THE
ROSCIAD
.
ROSCIUS
deceased
,
each
high
aspiring
play'r
Push'd
all
his
int'rest
for
the
vacant
chair
.
The
buskin'd
heroes
of
the
mimic
stage
No
longer
whine
in
love
,
and
rant
in
rage
;
The
monarch
quits
his
throne
,
and
condescends
Humbly
to
court
the
favour
of
his
friends
;
For
pity's
sake
tells
undeserv'd
mishaps
,
And
their
applause
to
gain
,
recounts
his
claps
.
Thus
the
victorious
chiefs
of
ancient
Rome
,
To
win
the
mob
,
a
suppliant's
form
assume
,
In
pompous
strain
fight
o'er
th'
extinguish'd
war
,
And
shew
where
honour
bled
in
every
scar
BUT
though
bear
merit
might
in
Rome
appear
'Tis
not
the
strongest
plea
for
favour
,
'tis
not
here
;
We
form
our
judgment
in
another
way
;
And
they
will
best
succeed
,
who
best
can
pay
:
Those
who
would
gain
the
votes
of
British
tribes
,
Must
add
to
force
of
merit
,
force
of
bribes
.
WHAT
can
an
actor
give
?
in
ev'ry
age
Cash
hath
been
rudely
banish'd
from
the
stage
;
Monarchs
themselves
to
grief
of
ev'ry
play'r
,
Appear
as
often
as
their
image
there
:
They
can't
,
like
candidate
for
other
seat
,
Pour
seas
of
wine
,
and
mountains
raise
of
meat
.
Wine
!
they
could
bribe
you
with
the
world
as
soon
;
And
of
roast
beef
,
they
only
know
the
tune
.
But
what
they
have
they
give
;
could
CLIVE
do
more
,
Though
for
one
million
he
had
brought
home
four
?
S—R
keeps
open
house
at
Southwark
fair
,
And
hopes
the
friends
of
humour
will
be
there
.
In
Smithfield
,
Y—s
prepares
the
rival
treat
,
For
those
who
laughter
love
instead
of
meat
.
F—TE
,
at
Old
House
,
for
even
F—TE
will
be
In
self-conceit
an
actor
)
bribes
with
tea
;
Which
W—K—S—N
at
second
hand
receives
,
And
at
the
New
pours
water
on
the
leaves
.
THE
Town
divided
,
each
runs
sev'ral
ways
,
As
passion
,
humour
,
int'rest
,
party
sways
.
Things
of
no
moment
,
colour
of
the
hair
,
Shape
of
a
leg
,
complexion
brown
or
fair
;
A
dress
well
chosen
,
or
a
patch
misplac'd
,
Conciliate
favour
,
or
create
distaste
.
FROM
galleries
loud
peals
of
laughter
roll
,
And
thunder
SHUTER'S
praises
—
he's
so
droll
.
Embox'd
the
ladies
must
have
something
smart
,
PALMER
!
Oh
!
PALMER
tops
the
janty
part
.
Seated
in
pit
,
the
dwarf
with
aching
eyes
Looks
up
,
and
vows
that
BARRY'S
out
of
size
;
Whilst
to
six
feet
the
stripling
vig'rous
grown
,
Declares
that
GARRICK
is
another
COAN
.
WHEN
place
of
judgment
is
by
whim
supply'd
,
And
our
opinions
have
their
rise
in
pride
;
When
,
in
discoursing
on
each
mimic
elf
,
We
praise
and
censure
with
an
eye
to
self
;
All
must
find
friends
;
and
A—M—N
bids
as
fair
In
such
a
court
,
as
GARRICK
for
the
chair
.
At
length
agreed
all
squabbles
to
decide
,
By
some
one
judge
the
cause
was
to
be
try'd
;
But
this
their
squabbles
did
afresh
renew
,
Who
should
be
judge
in
such
a
tryal
:
—
Who
?
