text:  If Shakspeare were stripped of all the bombasts in his passions and dressed in the most vulgar words we should find the beauties of his thoughts remaining; if his embroideries were burnt down there would still be silver at the bottom of the melting-pot but I fear (at least let me fear it for myself) that we who ape his sounding words have nothing of his thought but are all outside; there is not so much as dwarf within our giant's clothes