text:  To Shakspeare the Promethean maker of men and women earthly-moulded if kindled into life with fire from heaven--give a stage and actors!--Give men and women to personate men and women!--And give three thousand men and women to throng roundabout and look and listen--thrill and weep--suspended in one breathlessness! But not because he has deigned to trace upon those actual boards his magical ring and because within it his powerful art calls up no air-made phantasmagoria but breathing and sentient _substantial_ humanity; not therefore is he less a magician--less a POET--less if you will a dreamer