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Let it, to disappoint each future aim,
The morning came, nor find I that the Sun, Live without sex, and die without a name !
As he on other great events hath done, Cold-blooded critics, by enervate sires
Put on a brighter robe than what he wore Scarce hammer'd out, when Nature's feeble fires To go his journey in the day before. Glimmer'd their last; whose sluggish blood, half Full in the centre of a spacious plain, froze,
On plan entirely new, where nothing rain, Creeps lab'ring through the veins; whose heart Nothing magnificent appear'd, but Art ne'er glows
With decent modesty perform'd her part, With fancy-kindled heat ;-a servile race,
Rose a tribunal: from no other court Who in mere want of fault, all merit place ; It borrow'd ornament, or sought support: Who blind obedience pay to ancient schools, No juries here were pack'd to kill or clear, Bigots to Greece, and slaves to musty rules; No bribes were taken, nor oaths broken here; With solemn consequence declar'd that none No gownmen, partial to a client's cause, Could judge that cause but Sophocles alone. To their own purpose tun'd the pliant laws, Dupes to their fancied excellence, the crowd, Each judge was true and steady to his trust, Obsequious to the sacred dictate, bow'd.
As Mansfield wise, and as old Foster * just. When, from amidst the throng, a youth stood forth, In the first seat, in robe of various dyes, Unknown his person, not unknown his worth ; A noble wildness flashing from his eyes, His look bespoke applause ; alone he stood, Sat Shakspeare. In one hand a wand he bore, Alone he stemm'd the mighty critic flood.
For mighty wonders fam'd in days of yore; He talk'd of ancients, as the man became
The other held a globe, which to his will Who priz'd our own, but envied not their fame; Obedient turn'd, and own'd the master's skill: With noble rev'rence spoke of Greece and Rome, Things of the noblest kind his genius drew, And scorn'd to tear the laurel from the tomb. And look'd through Nature at a single view:
“ But more than just to other countries grown, A loose he gave to his unbounded soul, Must we turn base apostates to our own ?
And taught new lands to rise, new seas to roll; Where do these words of Greece and Rome excel, Call’d into being scenes unknown before, That England may not please the ear as well ? And, passing Nature's bounds, was something met What mighty magic 's in the place or air,
Next Jonson sat, in ancient learning train'd, That all perfection needs must centre there? His rigid judgment Fancy's flights restrain'd, In states, let strangers blindly be preferr'd; Correctly prun'd each wild luxuriant thought, In state of letters, merit should be heard.
Mark'd out her course, nor spar'd a glorious fault Genius is of no country, her pure ray
The book of man he read with nicest art,
And ransack'd all the secrets of the heart;
And trac'd each passion to its proper source; May not (to give a pleasing fancy scope,
Then strongly mark'd, in liveliest colours drew, And cheer a patriot heart with patriot hope) And brought each foible forth to public view. May not some great extensive genius raise
The coxcomb felt a lash in ev'ry word, The name of Britain 'bove Athenian praise ; And fools, hung out, their brother fools deterr’d. And, whilst brave thirst of fame his bosom warms, His comic humour kept the world in awe, Make England great in letters as in arms ? And Laughter frightend Folly more than Lav.
there hath — and Shakspeare's Muse But, hark !—The trumpet sounds, the crowd give aspires
way, Beyond the reach of Greece : with natives fires And the procession comes in just array. Mounting aloft, he wings his daring flight,
Now should I, in some sweet poetic line, Whilst Sophocles below stands trembling at his Offer up incense at Apollo's shrine ; height.
Invoke the Muse to quit her calm abode, • Why should we then abroad for judges roam, And waken mem'ry with a sleeping ode. When abler judges we may find at home?
For how should mortal man, in mortal verse, Happy in tragic and in comic pow'rs,
Their titles, merits, or their names rehearse? Have we not Shakspeare ? - Is not Jonson ours? But give, kind Dullness, memory and rhyme, For them, your nat'ral judges, Britons, vote; We'll put off Genius till another time. They 'll judge like Britons, who like Britons wrote." First, Order came,-with solemn step, and slow,
He said, and conquer'd - Sense resum'd hersway, In measur'd time his feet were taught to go. And disappointed pedants stalk'd away.
