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 reduces the brave to a level with the pusillanimous.)—"Every puny whipster gets my sword, exclaims Othello, for why should honour outlive honesty?—Where I could not be honest, says Albany, I was never valiant.—Jachimo imputes his want of manhood to the heaviness and guilt within his bosom.—Hamlet asserts that conscience does make cowards of us all; and Imogen tells Pisanio, he may be valiant in a better cause, but now he seems a coward."

Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 297. Is there, among these instances, one that approaches to any thing like a parallel with Macbeth? The sophistry of such perverse trifling with a reader's