were to rise from the dead, he could not act _Hamlet_ alone. There must be generals, colonels, commanding officers, and subalterns; but what were the private soldiers to do? Many had mistaken their own talents, and had been driven in early youth to try the stage, to which they were not competent. He would know what to say to the poet and to the artist. He would say that it was foolish, and he would recommend to the poet to become a scribe, and the artist to paint sign-posts (_Loud laughter._) But he could not send the player adrift; for if he could not play _Hamlet_, he must play _Guildenstern_. Where there were many labourers, wages must be low, and no man in such a situation could decently support a wife and family, and save something of his income for old age. What was this man to do in latter life? Were they to cast him off like an old hinge, or a piece of useless machinery, which had done its work? To a person who had contributed to our amusement, that would be unkind, ungrateful, and unchristian. His wants were not of his own making, but arose from the natural sources of sickness and old age. It could not be denied that there was one class of sufferers to whom no imprudence could be ascribed, except on first entering on the profession. After putting his hand to the dramatic plough, he could not draw back, but must continue at it, and toil, till death released him; or charity, by its milder assistance, stepped in to render that want more tolerable. He had little more to say, except that he sincerely hoped that the collection to-day, from the number of respectable gentlemen present, would meet the views entertained by the patrons. He hoped it would do so. They should not be disheartened. Though they could not do a great deal, they might do something. They had this consolation, that every thing they parted with from their superfluity would do some good. They would sleep the better themselves when they had been the means of giving sleep to others. It was ungrateful and unkind that those who had sacrificed their youth to our amusement should not receive the reward due to them, but should be reduced to hard fare in their old age. They could not think of poor Falstaff going to bed without his cup of sack, or Macbeth fed on bones as marrowless as those of Banquo. (_Loud cheers and laughter._) As he believed that they were all as fond of the dramatic art as he was in his younger days, he would propose that they should drink “The Theatrical Fund,” with three times three. Mr. MACKAY rose on behalf of his brethren, to return their thanks for the toast just drank.