Behind, from time to time, he cast his eye,
Thus, when the aged friends of Job stood mute,
Next snuffer, sweeper, shifter, soldier, mute :
Legions of angels all in white advance; Confuted Falsehood, and disabled Pride,
Furies, all fire, come forward in a dance ; Whilst baffled Age stood snarling at his side. Pantomime figures then are brought to view, The day of trial 's fix'd, nor any fear
Fools hand in hand with fools go two by two Lest day of trial should be put off here. Causes but seldom for delay can call
* Sir Michael Foster, one of the judges of the In courts where forms are few, fees none at all.
drum, trumpet, hautboy, fiddle, finde:
lext came the treasurer of either house ;
His walk of parts he fatally misplac'd, One with full purse, t' other with not a sous. And inclination fondly took for taste ; jehind, a group of figures awe create,
Hence hath the town so often seen display'd et off with all th' impertinence of state ;
Beau in burlesque, high life in masquerade. y lace and feather consecrate to fame,
But when bold wits, not such as patch up plays, rpletive kings, and queens without a name. Cold and correct, in these insipid days,
Here Havard, all serene, in the same strains, Some comic character, strong featur'd, urge
Where modest Judgment her decree suspends, Thich could not feel emotions, nor impart. And for a time, nor censures, nor commends, - 'ith him came mighty Davies. On my life,
Where critics can't deterinine on the spot hat Davies hath a very pretty wife :
Whether it is in Nature found or not, atesman all over !—In plots famous grown! There Woodward safely shall his pow'rs exert, e mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone. Nor fail of favour where he shows desert, Next Holland came. With truly tragic stalk, Hence he in Bobadil such praises bore, e creeps, he flies. — A hero should not walk. Such worthy praises, Kitely scarce had more. s if with Heav'n he warr’d, his eager eyes
By turns transform'd into all kind of shapes, anted their batteries against the skies ;
Constant to none, Foote laughs, cries, struts, and ttitude, action, air, pause, start, sigh, groan,
scrapes : e borrow'd, and made use of as his own.
Now in the centre, now in van or rear, , fortune thrown on any other stage,
The Proteus shifts, bawd, parson, auctioneer. e might, perhaps, have pleas'd an easy age;
His strokes of humour, and his bursts of sport, it now appears a copy, and no more,
Are all contain'd in this one word, Distort. something better we have seen before.
Doth a man stutter, look a-squint, or halt? le actor who would build a solid fame,
Mimics draw humour out of Nature's fault, ust Imitation's servile arts disclaim ;
With personal defects their mirth adorn, it from himself, on his own bottom stand; And hang misfortunes out to public scorn. ate e'en Garrick thus at second-hand.
E'en I, whom Nature cast in hideous mould, Behind came King. Bred up in modest lore, Whom, having made, she trembled to behold, shful and young he sought Hibernia's shore; Beneath the load of mimicry may groan, bernia, fam'd, 'bove ev'ry other grace,
And find that Nature's errours are my own. ir matchless intrepidity of face.
Shadows behind of Foote and Woodward came; om her his features caught the gen'rous flame, Wilkinson this, Obrien was that name. id bid defiance to all sense of shame.
Strange to relate, but wonderfully true, itor'd by her all rivals to surpass,
That even shadows have their shadows too ! Congst Drury's sons he comes, and shines in Brass. With not a single comic pow'r endu'd, Lo Yates ! — Without the least finesse of art The first a mere mere mimic's mimic stood; e gets applause - I wish he'd get his part. The last by Nature form’d to please, who shows, hen hot Impatience is in full career,
In Jonson's Stephen, which way Genius grows; ow vilely “ Hark'e! Hark'e !" grates the ear. Self quite put off, affects, with too much art, hen active Fancy from the brain is sent,
To put on Woodward in each mangled part ; id stands on tip-toe for some wish'd event, Adopts his shrug, his wink, his stare ; nay, more, late those careless blunders which recall
His voice, and croaks; for Woodward croak'd bespended sense, and prove it fiction all.
