Error Is Ever Talkative.

Processions, Cavalcades, And All That Fund Of Gay Frippery, Furnished Out By Tailors, Barbers, And Tire-women, Mechanically Influence The Mind Into Veneration; An Emperor In His Nightcap Would Not Meet With Half The Respect Of An Emperor With A Crown.

But Times Are Alter'd; Trade's Unfeeling Train Usurp The Land, And Dispossess The Swain; Along The Lawn, Where Scatter'd Hamlets Rose, Unwieldy Wealth And Cumbrous Pomp Repose.

There Is One Way By Which A Strolling Player May Be Ever Secure Of Success; That Is, In Our Theatrical Way Of Expressing It, To Make A Great Deal Of The Character. To Speak And Act As In Common Life Is Not Playing, Nor Is It What People Come To See; Natural Speaking, Like Sweet Wine, Runs Glibly Over The Palate And Scarcely Leaves Any Taste Behind It; But Being High In A Part Resembles Vinegar, Which Grates Upon The Taste, And One Feels It While He Is Drinking.

In My Time, The Follies Of The Town Crept Slowly Among Us, But Now They Travel Faster Than A Stagecoach.

The Dog, To Gain Some Private Ends, Went Mad, And Bit The Man.