——All the World’s a Stage, And all the men and women meerly Players; They have their Exits and their Entrances, And one man in his time plays many Parts, His Acts being seven Ages. At first the Infant Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms: And then, the whining School-boy with his satchel, And shining morning-face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the Lover Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his Mistress’ eye-brow. Then a Soldier Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the Pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble Reputation Ev’n in the cannon’s mouth. And then the Justice In fair round belly, with good capon lin’d, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth Age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d Pantaloon, With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice Turning again tow’rd childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound: Last Scene of all, That ends this strange eventful History, Is second childishness and meer oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans ev’ry thing. His Images are indeed ev’ry where so lively, that the thing he would represent stands full before you, and you possess ev’ry part of it. I will venture to point out one more, which is, I think, as strong and as uncommon as any thing I ever saw; ’tis an image of Patience. Speaking of a maid in love, he says, ——She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i’th’ bud, Feed on her damask cheek: She pin’d in thought, And sate like _Patience_ on a monument, Smiling at _Grief_. What an Image is here given! and what a task would it have been for the greatest masters of _Greece_ and _Rome_ to have express’d the passions design’d by this sketch of Statuary! The stile of his Comedy is, in general, natural to the characters, and easie in it self; and the wit most commonly sprightly and pleasing, except in those places where he runs into dogrel rhymes, as in _The Comedy of Errors_, and a passage or two in some other plays. As for his jingling sometimes, and playing upon words, it was the common vice of the age he liv’d in: And if we find it in the Pulpit, made use of as an ornament to the Sermons of some of the gravest Divines of those times; perhaps it may not be thought too light for the Stage.