fore. In characters of low and vulgar mould,
When a dull copier simple grace neglects, here Nature's coarsest features we behold, And rests his imitation in defects, here, destitute of ev'ry decent grace,
We readily forgive; but such vile arts imanner'd jests are blurted in your face,
Are double guilt in men of real parts. lere Yates with justice strict attention draws, By Nature form'd in her perversest mood, its truly from himself, and gains applause. With no one requisite of art endu'd, it when to please himself, or charm his wife, Next Jackson came. - Observe that settled glare, e aims at something in politer life,
Which better speaks a puppet than a player : hen, blindly thwarting Nature's stubborn plan, List to that voice — did ever Discord hear e treads the stage, by way of gentleman,
Sounds so well fitted to her untun'd ear? le clown, who no one touch of breeding knows, When, to enforce some very tender part, xoks like Tom Errand dress'd in Clincher's clothes. The right-hand sleeps by instinct on the heart; und of his dress, fond of his person grown, His soul, of every other thought bereft, tugh'd at by all, and to himself unknown Is anxious only where to place the left ; om side to side he struts, he smiles, he prates, He sobs and pants to soothe his weeping spouse, nd seems to wonder what's become of Yates. To soothe his weeping mother, turns and bows. Woodward, endow'd with various tricks of face, Awkward, embarrass'd, stiff, without the skill reat master in the science of grimace,
Of moving gracefully, or standing still, om Ireland ventures, fav'rite of the town, One leg, as if suspicious of his brother, ir'd by the pleasing prospect of renown;
Desirous seems to run away from t'other. speaking Harlequin, made up of whim,
Some errours, handed down from age to age, e twists, he twines, he tortures ev'ry limb, Plead custom's force, and still possess the stage. ays to the eye with a mere monkey's art,
That 's vile — Should we a parent's faults adore, nd leaves to sense the conquest of the heart. And err, because our fathers err'd before : e laugh indeed, but on reflection's birth,
If, inattentive to the author's mind, e wonder at ourselves, and curse our mirth. Some actors made the jest they could not find ;
If by low tricks they marr'd fair Nature's mien, | For who, like Ackman, can with humour plex And blurr'd the graces of the simple scene; Who can, like Packer, charm with sprightly ease Shall we, if reason rightly is employ'd,
Higher than all the rest, see Bransby strut: Not see their faults, or seeing not avoid ?
A mighty Gulliver in Lilliput ! When Falstaff stands detected in a lie,
Ludicrous Nature ! which at once could show Why, without meaning, rolls Love's glassy eye? A man so very high, so very low. Why ? - There's no cause -- at least no cause we If I forget thee, Blakes, or if I say know
Aught hurtful, may I never see thee play. It was the fashion twenty years ago.
Let critics, with a supercilious air, Fashion, a word which knaves and fools may use Decry thy various merit, and declare Their knavery and folly to excuse.
Frenchman is still at top; - but scorn that rage To copy beauties, forfeits all pretence
Which, in attacking thee, attacks the age. To fame – to copy faults, is want of sense. French follies, universally embraca,
Yet (though in some particulars he fails, At once provoke our mirth, and form our taste. Some few particulars, where mode prevails)
Long, from a nation ever hardly us'd, If in these hallow'd times, when sober, sad, At random censur'd, wantonly abus'd, All gentlemen are melancholy mad,
Have Britons drawn their sport, with partial ries When 'tis not deem'd so great a crime by half Form'd gen'ral notions from the rascal fev; To violate a vestal, as to laugh,
Condemn'd a people, as for vices known, Rude Mirth may hope presumptuous to engage Which, from their country banish'd, seek our gr. An act of toleration for the stage,
At length, howe'er, the slavish chain is broke, And courtiers will, like reasonable creatures, And Sense, awaken'd, scorns her ancient yoke. Suspend vain fashion, and unscrew their features, Taught by thee, Moody, we now learn to raise Old Falstaff, play'd by Love, shall please once more, Mirth from their foibles; from their virtues, pras And humour set the audience in a roar,
Next came the legion, which our Summer Bares. Actors I 've seen, and of no vulgar name, From alleys, here and there, contriv'd to raise, Who, being from one part possess'd of fame, Flush'd with vast hopes, and certain to succeed Whether they are to laugh, cry, whine, or bawl, With wits who cannot write, and scarce can read Still introduce that fav’rite part in all.
Vet'rans no more support the rotten cause, Here, Love, be cautious — ne'er be thou betray'd No more from Elliot's worth they reap applaus To call in that wag Falstaff's dangerous aid ; Each on himself determines to rely, Like Goths of old, howe'er he seems a friend, Be Yates disbanded, and let Elliot fly, He 'll seize that throne, you wish him to defend. Never did play’rs so well an author fit, In a peculiar mould by Humour cast,
To Nature dead, and foes declar'd to Wit For Falstaff fram'd - Himself, the first and last, So loud each tongue, so empty was each head, He stands aloof from all maintains his state, So much they talk'd, so very little said, And scorns, like Scotsmen, to assimilate.
So wondrous dull, and yet so wondrous vain, Vain all disguise — too plain we see the trick, At once so willing, and unfit to reign, Though the Knight wears the weeds of Dominic. That Reason swore, nor would the oath recall, And Boniface, disgrac'd, betrays the smack, Their mighty master's soul inform'd them all In Anno Domini, of Falstaff's sack.
