tarted, and trembling dropp'd it on the ground.

"In pronouncing the first two words, this egregious actor stoops down,
and seems to take up something from the stage, then proceeding to repeat
what follows, mimics the manner of unfolding a letter; when he mentions
the simile of an arrow piercing the eye, he darts his forefinger towards
that organ, then recoils with great violence when the word 'started' is
expressed; and when he comes to 'trembling dropp'd it on the ground,' he
throws all his limbs into a tremulous motion, and shakes the imaginary
paper from his hand. The latter part of the description is carried on
with the same minute gesticulation, while he says:--

Pale and aghast awhile my victim stood,
Disguis'd a sigh or two, and puff'd them from him;
Then rubb'd his brow, and took it up again.

The player's countenance assumes a wild stare, he sighs twice most
piteously, as if he were on the point of suffocation, scrubs his
forehead, and, bending his body, apes the action of snatching an object
from the floor. Nor is this dexterity of dumb-show omitted, when he
concludes his imitation in these three lines:--

At first he look'd as if he meant to read it;
But check'd by rising fears, he crushed it thus,
And thrust it, like an adder, in his bosom.

"Here the judicious performer imitates the confusion and concern of
Alonzo, seems to cast his eyes upon something, from which they are
immediately withdrawn with horror and precipitation then shutting
his fist with a violent squeeze, as if he intended to make immediate
application to Isabella's nose, he rams it in his own bosom, with all
the horror and agitation of a thief taken in the manner. Were the player
debarred the use of speech, and obliged to act to the eyes only of the
audience, this mimicry might be a necessary conveyance of his meaning;
but when he is at liberty to signify his ideas by language, nothing can
be more trivial, forced, unnatural, and antic, than this mummery. Not
that I would exclude from the representation the graces of action,
without which the choicest sentiments, clothed in the most exquisite
expression, would appear unanimated and insipid; but these are as
different from this ridiculous burlesque, as is the demeanour of a Tully
in the rostrum, from the tricks of a Jack-pudding on a mountebank's
stage. And, for the truth of what I allege, I appeal to the observation
of any person who has considered the eleg