[125]. Epistol., vol. I, p. 278.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
(Macbeth, a. V, sc. 5).
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life