When charity begins to tread the stage?
When actors, who at best are hardly savers,
Will give a night of benefit to weavers ?
Stay-let me see, how finely will it sound!
Imprimis, From his grace* a hundred pound.
Peers, clergy, gentry, all are benefactors;
And then comes in the item of the actors.
Item, The actors freely give a day-
The poet had no more who made the play.
But whence this wond'rous charity in players?
They learn it not at sermons, or at prayers:
Under the rose, since here are none but friends,
(To own the truth) we have some private ends.
Since waiting-women, like exacting jades,
Hold up the prices of their old brocades;
We'll dress in manufactures made at home;
Equip our kings and generals at the Comb. †
We'll rig from Meath Street Egypt's haughty queen
And Antony shall court her in ratteen.
In blue shalloon shall Hannibal be clad,
And Scipio trail an Irish purple plaid.
In drugget drest, of thirteenpence a-yard,
See Philip's son amidst his Persian guard;
* Archbishop King.-F.
+ A street famous for woollen manufactures.-F.
ake all away,
e the play.
is friendship spring's
ayhouse kings;
came beginning';
nd spinning:
lliance fits,
poor as wits:
kers for the stage,
wn a page;
to the players,
yard of theirs.
ere is often less in
player's dressing,
BY DR DEI
Fœmineo generi t
THE Muses, whom the riches
Refuse to fling their shining g
The pencil clothes the nine in
And gives each colour to the
Fr above mortal dress the siste
de in their Indian robes, and
And shall two bards in consort
od fret these Muses with their
The player in mimic piety m
plore the Comb, and bid her
he arbitrary mob, in paltry rag
May curse the belles and chintz
et still the artist worm her silk
spin her thread of life in ser
The cotton plant, whom satire
bloom the favourite of these
e yours, ye fair, her fame from rails in charms, and glares ab r injured plant shall meet a l be the emblem of your inno Some bard, perhaps, whose la
'd the low prologue to retur
Fœmineo generi tribuantur.
THE Muses, whom the richest silks array,
Refuse to fling their shining gowns away;
The pencil clothes the nine in bright brocades,
And gives each colour to the pictured maids;
Far above mortal dress the sisters shine,
Pride in their Indian robes, and must be fine.
And shall two bards in consort rhyme and huff,
And fret these Muses with their playhouse stuff?
The player in mimic piety may storm,
Deplore the Comb, and bid her heroes arm:
The arbitrary mob, in paltry rage,
May curse the belles and chintzes of the age:
Yet still the artist worm her silk shall share,
And spin her thread of life in service of the fair.
The cotton plant, whom satire cannot blast,
Shall bloom the favourite of these realms, and last;
Like yours, ye fair, her fame from censure grows,
Prevails in charms, and glares above her foes:
Your injured plant shall meet a loud defence,
And be the emblem of your innocence.
Some bard, perhaps, whose landlord was a wea
Penn'd the low prologue to return a favour:
Own? s enough cuff.
in May,
rs appear so gay
s well as they?
the plaid appear,
a a chair!
would fret with stuff;
ing so rough?
at that bed,
with the silken thread,
the curious eye,
aintings of the sky!
milky ticking full;
of wool!
beings!) prone to fate, make their webs complete: heir promises receive; ch for what they give!
Yet so staunch, that it keeps Tis so crazy, the weather through it,
And you're forced every year it;
Tis so ugly, so useful, so big Tis so staunch, and so crazy, tle,
Daughter of the Earl of Droghe Rochfort, Esq.-F.
'Tis so old and so ugly, and yet so convenient, You're sometimes in pleasure, though often in pa in't,
'Tis so large you may lodge a few friends with ea
You may turn and stretch at your length if y please in't;
'Tis so little, the family live in a press in't,
And poor Lady Betty has scarce room to dress in 'Tis so cold in the winter, you can't bear to lie in And so hot in the summer, you're ready to fry in 'Tis so brittle 'twould scarce bear the weight o
Yet so staunch, that it keeps out a great deal of su 'Tis so crazy, the weather with ease beats qu through it,
And you're forced every year in some part to ren it;
'Tis so ugly, so useful, so big, and so little,
'Tis so staunch, and so crazy, so strong and so b tle,
*Daughter of the Earl of Drogheda, and married to Ge Rochfort, Esq.-F.
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