his licence to Sir John Vanbrugh. His private character was exemplary in the highest degree. He was kind-hearted, charitable, modest, and sincere. Though his salary was never large, he, with a prudence rare in his profession, contrived to save a moderate competence, which, when about to enjoy the reward of his life's labours, he lost in a commercial speculation, through the culpable persuasion of a friend. That friend, however, he frankly forgave, took charge of his helpless daughter on his death, and reared her as his own.
Oppressed by age and infirmities, he had to return to the stage; and the last character he played was Melantius, in "The Maid's Tragedy." He was then suffering under a severe attack of the gout, but took a repellent medicine, which enabled him to walk in slippers; and he acted with all the fire of his youth and the success of his manhood. But the ringing applause of that evening was his death-knell. The distemper returned with aggravated virulence, and in three days he was no more. He has generally been esteemed as the ablest actor this country has produced. His impersonation of Hamlet has been the theme of universal praise, and no one, before or since, ever approached so near that wondrous ideal. His first interview with the Ghost, a scene generally so tame and ineffective, he managed with such consummate art—so profound was the awe and terror depicted in his countenance—that a shudder would run through the audience as though they also felt the presence of the terrible phantom. And so thoroughly could he identify himself with his part, that, though of a sanguine complexion, he was frequently seen to turn ashy pale through the intensity of his emotion when his father's spirit again enters, and interrupts the dialogue with his guilty mother. Yet such perfection cost many a laborious effort. His figure was not good, his voice was
