And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered Minister;
With spectacles, and prose, and votes on side,
His youthful views renounced, a world too wide
For his shrunk wits and his once manly voice,
Trying in vain to hoax the people, pipes
A miserable sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this sad disgraceful history,
Is childish Red-tapism, and mere routine:
Sans heart, sans brains, sans pluck, sans everything.