FOR
J—HNS—N
some
;
but
J—HNS—N
,
it
was
fear'd
,
Would
be
too
grave
;
and
ST—NE
too
loose
appear'd
:
Some
call'd
for
M—Y
,
but
that
sound
soon
dy'd
,
And
Desart
Island
rang
on
ev'ry
side
:
Others
for
F—KL—N
voted
,
but
'twas
known
,
He
sicken'd
at
all
triumphs
but
his
own
:
For
COLMAN
many
,
but
the
peevish
tongue
Of
prudent
age
found
out
that
he
was
young
.
WITH
sleek
appearance
,
and
with
ambling
pace
,
And
,
type
of
vacant
head
,
with
vacant
face
,
The
Proteus
H—LL
put
in
his
modest
plea
—
Let
favour
speak
for
others
,
worth
for
me
.
For
who
like
him
his
various
pow'rs
could
call
Into
so
many
shapes
,
and
shine
in
all
?
Who
could
so
nobly
grace
the
motley
list
,
Actor
,
Inspector
,
Doctor
,
Botanist
.
Knows
any
one
so
well
,
sure
no
one
knows
,
At
once
to
play
,
prescribe
,
compound
,
compose
?
Who
can
?
—
But
WOODWARD
came
,
—
H—LL
slipp'd
away
,
Melting
like
ghosts
before
the
rising
day
.
COLD-BLOODED
critics
,
by
enervate
sires
Scarce
hammer'd
out
,
when
Nature's
feeble
fires
Glimmer'd
their
last
;
whose
sluggish
blood
,
half
froze
,
Creeps
lab'ring
thro'
the
veins
;
whose
heart
ne'er
glows
With
fancy-kindled
heat
—
A
servile
race
,
Who
in
mere
want
of
fault
all
merit
place
;
Who
blind
obedience
pay
to
ancient
schools
,
Bigots
to
Greece
,
and
slaves
to
musty
rules
;
With
solemn
consequence
declar'd
that
none
Could
judge
that
cause
but
SOPHOCLES
alone
.
Dupes
to
their
fancied
excellence
,
the
crowd
Obsequious
to
the
sacred
dictate
bow'd
.
WHEN
,
from
amidst
the
throng
a
youth
stood
forth
,
Unknown
his
person
,
not
unknown
his
worth
;
His
looks
bespoke
applause
;
alone
he
stood
,
Alone
he
stemm'd
the
mighty
critic
flood
.
He
talk'd
of
ancients
as
the
man
became
Who
priz'd
our
own
,
but
envied
not
their
fame
;
With
noble
rev'rence
spoke
of
Greece
and
Rome
,
And
scorn'd
to
tear
the
laurel
from
the
tomb
.
"
BUT
more
than
just
to
other
countries
grown
,
"
Must
we
turn
base
apostates
to
our
own
?
"
Where
do
these
words
of
Greece
and
Rome
excel
,
"
That
England
may
not
please
the
ear
as
well
?
"
What
mighty
magic's
in
the
place
or
air
,
"
That
all
perfection
needs
must
center
there
?
"
In
states
,
let
strangers
blindly
be
prefer'd
;
"
In
state
of
letters
,
merit
should
be
heard
.
"
Genius
is
of
no
country
,
her
pure
ray
"
Spreads
all
abroad
as
gen'ral
as
the
day
.
"
Foe
to
restraint
,
from
place
to
place
she
flies
,
"
And
may
hereafter
e'en
in
Holland
rise
.
"
May
not
,
to
give
a
pleasing
fancy
scope
,
"
And
chear
a
patriot
heart
with
patriot
hope
;
"
May
not
some
great
extensive
genius
raise
"
The
name
of
Britain
'bove
Athenian
praise
;
"
And
,
whilst
brave
thirst
of
fame
his
bosom
warms
,
"
Make
England
great
in
letters
as
in
arms
?
"
There
may
—
there
hath
—
and
SHAKESPEAR'S
muse
aspires
"
Beyond
the
reach
of
Greece
;
with
native
fires
,
"
Mounting
alost
he
wings
his
daring
flight
,
"
Whilst
SOPHOCLES
below
stands
trembling
at
his
height
.
"
WHY
should
we
then
abroad
for
judges
roam
,
When
abler
judges
we
may
find
at
home
?