As one with various disappointments sad, Arms cross'd, brows bent, eyes fix’d, feet march- Whom Dullness only kept from being mad, ing slow,
Apart from all the rest great Murphy came A band of malecontents with spleen o'erflow; Common to fools and wits, the rage of fame. Wrapt in Conceit's impenetrable fog,
What though the sons of Nonsense hail him sit, Which Pride, like Phæbus, draws from ev'ry bog, i Auditor, AUTHOR, MANAGER, and SQUIRE, They curse the managers, and curse the town, His restless soul's ambition stops not there, Whose partial favour keeps such merit down. To make his triumphs perfect, dub lim PLATEL.
But if some man, more hardy than the rest, In person tall, a figure forın'd to please; Should dare attack these gnatlings in their nest; If symmetry could charm, depriv'd of ease; At once they rise with impotence of rage,
When motionless he stands, we all approve; Whet their small stings, and buzz about the stage. What pity 'tis the thing was made to move. “ 'Tis breach of privilege ! - Shall any dare
His voice, in one dull, deep, un varied sound, To arm satiric truth against a player ?
Seems to break forth from caverns under ground. Prescriptive rights we plead time out of mind; From hollow chest the low sepulchral note Actors, unlash'd themselves, may lash mankind." Unwilling heaves, and struggles in his throat. What! shall Opinion then, of nature free
Could authors butcher'd give an actor grade, And lib'ral as the vagrant air, agree
All must to him resign the foremost place. To rust in chains like these, impos'd by things When he attempts, in some one fav’rite part, Which, less than nothing, ape the pride of kings? Tu ape the feelings of a manly heart, No- though half-poets with half-players join His honest features the disguise defy, To curse the freedom of each honest line;
And his face loudly gives his tongue the lie. Though rage and malice dim their faded cheek ; Still in extremes, he knows no happy mean, What the Muse freely thinks, she 'll freely speak. Or raving mad, or stupidly serene. With just disdain of ev'ry paltry sneer,
In cold-wrought scenes the lifeless actor flags Stranger alike to flattery and fear,
In passion, tears the passion into rags. In purpose fix'd, and to herself a rule,
Can none remember? - Yes - I know all must Public contempt shall wait the public fool.
When in the Moor he ground his teeth to dust, Austin would always glisten in French silks, When o'er the stage he Folly's standard bure, Ackman would Norris be, and Packer Wilks. Whilst Common-Šense stood trembling at the door
How few are found with real talents bless'd, Who aim'd at wit, though, levell’d in the dark, fewer with Nature's gifts contented rest,
The random arrow seldom hit the mark, Man from his sphere eccentric starts astray; At Islington, all by the placid stream All hunt for fame ; but most mistake the way. Where city swains in lap of Dullness dream, Bred at St. Omer's to the shuffling trade,
Where, quiet as her strains their strains do flow, The hopeful youth a Jesuit might have made, That all the patron by the bards may know, Vith various readings stor'd his empty skull, Secret as night, with Rolt's experienc'd aid, earn'd without sense, and venerably dull; The plan of future operations laid, Ir, at some banker's desk, like many more, Projected schemes the summer months to cheer, 'ontent to tell that two and two make four, And spin out happy folly through the year. lis name had stood in CITY ANNALS fair,
But think not, though these dastard chiefs are fled, ind prudent Dullness mark'd him for a mayor. That Covent Garden troops shall want a head :
What then could tempt thee, in a critic age, Harlequin comes their chief! -See from afar, uch blooming hopes to forfeit on a stage ? The hero seated in fantastic car ! ould it be worth thy wondrous waste of pains Wedded to Novelty, his only arms o publish to the world thy lack of brains ? Are wooden swords, wands, talismans, and charms; r might not Reason e'en to thee have shown On one side Folly sits, by some call'd Fun, hy greatest praise had been to live unknown? And on the other, his arch-patron, Lun. et let not vanity, like thine, despair :
Behind, for liberty a-thirst in vain, ortune makes Folly her peculiar care.
