That tale, Williams went and told in the green-room, where he waited for Quin, who came off at the end of two scenes more, after uttering the word "death." It was what he brought, without meaning it, to the irascible Welshman, who attacked him on the not unreasonable ground that Quin had rendered him ridiculous in the eyes of the audience; and he demanded the satisfaction which gentlemen who wore swords were in the habit of giving to each other. Quin treated the affair as a mere joke, but the Welsh actor would not be soothed. After the play, he lay in wait for the offender in the Covent Garden Piazza, where much malapert blood was often spilt. There Quin could not refuse to defend himself, however ill-disposed he was to accept the combat, and after a few passes, Williams lay lifeless on the flag-stones, and Quin was arrested by the watch. Ultimately, he was absolved from blame, and no further harm came of it than the lasting regret of having shed the blood of a fellow-creature. At a later period, Quin was well-nigh slaying a more ignoble foe than Williams, namely, Theophilus Cibber, whose scoundrelly conduct towards his beautiful and accomplished wife, Quin alluded to, under a very forcible epithet applied to her husband. Out of this incident arose a quarrel, and swords were again drawn in the Piazza, where Quin and Cibber slashed each other across the arm and fingers, till they were parted by the bystanders. In 1732, Quin, with the company from the "Fields," established himself in the new theatre in Covent Garden, whence, after two seasons, he passed to Drury Lane, where he continued till 1741; after which, with some intervals, he again enrolled himself at the "Garden," where he remained till he quietly withdrew, in 1751. Of his rivalry with Garrick, I have already said something. If he was vanquished in that contest, he was not humiliated, though I think he was a little humbled in spirit. His great merit is, nevertheless, incontestable. His Cato and Brutus were good; he was excellent in Henry VIII., Volpone, Glo'ster, Apemantus, Ventidius, the Old Batchelor, and "all the Falstaffs." He was happy only in a few speeches of Pierre, especially, "I could have hugged the greasy rogues, they pleased me so!" and his execration of the senate. His Plain Dealer is commended, and the soliloquies of Zanga are eulogised. His Macheath and some other operatic parts, he played and sung extremely well. His failures were Macbeth, Othello, Richard, Lear, Chamont, and Young Bevil. His continuing to play these in opposition to Garrick and Barry censures his judgment. Davies says, he often gave true weight and dignity to sentiment by a well-regulated tone of voice, judicious elocution, and easy deportment. The expression of the tender, as well as of the violent, emotions of the heart was beyond his reach. The plain and the familiar rather than the striking and the vigorous, became him whose action was either forced or languid, and whose movements were