"It is impossible that any actor could, in person, bearing, action, and utterance, better fulfil your fair-ideal of the noble Moor. All the passages of the part evincing Will and Power are delivered after a manner to leave the satisfied listener no faculty except that of admiration. His bursts of passion are terrifically grand. There is no grimace,--no exaggeration. They are terrible in their downright earnestness and apparent truth. Nothing could be more heart-thrilling than the noble rage with which he delivered the well-known passage,-- 'I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapor of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love, For others' uses;' nothing more glorious than the burst in which he volleyed forth the following passage, suppressed by the barbarians of our theatres,-- 'Like to the Pontic Sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love, Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up.' Throughout the part, as he enacted it, there were several new readings, in the player's phrase. They were all good,--they all conveyed to us, who love Shakspeare, new ideas. Forrest, apart from his playing, is no common man. In many scenes of the play, in which it was the fashion to rant, Forrest contented himself with the appropriate display of dignified and quiet power. This was beyond praise." The following extract is from the notice in the John Bull: "It is where Iago first attempts to rouse the jealousy of Othello, and, having created the spark, succeeds in fanning it to a consuming fire, that Mr. Forrest may be said to have been truly great. Slowly he appeared to indulge the suspicion of his wife's infidelity; in silent agony the conviction seemed to be creeping upon him,--his iron sinews trembling with dreadful and conflicting emotions,--rapid as thought were his denunciations; and, with all the weakness of woman, he again relapsed into tenderness,--pain had a respite, and hope a prospect. Then came his fearful and startling challenge to Iago, ending,-- 'If thou dost slander her, and torture me, Never pray more: abandon all remorse; On horror's head horrors accumulate: Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amazed; For nothing canst thou to damnation add Greater than that.' "The almost savage energy with which this passage was delivered produced an indescribable effect. Three long and distinct rounds of applause testified how highly the audience was delighted with this master-effort; and the most prejudiced must have been convinced that they were witnessing the acting of no ordinary man." The critique in the Albion was a notable one: