo myself. I give this heavy weight from off my head,... And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart. With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven... Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself, And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things;... There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings: Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
"Mother of heaven, regina of the clouds, O sceptre of the sun, crown of the moon,... There is not nothing, no, no, never nothing, Like the clashed edges of two words that kill."LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »