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And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp; Why, what should be the fear? For exile hath more terror in his look, His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace, and fear: O, fear me not. In the affliction of these terrible dreams Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear. Taken from Paul's to be interred there; Fear me not. For fear of that I still will stay with thee, The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.-- Why, what should you fear? No, marry; I fear thee! I fear, too early: for my mind misgives What fear is this which startles in our ears? For a dark hour or twain. If no inconstant toy nor womanish fear