I.
STRATFORD.
Perhaps the last lines of this
poem may remind some readers of Shakespeare's
reputed reply to Ben Jonson:—
JONSON.
If but stage actors all the world displays,
Where shall be found spectators of the plays?
SHAKESPEARE.
Little or much of what we see we do,
We are all actors and spectators too.
This is the street where Shakespeare's childhood grew
To Shakespeare's manhood, back to which he drew,
To walk in peace along the paths he knew.
At morn and eve of quiet days
To hear the small birds' well-known lays,
To see the bat flit noiselessly,
And rooks against the molten sky,
He passed the loud-mouthed audience by,
And left to all the winds of fate
The poet's immortality,
Yea, even to the green-room care
Heminge and Condell had to spare.
So act the strong self-centred great!
‘Children we are as ye,’ they say,
‘Players, spectators, for life's day,
Which are the masters of the play?’