Sense, helpless captive, drags the galling chain. A vacant throne high plac'd in Smithfield view, Six rude mis-shapen beasts the chariot draw, • sacred Dullness and her first-born due,
Whom Reason loaths, and Nature never saw ; hither with haste in happy hour repair,
Monsters, with tails of ice, and heads of fire; zy birthright claim, nor fear a rival there. Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire. uter himself shall own thy juster claim,
Each was bestrode by full as monstrous wight, nd venal Ledgers puff their Murphy's name, Giant, Dwarf, Genius, Elf, Hermaphrodite. hilst Vaughan or Dapper, call him which you The town, as usual, met him in full cry; will,
The town, as usual, knew no reason why. all blow the trumpet, and give out the bill. But Fashion so directs, and moderns raise There rule secure, from critics and from sense, On Fashion's mouldering base their transient praise. or once shall Genius rise to give offence;
Next, to the field a band of females draw ernal peace shall bless the happy shore,
Their force; for Britain owns no Salique law.. ad little factions break thy rest no more.
Just to their worth, we female rights admit, om Covent Garden crowds promiscuous go, Nor bar their claim to empire or to wit. hom the Muse knows not, nor desires to know. First, giggling, plotting chamber-maids arrive, trans they seem'd, but knew of arms no more Hoydens and romps, led on by gen'ral Clive. an if, till that time, arms they never bore: In spite of outward blemishes, she shone ke Westminster militia train’d to fight,
For humour fam'd, and humour all her own. ney scarcely knew the left hand from the right. Easy, as if at home, the stage shę trod, sham'd among such troops to show the head, Nor sought the critic's praise, nor feard his rod. jeir chiefs were scatter'd, and their heroes fled. Original in spirit and in ease, Sparks at his glass sat comfortably down She pleas'd by hiding all attempts to please. ) sep’rate frown from smile, and smile from frown; No comic actress ever yet could raise, aith, the genteel, the airy, and the smart, On Humour's base, more merit or more praise. aith was just gone to school to say his part; With all the native vigour of sixteen, 358 (a misfortune which we often meet)
Among the merry troop conspicuous seen, as fast asleep at dear Statira's feet;
See lively Pope advance in jig and trip, atira, with her hero to agree,
Corinna, Cherry, Honeycomb, and Snip. ood on her feet as fast asleep as he ;
Not without art, but yet to Nature true, acklin, who largely deals in half-form'd sounds, She charms the town with humour just, yet new. ho wantonly transgresses Nature's bounds, Cheer'd by her promise, we the less deplore hose acting 's hard, affected, and constrain'd, The fatal time when Clive shall be no more. 'hose features, as each other they disdain'd, Lo! Vincent comes — with simple grace array'd, t variance set, inflexible and coarse,
She laughs at paltry arts, and scorns parade. e'er know the workings of united force,
Nature through her is by reflection shown, e'er kindly soften to each other's aid,
Whilst Gay once more knows Polly for his own. or show the mingled pow'rs of light and shade, Talk not to me of diffidence and fear o longer for a thankless stage concern'd, I see it all, but must forgive it here. o worthier thoughts his mighty genius turn'd, Defects like these which modest terrours cause, larangu’d, gave lectures, made each simple elf From impudence itself extort applause. Imost as good a speaker as himself ;
Candour and Reason still take Virtue's part; Thilst the whole town, mad with mistaken zeal, We love e'en foibles in so good a heart. n awkward rage for elocution feel;
Let Tommy Arne, with usual pomp of style, Jull cits and grave divines his praise proclaim, Whose chief, whose only merit 's to compile, ind join with Sheridan's their Macklin's name; Who, meanly pilfering here and there a bit, buter, who never car'd a single pin
Deals music out as Murphy deals out wit, Vhether he left out nonsense, or put in,
Publish proposals, laws for taste prescribe,
And chant the praise of an Italian tribe ; A gentleman who published, at this juncture, a Let him reverse kind Nature's first decrees, oem entitled The Retort.
And teach e'en Brent a method not to please;
But never shall a truly British age
Struck with her grief, I catch the inadness too! Bear a vile race of eunuchs on the stage.
My brain turns round, the headless trunk I vies The boasted work 's call'd national in vain, The roof cracks, shakes, and falls ! - New baru If one Italian voice pollutes the strain.
rise, Where tyrants rule, and slaves with joy obey, And Reason buried in the ruin lies. Let slavish minstrels pour th' enervate lay;
Nobly disdainful of each slavish art, To Britons far more poble pleasures spring, She makes her first attack upon the heart: In native notes whilst Beard and Vincent sing. Pleas'd with the summons, it receives her laws, Might figure give a title unto fame,
And all is silence, sympathy, applause. What rival should with Yates dispute her claim? But when, by fond ambition drawn aside, But justice may not partial trophies raise,
Giddy with praise, and puff'd with female prid, Nor sink the actress in the woman's praise.