Happy
in
tragic
and
in
comic
pow'rs
,
Have
we
not
SHAKESPEAR
?
—
Is
not
JOHNSON
ours
?
For
them
,
your
nat'ral
judges
,
Britons
vote
;
They'll
judge
like
Britons
,
who
like
Britons
wrote
.
HE
said
,
and
conquer'd
.
—
Sense
resum'd
her
sway
,
And
disappointed
pedants
stalk'd
away
.
SHAKESPEAR
and
JOHNSON
,
with
deserv'd
applause
,
Joint-judges
were
ordain'd
to
try
the
cause
.
Mean-time
the
stranger
ev'ry
voice
employ'd
,
To
ask
or
tell
his
name
.
—
"
Who
is
it
?
"
—
LLOYD
.
THUS
,
when
the
aged
friends
of
JOB
stood
mute
,
And
tamely
prudent
gave
up
the
dispute
,
ELIHU
,
with
the
decent
warmth
of
youth
,
Boldly
stood
forth
,
the
advocate
of
Truth
;
Confuted
Falshood
,
and
disabled
Pride
,
Whilst
baffled
Age
stood
snarling
at
his
side
.
THE
day
of
tryal's
fix'd
,
nor
any
fear
Lest
day
of
tryal
should
be
put
off
here
.
Causes
but
seldom
for
delay
can
call
In
courts
where
forms
are
few
,
fees
none
at
all
.
THE
morning
came
,
nor
find
I
that
the
sun
,
As
he
on
other
great
events
hath
done
,
Put
on
a
brighter
robe
than
what
he
wore
To
go
his
journey
in
the
day
before
.
FULL
in
the
centre
of
a
spacious
plain
,
On
plan
entirely
new
,
where
nothing
vain
,
Nothing
magnificent
appear'd
,
but
Art
,
With
decent
modesty
,
perform'd
her
part
,
Rose
a
tribunal
:
from
no
other
court
It
borrow'd
ornament
,
or
sought
support
:
No
juries
here
were
pack'd
to
kill
or
clear
,
No
bribes
were
taken
,
nor
oaths
broken
here
:
No
gownsmen
,
partial
to
a
client's
cause
,
To
their
own
purpose
tun'd
the
pliant
laws
.
Each
judge
was
true
and
steady
to
his
trust
,
As
MANSFIELD
wise
,
and
as
old
FOSTER
just
.
IN
the
first
seat
,
in
robe
of
various
dyes
,
A
noble
wildness
flashing
from
his
eyes
,
Sat
SHAKESPEAR
.
—
In
one
hand
a
wand
he
bore
,
For
mighty
wonders
fam'd
in
days
of
yore
;
The
other
held
a
globe
,
which
to
his
will
Obedient
turn'd
,
and
own'd
the
master's
skill
:
Things
of
the
noblest
kind
his
genius
drew
,
And
look'd
through
Nature
at
a
single
view
:
A
loose
he
gave
to
his
unbounded
soul
,
And
taught
new
lands
to
rise
,
new
seas
to
roll
;
Call'd
into
being
scenes
unknown
before
,
And
,
passing
Nature's
bounds
,
was
something
more
.
NEXT
JOHNSON
sat
,
—
in
ancient
learning
train'd
,
His
rigid
judgment
Fancy's
flights
restrain'd
,
Correctly
prun'd
each
wild
luxuriant
thought
,
Mark'd
out
her
course
,
nor
spar'd
a
glorious
fault
.
The
Book
of
Man
he
read
with
nicest
art
,
And
ransack'd
all
the
secrets
of
the
heart
;
Exerted
Penetration's
utmost
force
,
And
trac'd
each
passion
to
its
proper
source
.
Then
,
strongly
mark'd
,
in
liveliest
colours
drew
,
And
brought
each
soible
forth
to
public
view
.
The
coxcomb
felt
a
lash
in
ev'ry
word
,
And
fools
hung
out
their
brother
fools
deterr'd
.
His
comic
humour
kept
the
world
in
awe
,
And
Laughter
frightn'd
Folly
more
than
Law
.
