In literature he ’came a king.

To grasp the sceptre of the stage he wrote.

* * * * *

Whilst but a youth, at Stratford-upon-Avon,

He stole, poor lad! away from one Sir Thomas Lucy.

A lucky day was that for “Will,”—

When he began his “comedy of errors,”—

Startling, withal, men’s minds for ever and anon!

Erst chalking satire on the knighted-man’s own gateway.

“Measure for measure,” penn’d his quill,