She quits the tragic scene, and, in pretence Still hand in hand her words and actions go, To comic merit, breaks down Nature's fence; And the heart feels more than the features show : I scarcely can believe my ears or eyes, For, through the regions of that beauteous face, Or find out Cibber through the dark disguise. We no variety of passions trace;
Pritchard, by Nature for the stage design'd, Dead to the soft emotions of the heart,
In person graceful, and in sense refin'd; No kindred softness can those eyes impart; Her art as much as Nature's friend became, The brow, still fix'd in Sorrow's sullen frame, Her voice as free from blemish as her fame, Void of distinction, marks all parts the same. Who knows so well in majesty to please,
What 's a fine person, or a beauteous face, Attemper'd with the graceful charms of ease ? Unless deportment gives them decent grace ? When Congreve's favour'd pantomime to gra, Bless'd with all other requisites to please,
She comes a captive queen of Moorish race; Some want the striking elegance of case;
When Love, Hate, Jealousy, Despair, and Rare The curious eye their awkward movement tires ;
With wildest tumults in her breast engage; They seem like puppets led about by wires. Still equal to herself is Zara seen; Others, like statues, in one posture still,
Her passions are the passions of a queen. Give great ideas of the work man's skill ;
When she to murder whets the timorous Thex, Wond'ring, his art we praise the more we view, I feel ambition rush through ev'ry vein ; And only grieve he gave not motion too.
Persuasion hangs upon her daring tongue, Weak of themselves
are what we beauties call, My heart grows fint, and ev'ry nerve 's new-stru It is the manner which gives strength to all.
In comedy — “ Nay there," cries Critie, * lute This teaches every beauty to unite,
Pritchard 's for comedy too fat and old. And brings them forward in the noblest light. Who can, with patience, bear the grey coquette, Happy in this, behold, amidst the throng,
Or force a lau with over-grown Julett? With transient gleam of grace, Hart sweeps along. Her speech, look, action, humour, all are just; If all the wonders of external grace,
But then, her age and figure give disgust." A person finely turn'd, a mould of face,
Are foibles then, and graces of the mind, Where, union rare, Expression's lively force In real life, to size, or age confin'd ? With Beauty's softest magic holds discourse, Do spirits flow, and is good-breeding plac'd Attract the eye; if feelings, void of art,
In any set circumference of waist ? Rouse the quick passions, and inflame the heart; As we grow old, doth affectation cease, If music, sweetly breathing from the tongue, Or gives not age new vigour to caprice? Captives the ear, Bride must not pass unsung. If in originals these things appear,
When fear, which rank ill-nature terms conceit, Why should we bar them in the copy here? By time and custom conquer'd, shall retreat ; The nice punctilio-mongers of this age, When judgment, tutor'd by experience sage, The grand minute reformers of the stage, Shall shoot abroad, and gather strength from age; Slaves to propriety of ev'ry kind, When Heav'n in mercy shall the stage release Some standard-measure for each part should find From the dull slumbers of a still-life piece; Which when the best of actors shall exceerd, When some stale flow'r, disgraceful to the walk, Let it devolve to one of smaller breed. Which long hath hung, though wither'd on the All actors too upon the back should bear stalk,
Certificate of birth,-time, when ;-place, where Shall kindly drop, then Bride shall make her way, For how can critics rightly fix their worth, And merit find a passage to the day;
Unless they know the minute of their birth? Brought into action, she at once shall raise An audience too, deceiv'd, may find too late Her own renown, and justify our praise.
That they have clapp'd an actor out of date. Form'd for the tragic scene, to grace the stage, Figure, I own, at first may give offence, With rival excellence of love and rage,
And harshly strike the eye's too curious sease; Mistress of each soft art, with matchless skill But when perfections of the mind break forth, To turn and wind the passions as she will; Humour's chaste sallies, judgment's solid wert To melt the heart with sympathetic woe,
When the pure genuine flame, by Nature taugts Awake the sigh, and teach the tear to flow ; Springs into sense, and ev'ry action's thought; To put on Frenzy's wild distracted glare,
Before such merit all objections fly; And freeze the soul with horrour and despair ; Pritchard's genteel, and Garrick's six feet higt With just desert enroll’d in endless fame,
Oft have I, Pritchard, seen thy wondrous still Conscious of worth superior, Cibber came. Confess'd thee great, but find thee greater still
. When poor Alicia’s madd’ning brains are rack’d, That worth, which shone in scatter'd rays before, And strongly imag'd griefs her mind distract : Collected now, breaks forth with double pow's.