"Mores, Cowleys, Merrys, Whitehead, Greathead, Jephson,

"At least acknowledg'd as an humble step-son, "I may inherit, from the tragic dame,

"A child's provision of productive fame.

"'Twas thought, of old, to wear the comic mask,
"Of human talent was the hardest task:
"Mere idle talk, like other silly saws,

"Our foolish fore-fathers received as laws!

Men, women, children, comedy can write-
"As lying easy, not as gainful, quite.
"For plot and character 'tis now no time;
"Sermons must mix with tricks of pantomime.
"Does Comedy (her fav'rite boast of old)
"The faithful mirror up to Nature hold?
"No-she delights inverted things to show;
"Degrades the noble, and exalts the low.
"Refracted all, thro' mediums false display'd,
"She bids mankind appear in masquerade.
""Tis easier far to break than follow rules;
"Nor hard to copy lunatics and fools.
"Amidst the throng I too may force my way,
"And snatch a portion of the comic bay.
"Tho' rabbi Cumberland, with stern regard,
"Advance to circumcise the rival bard;

"Keeffe, Inchbald, Richardson, no rivals mean;
"Cobb, Colman, Reynolds, Morton, fill the scene:
"Yet such things are, and haply I may be,
"The favorite child of Notoriety.

"The managers will sure that aid afford,
"Delusive hope had promis'd from a Lord;
"And give my weary age some calm retreat,

"Where sick of rhyming, I may laugh and eat.”

360

370

380

390

A month sequester'd, at the task I toil;
Arrange my incidents, refine my style.-
"What, a whole month (I hear Laberius say,)
"Within the fortnight I produce a play.
"Correctness, care, and study, will but waste
"The fiery flash that hits the public taste.—
"Nature is old, and common sense is tame;
"The new, the bold, our play-house Critics claim.
"High-minded taylors in my scenes appear,
"Benignant Bailiffs, with the swindling Peer,
"Th' unrighteous Judge, the profligate Divine;
"While Jews and Turks, with Christian virtues shine.
"And when a thunder of applause I wish,
"A table I o'erturn, or break a dish *.

"Enjoy thy laurels, play-wright.-I pursue
"My path to Nature, and to Horace true."
My play compleat, in visions, I behold
The flutt'ring sibyl leaves that turn to gold;
Transcribe the work, and seek, with eager feet,
The proud purveyors for the public treat.
Ah fool, to think my poor plebeian pen
Should win the notice of such mighty men!
Despotic H, K― unpolite-

Himself a Muse !—Oh, most advent'rous wight!
What errantry the giants can engage,

400

That frowning guard th' approaches to the stage? 410 Soon as the tiny horn invades their ear,

The champions on the bridge of glass appear.

"Dare you, to hope the notice of the town †, "Yourself, your manners, and your muse unknown?

See the Dramatist.

+ Speech of Dramagorgon, the giant, to the knight of the quill

"Stranger, alike, to templars, beaux, and cits,
"To reading clubs, and coteries of wits,
"What Poet's corner has thy pen supplied?
"What prologue of probation hast thou tried?

66

Now, hear thy doom, unhallow'd wretch, and weak,

"Our rest imperial thou hast dar'd to break.- 420 "Th' oblivious drawer is gaping for thy lays, "The silent limbo of neglected plays.

"There shall they lie for weary mouths and years, "While thy vain bosom throbs with hopes and fears. "Thence, late return, unhonour'd, and unread, "Thy drama spurn'd, thine appetite unfed."Nor is this all-fair Cowley's page arraigns*, Perfidious managers of pilfer'd strains. And Papendick + bewails his labour lost, His Stranger rifled by theatric host.

Thus, by the despots of the stage expell'd, Unhousell'd, unanointed, unannell'dBesotted with the lust of gold and fame, I turn to tyrants with another name. "The Booksellers (I said) that liberal train, "Will kindly nurse the bantlings of my brain; Infuse their golden opiates, and assuage "The pangs inflicted by the court and stage. "To my glad eyes let Pater-noster-row,

430

"Or Paul's Church-yard, the great Mecenas show, 440

* See Mrs. Cowley's preface, in which she complains bitterly of the manager.

A gentleman, who, while he was resident in Vienna, procured a copy of the Stranger, and made a translation of it before the play had reached England. He put his translation into the hands of the manager,-but for details consult the Reviews-head Stranger.

"Who feeds proud Science in her march sublime, "And mortar brings to build the lofty rhyme. "When Whatman's paper, work'd in Bulmer's press, "Presents my first-boin in a christ'ning dress; "With puffs and pap, by the Reviewers fed, "The tetchy babe may grow, and earn it's bread; "And goody Stockdale help my child to hop, "Ay, by the rood, and waddle round the shop. "With daily march thro' Bond-street as I tend, "The wishful glance I reverential bend, "Where, magisterial, at their counters sit "Great Burghers in the commonwealth of wit. "No more my foundlings, ragged and deform, "In paper blue, shall bide the pelting storm; "These good and goodly men shall take them in; "And cover give them with a polish'd skin; "Their naked limbs, compassionate, enfold, "In Moorish finery of green and gold."

-

450

How childish Fancy roam'd from bad to worse! What, Booksellers recruit my famish'd purse! This deals in politics, and not in rhymes.Another asks some touches at the times.This, never meddles with the tragic vein.That, fears your Muse may touch upon th' obscene.This, deals with Kirk and Democrates alone. That, is devoted to the Church and Throne. For patriot cares Dick Philips draws his breathNicholls is all for Anecdote and Death. Tom Payne is sacred to th' illustrious deadThe Muse's friend with dying Dodsley fled. Scar'd by these porters at the door of fame, To live on verses, I no longer aim.

* Milton's Lycidas, « build the lofty rhyme.”

470

Like virtue, rhyming is its own reward:
And Gods, and Printers scorn the hungry bard.
When noble Peers and titled Ladies rhyme,
Sweet as their numbers if the guineas chime,
The publisher expands his ready hand;
And press and shop are both at their command.-
Then Hampden fair appears, and Burrell bright,
On paper, like the writers, sleek and white.
Carlisle, in Turkey bound, with gold imbost,
May show the vein of Howards is not lost.
The book superbly bound, is gratis giv'n;
And all applaud the favorite of Heav'n.
But I-

-Oh happy bards of Greece and Rome!
They rose, superior to the oblivious doom.
They hir'd his pulpit from an Auctioneer,
And roar'd their poems in the public ear.
In vain the Sosii might their fame oppose,
And Janus vainly with Vertumnus close ;
In vain, withhold the pumice and the shelf,-
A poet, then, might publish for himself.

I know the wonders Katterfelto wrought,
How Graham lectur'd and how Thelwall taught;
A croud of honest gulls unfailing pay
The nonsense, and impostors of the day.
"Ye Printers then, and Managers adieu-

480

490

"Come friends of Charlatans; I'll write for you;

"Rais'd on a tub, importunate and loud,

"With Quacks and Methodists divide the croud; 500 "There rant in tragedy, in lyric rave;

"Or sing the wonders of Dom Daniel cave;

"Distribute samples of heroic song,

"Where confluent streets unite the strolling throng.

"Here shall my Muse no hated rival fear,

"Except-a bruising match, or dancing bear.