If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good
play needs no epilogue.

If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good
play needs no epilogue.

Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a read more

Like a dull actor now,
I have forgot my part, and I am out,
Even to a full disgrace.

It's very hard! Oh, Dick, my boy,
It's very hard one can't enjoy
A little private spouting;
read more

It's very hard! Oh, Dick, my boy,
It's very hard one can't enjoy
A little private spouting;
But sure as Lear or Hamlet lives,
Up comes our master, Bounce! and gives
The tragic Muse a routing.

Acting is a nice childish profession - pretending you're someone else and at the same time selling yourself.

Acting is a nice childish profession - pretending you're someone else and at the same time selling yourself.

My only regret in the theatre is that I could never sit out front
and watch me.

My only regret in the theatre is that I could never sit out front
and watch me.

Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, read more

Farce follow'd Comedy, and reach'd her prime.
In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time;
Mad wag! who pardon'd none, nor spared the best,
And turn'd some very serious things to jest.
Nor church nor state escaped his public sneers,
Arms nor the gown, priests, lawyers, volunteers;
"Alas, poor Yorick!" now forever mute!
Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote.
We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes
Ape the swoln dialogue of kings and queens,
When "Chrononhotonthelogos must die,"
And Arthur struts in mimic majesty.

The best actors do not let the wheels show.

The best actors do not let the wheels show.

Acting is a nice childish profession - pretending you're someone else and, at the same time, selling yourself.

Acting is a nice childish profession - pretending you're someone else and, at the same time, selling yourself.

Like hungry guests, a sitting audience looks;
Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks.
The founder's read more

Like hungry guests, a sitting audience looks;
Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks.
The founder's you: the table is the place:
The carvers we: the prologue is the grace.
Each act, a course, each scene, a different dish,
Though we're in Lent, I doubt you're still for flesh.
Satire's the sauce, high-season'd, sharp and rough.
Kind masks and beaux, I hope you're pepperproof?
Wit is the wine; but 'tis so scarce the true
Poets, like vintners, balderdash and brew.
Your surly scenes, where rant and bloodshed join.
Are butcher's meat, a battle's sirloin:
Your scenes of love, so flowing, soft and chaste,
Are water-gruel without salt or taste.