r failings
therefore be forgotten! or rather, shall I in some measure excuse them!
For I am not yet sure, that they might not be as much owing to the false
judgment of the spectator, as the actor. While the million are so apt to
be transported, when the drum of their ear is so roundly rattled; while
they take the life of elocution to lie in the strength of the lungs, it
is no wonder the actor, whose end is applause, should be also tempted,
at this easy rate, to excite it. Shall I go a little farther? and allow
that this extreme is more pardonable than its opposite error? I mean
that dangerous affectation of the monotone, or solemn sameness of
pronunciation, which to my ear is insupportable; for of all faults that
so frequently pass upon the vulgar, that of flatness will have the
fewest admirers. That this is an error of ancient standing seems evident
by what Hamlet says, in his instructions to the players, _viz._

Be not too tame, neither, &c.

The actor, doubtless, is as strongly tied down to the rules of Horace as
the writer:

Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Primum ipsi tibi----

He that feels not himself the passion he would raise, will talk to a
sleeping audience: but this never was the fault of Betterton; and it has
often amazed me to see those who soon came after him, throw out in some
parts of a character, a just and graceful spirit, which Betterton
himself could not but have applauded. And yet in the equally shining
passages of the same character, have heavily dragged the sentiment along
like a dead weight; with a long-toned voice, and absent eye, as if they
had fairly forgot what they were about. If you have never made this
observation, I am contented you should not know where to apply it.

"A farther excellence in Betterton, was, that he could vary his spirit
to the different characters he acted. Those wild impatient starts, that
fierce and flashing fire, which he threw into Hotspur, never came from
the unruffled temper of his _Brutus_ (for I have more than once, seen a
_Brutus_ as warm as Hotspur) when the Betterton Brutus was provoked, in
his dispute with Cassius, his spirit flew only to his eye; his steady
look alone supplyed that terror, which he disdained an intemperance in
his voice should rise to. Thus, with a settled dignity of contempt, like
an unheeding rock, he repelled upon himself the foam of Cassius. Perhaps
the very works of Shakspeare will better let you into my meaning:

Must I