administration, I should raise
her virtuous statue to the skies until its pinnacle shone above the uplands
of omnipotence!

"Philosophy teaches us that vice and virtue are at eternal war, and that
whether married or single, the happiest state of man or woman is personal
independence!

_"Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed,
Or pain his head;
Those that live single, take it for a curse,
Or do things worse;
Some would have children, those that have them mourn,
Or wish they were gone;
What is it then, to have or have no wife,
But single thraldom, or a double strife!_

"My friends: The ocean is the solitary handmaid of eternity. Cold and salt
cure alike!

"Men are like ants, crawling up and down.

"Some carry corn, some carry their young, and all go to and fro--at last a
little heap of dust!"

The states' attorney took his seat, with frantic applause rattling in his
ears.

Although the sentiments of Bacon were variable, mixed, foreign and
epigrammatic, they received great attention; for no matter who may be the
speaker at a banquet where royalty and power are the subjects at issue,
there will be great and tremendous cheering by little sycophants who expect
reward, and of course, by those patriots who have already received favors
from the administration pie counter.

Sir Walter at last arose and said "that although the hour was late, or,
more properly speaking, early, he earnestly desired the noble gentlemen
present to hear one whose fame, in the world of dramatic letters, like the
morning sun, had already flashed upon the horizon and rapidly approached
the high noon of earthly immortality--William Shakspere, of
Stratford-on-Avon!"

Then could be heard roof-lifting cheers by all present, who had often heard
the Bard in his lofty language and kingly strides at the Blackfriars.

William, in the flush of self-conscious, imperial, splendid manhood
exclaimed:

"Gentlemen:

_Your toast of glory to The Virgin Queen
Cracks high heaven with reverberation,
And through the ambient air, sonorous,
The echoing muses mingle the
Harmony of the spheres with celestial repetition!
Elizabeth, I lift my song to thee,
In holy adoration
To echo down the flowing tide of ages!_

_Within the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead and gallant knights,