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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 !

XLII.

YOUTH AND AGE.

RABBED age and youth cannot live together :

Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care ; Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather ;

Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare. Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short ;

Youth is nimble, age is lame ;
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and

age

is tame. Age, I do abhor thee ; youth, I do adore thee ; O! my love, my love is

young Age, I do defy thee: 0 ! sweet shepherd, hie thee,

For methinks thou stayest too long.

Sir HENRY WOTTON,

1568–1639.

XLIII.

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.

H

OW happy is he born and taught,

That serveth not another's will ;
Whose armour is his honest thought,

And simple truth his utmost skill !

Whose passions not his masters are ;

Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care

of public fame, or private breath ;

Who envies none that chance doth raise,

Nor vice ; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise ;

Nor rules of state, but rules of good;

Who hath his life from rumours freed ;

Whose conscience is his strong retreat ;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,

Nor ruin make oppressors great :

F

1

Who God doth late and early pray

More of his grace than gifts to lend ; And entertains the harmless day

With a religious book or friend.

This man is freed from servile bands

Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands;

And having nothing, yet hath all.

THOMAS DEKKER,

1570 ?-1638?

XLIV.

SONG.

AN
RT thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers :

O sweet content !
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplexed ?

O punishment.
Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vexed ?
To add to golden numbers, golden numbers.

O sweet content, О sweet content.
Work apace, apace, apace, apace,
Honest labour bears a lovely face,
Then hey nonny, nonny: hey nonny, nonny.

Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring,

O sweet content !
Swim'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own tears,

O punishment.
Then he that patiently want's burden bears,
No burden bears, but is a king, a king.

O sweet content, О sweet content.
Work apace, apace, apace, apace,
Honest labour bears a lovely face,
Then hey nonny, nonny: hey nonny, nonny.

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