 to which, in Fact, they have no
better Title, than the Player hath to be in Earnest thought the King or Emperor
whom he represents. Thus the Hypocrite may be said to be a Player; and indeed
the Greeks called them both by one and the same Name.
    The Brevity of Life hath likewise given Occasion to this Comparison. So the
immortal Shakespear:
 
- Life's a poor Player,
That struts and frets his Hour upon the Stage,
And then is heard no more.
 
For which hackneyed Quotation, I will make the Reader Amends by a very noble
one, which few, I believe, have read. It is taken from a Poem called the DEITY,
published about nine Years ago, and long since buried in Oblivion. A Proof that
good Books no more than good Men do always survive the bad.
 
From thee7 all human Actions take their Springs,
The Rise of Empires, and the Fall of Kings!
See the VAST THEATRE OF TIME display'd,
While o'er the Scene succeeding Heroes tread!
With Pomp the shining Images succeed,
What Leaders triumph, and what Monarchs bleed!
Perform the Parts thy Providence assign'd,
Their Pride, their Passions to thy Ends inclin'd:
A while they glitter in the Face of Day,
Then at thy Nod the Phantoms pass away;
No Traces left of all the busy Scene,
But that Remembrance says - THE THINGS HAVE BEEN!
 
In all these, however, and in every other Similitude of Life to the Theatre, the
Resemblance hath been always taken from the Stage only. None, as I remember,
have at all considered the Audience at this great Drama.
    But as Nature often exhibits some of her best Performances to a very full
House; so will the Behaviour of her Spectators no less admit the above-mentioned
Comparison than that of her Actors. In this vast Theatre of Time are seated the
Friend and the Critic; here are Claps and Shouts, Hisses and Groans; in short,
every Thing which was ever seen or heard at the Theatre Royal.
    Let us examine this in one Example: For Instance, in the Behaviour of the
great Audience on that Scene which Nature was pleased to exhibit in the 12th
Chapter of the preceding Book, where she introduced Black George running away
with the 500 l. from his Friend and Benefactor.
    Those who sat in the World's upper Gallery, treated that Incident, I am well
convinced, with their usual Vociferation; and every Term of scurrilous Reproach
was most probably vented on that Occasion.
    If we had descended to the next Order of
