morning, and I'm tired."

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," said Nero, grinning
broadly.

"You are a bright spirit," said Shakespeare, with a sigh. "I wish I had
thought to work you up into a tragedy."

"I've often wondered why you didn't," said Doctor Johnson. "He'd have
made a superb tragedy, Nero would. I don't believe there was any kind of
a crime he left uncommitted. Was there, Emperor?"

"Yes. I never wrote an English dictionary," returned the Emperor, dryly.
"I've murdered everything but English, though."

"I could have made a fine tragedy out of you," said Shakespeare. "Just
think what a dreadful climax for a tragedy it would be, Johnson, to have
Nero, as the curtain fell, playing a violin solo."

"Pretty good," returned the Doctor. "But what's the use of killing off
your audience that way? It's better business to let 'em live, I say.
Suppose Nero gave a London audience that little musicale he provided at
Queen Elizabeth's Wednesday night. How many purely mortal beings, do you
think, would have come out alive?"

"Not one," said Shakespeare. "I was mighty glad that night that we were
an immortal band. If it had been possible to kill us we'd have died then
and there."

"That's all right," said Nero, with a significant shake of his head. "As