Fear no more the heat o' th' 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.
Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.
One pain is lessened by another's anguish.