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The other affections of the heart paint themselves no otherwise on the face than by making an alteration in some of its traces; but love, (and the same may in some measure be faid of joy) has the evident privilege of giving new graces, new beauties to the countenance; and of concealing, or even, for the time, amending its defects. Tho' a player, therefore, is able to represent to us a tolerably perfect image at least, of any other pafsion, without, in reality, fubmitting himself to its government; yet it does not follow, that he can by the fame means imitate, even tho' it were but imperfectly, the joyous intoxication of Love, without his being truly affected by it himself.

It would be expecting impossibilities to require, that in every tender scene that is to be represented on the stage, the two persons who perform'd the enamour'd parts should always be, in reality, in love with one another: as to this we only know, that when this is the cafe, we have the advantage of feeing the scene much better play'd than it can be under any other circumstances; but we are to with, in general, that both performers could always take up the paffion, for the moment their parts require them; and that, if it be only affumed for the occafion, it may appear as strongly as poffible: they will never make even the lightest impreffion upon us, if they have not at least a natural inclination for the paffion in itself, whatever they may have for the perfon whom chance has thrown into their way for the present imaginary object of it. It is as impoffible for us to make a perfon, on whom youth, beauty, and accomplishments in woman have no power in real life, to borrow the extafies, the transporting frenzy, and all the gay delights that attend that paffion from what he

fees

fees in others, as to make the dark and melancholy night express the brightness of the fineft day.

CHAP. V.

Which is a corollary to the foregoing Chapter.

S

IN CE a natural disposition to love and tenderness is a necessary requifite for playing the character of a lover to advantage, it is very evident that no actor ought to attempt parts of this kind, if he be past that period of his age in which loving would be proper in real life. The remembering our past impressions will never prove sufficient for our expreffing them as if present: 'tis in vain, on this occafion, that we call back what we once were in our thoughts, when the warmth and activity of our blood gave the paffions a command over us that we now no Jonger acknowledge. These ideas, when our juices are become cold and frozen, scarce able to creep along their passages, feem but the remembrance of a pleasant dream; and can never awaken in us again those soft transports that were our happiness while they were in their perfection. In order to their producing this effect upon us, it is neceffary that the objects of our paffion appear to us fuch as they did at that time; but how is this poffible, when we have no longer the fame eyes to view them with? It is the unlucky circumstance of human life, on this occafion, that the more we lose the right of being difficult to please, the nicer we become on that head; and as we deferve less, we expect more.

In this situation, what means are there by which an actor and an actress can transform themselves, according to our defires or expectations, or according to the neceffity the author has laid them under, into a pair of lovers, who believe that they fee in the object of their adoration every thing that nature has created perfect or amiable in the sex. Independently of what the players, in the latter part of their lives, want in the warmth of their hearts and inclinations, beside that they neither fee with the fame eyes, nor are capable of being affected in the fame sensible manner that they would have been while younger, they ought to remember, that they will assuredly be in the fame fort of aukward perplexity in performing on the ftage the characters of amorous people, that they would be in, if what they are pretending were a reality. They will speak the language of love to a suppos'd mistress so much the more faintly, as they are sensible they should do it were they in real life, and repeating the courtship of their younger days. They cannot but be sensible that they should not in the latter cafe be able to perfwade; and they will never find it possible to take up, in the former, the deportment and tone of voice, and the thousand niceties of sensation and expreffion, by means of which they might have hoped to fucceed in a more proper time of life.

SECT.

SECTION the SECOND.

Of those Qualifications which, when they fall to the Share of that Class of Actors spoken of in the Second Book, peculiarly interest the Senfes of an Audience.

That Sort of Voice which may be very adequate to certain Characters, may be by no means fufficient for the Actor, in Parts by which we are to be peculiarly moved and affected.

W

E should not fail to think it an abfurd and ridiculous attempt in any man who should bring himself before us on the stage, be it in tragedy or in comedy, without adequate organs for the performance of what we expect from every one who comes there, who should perswade himself, that he could be understood without being heard; and that an audience would patiently open their ears to hear the dumb speak, or fit down to fee those scenes, into which they know the author has thrown every ornament that wit, spirit and genius could give them, fink in the representation into the cold stupidity of pantomimes. Provided, however, that the actors in comedy do but take care to express themselves fo distinctly, and articulately, that they do not let us lose a fyllable of what the author puts into their mouths, we, in many cafes, very readily pass over the want of a fine tone, or the elegancies of a good voice.

G4

Per

Perhaps it may be even establish'd as a rule, that it is not to the advantage of the Actor in comedy to have too full and fonorous a voice. The use of this in tragedy, all the world is acquainted with; but as whatever the voice gains in fullness, it loses in swiftness; and as to speak quick, yet articulately, is the great merit, in many cafes, in comedy; a swift and manageable voice, ready for every turn of expreffion, is the most of all to be wish'd for, in the actor who has these parts assign'd him. The persons who would fucceed in tragedy, on the contrary, have occasion for a voice that is strong, majestic, and pathetic. Comedy, even when the author means that we should be touch'd by it fomewhat in the manner of tragedy, is yet intended to give us but a flight fenfation of this kind; and therefore it re. quires but little of this assistant energy: Weexpect, on the other hand, from tragedy, the most strong and violent emotions; and to produce these, we always require fonorous voices in the principal characters engag'd in scenes where there is room to raise them. It is absolutely necessary, therefore, to the success of tragedy, that the voice of the persons who perform the capital parts in it be proper, at the fame time to command the attention, to impress a fort of reverence on the audience, and to raise the greatest emotions in their hearts; that it be such as can give all the strength and vigour to the vehemence of the paffions, that the author could wish in them; all the noble majesty that he intended in the expreffion of his most elevated sentiments ; and where an affecting forrow is to be delivered, that it have all that eloquent energy that is neceffary to strike, to seize upon, to penetrate the