'And what does that prove?' he asked, with an oratorical flourish. 'Does it prove that I am fit for nothing better, or that I am a conscientious actor? When I have a part to play, I play it; I don't play Turk West every night. See me play the Thug, and I defy you to recognise me; see me as the First Murderer in _Macbeth_, and I defy you to recognise the Thug. When I first played the Thug, my own mother didn't know me; "That's something like acting," she said; and she ought to have known, rest her soul! for she played a baby in arms before she was out of long clothes, and spoke lines on the stage when she was three years old. Why, sir, my struggle with old Martin, in _The Will and the Way_, was said to be the most realistic thing ever seen on the stage--and do I look as if I would murder a man? It was art, sir, pure art. I am a conscientious actor--a conscientious actor, sir, Chris, my boy--and what I have to play, I play. Give me a strong leading part in a good piece, in a good theatre in the West-end--in the West-end, sir, Chris, my boy, not in this heaven-forsaken quarter--and then see what I can do! Why, sir, there are men occupying leading positions in our best theatres who can't hold a candle to Turk West--I'm not a vain man, and I say they can't hold a candle to Turk West! There are men--whose names I'll not mention, for I'm not envious and I only speak in the interests of art--men on the boards on the other side of Temple Bar--where I've never been seen--who are drawing large screws, and who have as much idea of acting as a barn-door fowl. What do they play? They play _themselves_, never mind what characters they represent. Dress doesn't make a character--it's the voice, and the manner, and the bearing. Why, look at----never mind; I said I wouldn't mention names. Directly he comes on the stage--whether he plays a young man or a middle-aged man or an old man, a man of this century or a man of the last century, or farther back if you please--everybody says, "Ah, there's old So-and-so!" And he uses the same action and the same leer and the same walk, as if the hundreds of characters he has played in his time were written to represent _him_, not as if, having taken to the stage, it was his duty to represent _them_. Call that acting! It's death and destruction to art, that's what it is. And the public stand it--stand it, sir, Chris, my boy--being led by the nose, as asses are, by critics who have reasons of their own for not putting their thumbs down on such incompetency. That's the word, sir, Chris, my boy, that's the word--incompetency. But wait-till I come out; wait till an author that I have in my eye-- yes, sir, I have him; I know him, and he believes in me, and I believe in him; we fight a common cause--wait till he has finished the piece he is writing for me, a piece representing two passions; one is not enough for Turk West. When that piece is performed at one of the West-end theatres, with Turk West in the leading character, you may