This beautiful passage is extremely touching, and Mr. Forrest fully felt and adequately illustrated its pathos and its beauty." Another of the authorities in British journalism, whose title the writer cannot recover, wrote thus: "If Mr. Forrest is great in Othello, we do not hesitate to say he is much greater in Lear. Here the verisimilitude is perfect. From the moment of his entrance to the finely-portrayed death, every passion which rages in that brain--the love, the madness, the ambition, the despair--is given the more forcibly that it flashes through the feebleness of age. In that powerful scene where the bereaved monarch laments over his dead daughter, Mr. Forrest acted pre-eminently well. He bears in her lifeless body and makes such a moan over it as would force tears from a Stoic. None, we think, who heard him put the plaintive but powerful interrogatory,-- 'Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all?'-- followed by the bitter and melancholy reflection,-- 'O! thou wilt come no more, Never! never! never! never! never!' will ever forget the anguish depicted on Mr. Forrest's features, or the heart-piercing melancholy of his tones. Mr. Forrest evinced, throughout, a fine conception of the character. He did not surprise us by a burst of genius now and then. His performance was equable,--it was distinguished in every part by deep and intense feeling. The curse levelled against Goneril (one of the most fearful passages ever penned by man) was given with awful force. The last member of the speech-- 'That she may feel How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child!'-- was poured forth with an unrestrained but natural energy that acted like an electric shock on the audience; a momentary silence succeeded it; but immediately afterwards a simultaneous burst of applause attested the great triumph of the actor. His mad-scenes, when, delighting in a crown and sceptre of straw, Lear proclaims himself 'every inch a king,' were admirably conceived, and no less admirably acted. There was no straining after effect,--there was no grimacery. We saw before us the 'poor, weak, and despised old man,'--the 'more sinned against than sinning,'--reduced to a state of second childhood, and paying the too severe penalty which his folly and his credulity, in listening to the hyperboles of his elder daughters and rejecting the true filial affection of his youngest and once his most beloved child, exacted from him." It may be well, also, to quote what was said by the "London Times" of November 5th: