"A
company of strolling comedians," writes the author of "The Road to
Ruin," who had himself strolled in early life, "is a small kingdom, of
which the manager is the monarch. Their code of laws seems to have
existed, with little variation, since the days of Shakespeare." Who
can doubt that Hogarth's famous picture told the truth, not only of
the painter's own time, but of the past and of the future? The poor
player followed a sordid and wearisome routine. He was constrained to
devote long hours to rehearsal and to the study of various parts,
provided always he could obtain a sight of the book of the play, for
the itinerant theatre afforded no copyist then to write neatly out
each actor's share in the dialogues and speeches. Night brought the
performance, and, for the player engaged as "utility," infinite change
of dress and "making-up" of his face to personate a variety of
characters. The company would, probably, be outnumbered by the
_dramatis personae_, in which case it would devolve upon the actor to
assume many parts in one play. Thus, supposing Hamlet to be announced
for representation, the stroller of inferior degree might be called
upon to appear as Francisco, afterwards as a lord-in-waiting in the
court scenes, then as Lucianus, "nephew to the king," then as one of
the grave-diggers, then as a lord again, or, it might be, Osric, the
fop, in the last act.
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