a deep impression on the audience, and caused the King to squirm in his throne chair at the contemplation of the murder of Duncan, but when William entered as Macbeth and rendered the following speech James wished himself a million miles away, and yet applauded to the echo the murdering thoughts of the Scottish chieftain:

"If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well
It were done quickly. If the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,
With his surcease, success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,-
We'd jump the life to come; but, in these cases
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which being taught, return
To plague the inventor. This evenhanded justice
Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice,
To our own lips. He's here in double trust;
First as I am his kinsman and his subject,
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,
Who should against his murderer shut the door,
Not bear the knife himself. Besides, this Duncan
Hath born his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking off;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless coursers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind; I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other!"

Still brooding on the murder of Duncan, Macbeth says:

"Is this a dagger which I see before me,

The handle towards my hand? Come, let me clutch thee;

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still,
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but
A dagger of the mind; a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat oppressed brain?
I see thee yet in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.

Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going; And such an instrument I was to use.

Mine eyes are made the fools of the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still;
And on thy blade and handle, gouts of blood,
Which was not so before, there's no such thing;
It is the bloody business, which informs
Thus to mine eyes, now o'er the one-half world
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtained sleeper; now witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings, and withered murder
Alarmed by his sentinel, the wolf,

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace

With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design

Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear

The very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it. While I threat, he lives,
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives;
I go and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell!"

After the murder of Duncan, Lady Macbeth is constantly haunted with the ghost of her victim, and in midnight hours, sick at soul, walks in her sleep, talking of her bloody deed:

"Out damned spot! out I say!
Here's the smell of the blood still;
All the perfumes of Arabia

Will not sweeten this little hand!"

And then retiring to her purple couch, amidst the cries of her waiting women, she dies with insane groans echoing through her castle halls.

Macbeth, the pliant, cowardly, ambitious tool of his wicked wife, is at last surrounded by Macduff and his soldiers, and informed that his lady is dead.

And then soliloquizing on time and life, he utters these philosophic phrases:

"She should have died hereafter;

There would have been a time for such a word;
To-morrow; and to-morrow, and to-morrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!

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!"

And then, in the forest in front of the castle Macbeth is at last brought to bay and killed by Macduff; but the murderer of Duncan, brave to the last, exclaims:

"Yet I will try the last; before my body I throw my warlike shield; lay on, Macduff, And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!"

A whirlwind of applause echoed through the royal halls at the conclusion of the great Scotch historical drama, and Shakspere was loudly called before the footlights, making a general bow to the audience, and paying deep, low courtesy to the King, who beckoned him to the throne chair, and placed about his neck a heavy golden chain with a miniature of His Majesty attached. William was glorified.

"Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

SHAKSPERE AS MONOLOGIST.

KING JAMES.

"He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause."

"The king-becoming graces

Are justice, verity, temperance, stableness,
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude."

SHAKSPERE became a prime favorite of King James, and occasionally he entertained the Bard at Whitehall Palace, introducing him to the bishops, cardinals and lords, who were interested in the revision of the Bible. They were astonished at the detailed knowledge of Shakspere, touching the "Word of God;" and when he entered into a dissertation of the Hebrew, Greek and Latin philosophers and "divines" who concocted the history of the ancients, they marveled at his native erudition.

These modern preachers had been educated and empurpled in the classical ruts of ancient superstitious divinity, while William communed with immediate nature, and taught lessons of virtue and vice on the dramatic stage that impresses the rushing world, far more than dictatorial dogmas or pulpit platitudes.