In his latest days, his powers of retort never failed him. He was in that closing season when a fop condoled with him on growing old, and asked what the actor would give to be as young as he was? "I would almost be content to be as foolish!" was Quin's reply.
Old Hippisley, who, from a candle-snuffer became a favourite low comedian, owed much of his power of exciting mirth to a queer expression in his distorted face, caused by a scar from a severe burn. Having some intention to put his son on the stage, he asked Quin's advice as to the preparatory measures. "Hippy," said Quin, "you had better begin by burning him."
Nobody bore with his sharp sayings more cheerfully than Mrs. Woffington. We all know his remark, when Margaret, coming off the stage as Sir Harry Wildair, declared that she believed one half the house thought she was a man. Less known is his comment when, on asking her why she had been to Bath, she answered saucily, "Oh, for mere wantonness!" whereon Quin retorted with, "And have you been cured of it?"
He was one of the few men who could stand a fall with Foote, and come off the better man. Foote, who could not endure a joke made on himself, broke friendship with Quin on account of such offence. Ultimately, they were reconciled; but even then Foote referred to the provocation. "Jemmy, you should not have said that I had but one shirt, and that I lay a-bed while it was washed!" "Sammy," replied Quin, "I never could have said so, for I never knew that you had a shirt to wash!"
In the roughest of Quin's jests there was no harm meant, and many of his jokes manifested the kindliness of his heart. Here is an obscure actor, Dick Winston, lying,—hungry, weary, and disengaged,—on a truckle bed, in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden. He had wilfully forfeited an old engagement, turned itinerant, starved, and had returned, only to find his old place occupied. He is on his back, in utter despair, as Mr. Quin enters, followed by a man carrying a decent suit of clothes; and the great actor hails him with a "Now, Dick, how is it you are not up and at rehearsal?" Quin had heard of his distress, got him restored to his employment, and took this way of announcing it. Winston dressed himself in a state of bewilderment; a new dress and a new engagement,—but no cash wherewith to obtain a breakfast!" Mr. Quin," said he, unhesitatingly, "what shall I do for a little ready money, till Saturday arrives?" "Nay!" replied Quin; "I have done all I can for you; but as for money, Dick, you must put your hand in your own pocket." Quin had put a £10 note there!
Again; when Ryan asked, in an emergency, for a loan, the answer from Quin was, that he had nothing to lend; but he had left Ryan £1000 in his will, and Ryan might have that, if he were inclined to cheat the government of the legacy duty!
Frederick, Prince of Wales, was not half such a practically good patron to Thomson, as James Quin was. When the bard was in distress, Quin gave him a supper at a tavern, for half of which the poet expected he would have to pay; but the player designed otherwise. "Mr. Thomson," said he, "I estimate the pleasure I have had in perusing your works at £100 at least; and you must allow me to settle that account, by presenting you with the money." What are the small or the great faults of this actor of "all the Falstaffs," when we find his virtues so practical and lively? In return, the minstrel has repaid the good deed with a guerdon of song. In the Castle of Indolence, he says:
"Here whilom ligg'd th' Aesopus of the age;
But, call'd by Fame, in soul ypricked deep,
A noble pride restored him to the stage,