"_The condition of an actor_ on the first night of his performing such a character as Macbeth is the most alarming, to a mind anxious to gain the public favour, _of any condition that the pursuit of fame or fortune can cast man into_. A dull plodding actor, whose utmost merit is mediocrity, is in no danger; he plods on from the indulgence of the publick, and their habit of seeing him, in safety; he never is in danger of offending by starts of genius, or by the unruly fire that the _fury of his spirits_ enkindles. Mediocrity is his merit; mediocrity is all that is expected from him; mediocrity is his protection. But the actor that can be impassioned in the extreme, and is _inflamed_ by Shakspeare's genius, will, on his first appearance in Macbeth, be _carried out of the reach of sober judgment_, and of wary, nice discretion; those passions and that _flame_ will _run away with him_, will make him _almost breathless_, _crack_ or hoarsen in his voice, arrest his memory, _confine his sight_, his action, gait, and deportment; and all that candour and the nicest judgment can expect from him is, that he shewed he understood his character, that he gave noble marks of genius and judgment, and that, when he had played the part half a dozen times, he would then charm and convince his audience of his powers, and of his having a competent capacity for it. "But let this man be but checked by a single hiss, all his fire will instantly cool; his spirits abate their motions; grief and despair will seize him, and at once he becomes the pining broken-hearted slave of the tyrant that ruined a wretch that was labouring to please him, who did not dare to resent the cruelty, nor to assist himself. A soldier in the very front of war, at the teeth of his enemy, _and at the mouth of a cannon_, is not in so wretched, _nor in so fatal_, so hopeless a state. The noble ardour of the soldier gives him hope, alacrity, effort, double, treble vigour and courage; the very danger adds to both, and to such a degree, as to make him lose even the idea of danger; _and sure death, even death, in that state is preferable_ to an actor, who by his post is _obliged to endure the hiss of a Reddish, or a Sparks_; or a critic who hisses him for daring to act a part of Mr. Garrick's, and who would _damn him_ to want and _infamy_, to shew he is an admirer of Mr. Garrick." Mr. Macklin then went on beseeching the audience to believe that the agitation he felt on Saturday evening prevented him from exerting his faculties; that he was then under the same terrors; and concluded by begging them to try his merits by uninterrupted attention for a few nights, and then applaud or reject him.