Tho' Color's out of fashion, Can blush and be fincere, I'd toaft her in a bumper, If all the belles were here: What tho' no diamonds fparkle About her neck and waift, With The following having appear'd defective, and very much curtailed, in the Papers, and a certain Monthly Collection, we thought proper to give our Readers a perfect Copy of it. An Ode to Garrick, upon The Talk of the Town. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I fhould live till I were married. N Much ado about Nothing. no; the left-hand box, in'blue; There! don't you fee her?-See ber! Who? Nay, hang me if I tell. There's Garrick in the musick-box! But tell me, David, is it true? What! fairly taken in for life! O fie upon you, Ranger. The clergy too have joir'd the chat; The ladies pale and out of breath, O David! listen to my lay! For tongues, you know, will run. "And pray, what other news d'ye hear? "Marry'd!-But don't you think, my dear, "He's growing out of fashion? "People may fancy what they will, "But Quin's the only actor fill, To touch the tender passion. "Nay, madam, did you mind, last night, "His Archer? not a line on't right! "I thought I heard fome hiffes. "Good God! if Billy Mills, thought I, "Or Billy Havard would but try, "They'd beat him all to pieces. "Twas prudent tho' to drop his Bayes"And (entre nous) Old Cibber says, "He hopes he'll give up Richard. But then it tickles me to fee, "In Haflings, fuch a fhrimp as he "Attempt to ravish Prichard. "The fellow pleas'd me well enough "In-what d'ye call it? Hoadly's stuff; "There's fomething there like "nature: "Juft fo, in life, he runs about, "But hurts no mortal creature. "And then there's Belmont, to be furo"Oho! my gentle Neddy Moore ! "How does my good lord mayor? "And have you left Cheapfide, my dear? "And will you write again next year, "To thew your fav'rite player ? "But Merope, we own, is fine, "Eumenes charms in ev'ry line; "How prettily he vapours! "So gay his drefs, fo young his look, "One wou'd have fworn 'twas Mr. Cook, "Or Matthews cutting capers." Thus, David, will the ladies flout, And councils hold at ev'ry rout, To alter all your plays; Yates fhall be Benedici next year, Two parts they readily allow And Fribble all the night. But tell me, fair ones, is it fo ?- And then there's hope for all. Un-nerve you for the stage. Take her; you can't do better; A pox upon the tatling town!The fops that join to cry you down Would give their ears to get her. Then if her heart be good and kind, (And fure that face befpeaks a mind As foft as woman's can be) You'll grow as conftant as a dove, And taste the purer fweets of love, Unvifited by Ranby. *This lady bas already beer fo very good as to exbibit herself in that character. † Julius Cæfar. Engravd for yLondon Magazine, 1749. CARRICK MADEMOISELLE Printed for R. Baldwin junat Rose in Pater Noster Row. VIOLI NOW you, mafter Fool, why you ne fay nothing about de fpring, de bloom, de verdure, de flower, de tout enrichement de nature, de glorious finee fhow dat it makee all about us? Have you forgettee de Walbam Green for de foolish nonfenfe, de politique, de politeffe, and de puzzle us? SE EE when de orient fun begins to rife, trade; Wid eager joy de wife embrace each hour, So me de lover of de fparkling race, with fire. De lemon here, de orange dere fupreme, Lights, fhades, and colours, all confent to air, And in one bright confufion feem to glow. Politicks no more amufe de noisy mob, ton. De Juno's grace, de Venus' warmer fire, shine, All own me dere fupreme, me conftitute [brings, What pleasure calm repofe to mortals And be no more de fcribbler and de Fool. From de Walham Green, |