BUT
,
hark
!
—
The
trumpet
sounds
,
the
crowd
gives
way
,
And
the
procession
comes
in
just
array
.
Now
should
I
,
in
some
sweet
poetic
line
,
Offer
up
incense
at
APOLLO'S
shrine
;
Invoke
the
Muse
to
quit
her
calm
abode
,
And
waken
Mem'ry
with
a
sleeping
ode
.
For
how
should
mortal
man
,
in
mortal
verse
,
Their
titles
,
merits
,
or
their
names
rehearse
?
But
give
,
kind
Dullness
,
Memory
and
Rhime
,
We'll
put
off
Genius
till
another
time
.
FIRST
,
Order
came
,
—
with
solemn
step
,
and
slow
,
In
measur'd
time
his
feet
were
taught
to
go
.
Behind
,
from
time
to
time
,
he
cast
his
eye
,
Lest
This
should
quit
his
place
,
That
step
awry
.
Appearances
to
save
,
his
only
care
;
So
things
seem
right
,
no
matter
what
they
are
.
In
him
his
parents
saw
themselves
renew'd
,
Begotten
by
Sir
Critic
on
Saint
Prude
.
THEN
came
drum
,
trumpet
,
hautboy
,
fiddle
,
flute
;
Next
,
snuffer
,
sweeper
,
shifter
,
soldier
,
mute
:
Legions
of
angels
all
in
white
advance
;
Furies
,
all
fire
,
come
forward
in
a
dance
:
Pantomine
figures
then
are
brought
to
view
,
Fools
,
hand
in
hand
with
fools
,
go
two
by
two
.
Next
came
the
treasurer
of
either
house
;
One
with
full
purse
,
t'other
with
not
a
sous
.
BEHIND
a
group
of
figures
awe
create
,
Set
off
with
all
th'
impertinence
of
state
;
By
lace
and
feather
consecrate
to
fame
,
Expletive
kings
and
queens
without
a
name
.
HERE
H—V—D
,
all
serene
,
in
the
same
strains
,
Loves
,
hates
,
and
rages
,
triumphs
and
complains
;
His
easy
vacant
face
proclaim'd
an
heart
Which
could
not
feel
emotions
,
nor
impart
.
With
him
came
mighty
D—s
:
—
On
my
life
,
That
D—s
hath
a
very
pretty
wife
!
—
Statesman
all
over
!
—
In
plots
famous
grown
!
—
He
mouths
a
sentence
,
as
—
ours
mouth
a
bone
.
NEXT
,
H—LL—ND
came
.
—
With
truly
tragic
stalk
,
He
creeps
,
he
flies
.
—
An
heroe
should
not
walk
.
As
if
with
Heav'n
he
warr'd
,
his
eager
eyes
Planted
their
batteries
against
the
skies
:
Attitude
,
action
,
air
,
pause
,
sigh
,
groan
He
borrow'd
,
and
made
use
of
as
his
own
.
By
Fortune
thrown
on
any
other
stage
,
He
might
,
perhaps
,
have
pleas'd
an
easy
age
;
But
now
appears
a
copy
,
and
no
more
,
Of
something
better
we
have
seen
before
.
The
actor
who
would
build
a
solid
fame
,
Must
Imitation's
servile
arts
disclaim
;
Act
from
himself
,
on
his
own
bottom
stand
.
—
I
hate
e'en
GARRICK
thus
at
second
hand
.
BEHIND
came
K—G.
—
Bred
up
in
modest
lore
,
Bashful
and
young
,
he
sought
Hibernia's
shore
;
Hibernia
,
fam'd
,
'bove
ev'ry
other
grace
,
For
matchless
intrepidity
of
face
.
From
her
his
features
caught
the
gen'rous
flame
,
And
bid
defiance
to
all
sense
of
shame
:
Tutor'd
by
all
her
rivals
to
surpass
,
'Mongst
DRURY'S
sons
he
comes
,
and
shines
in
Brass
.
Lo
Y—s
!
—
Without
the
least
finesse
of
art
He
gets
applause
!
—
I
wish
he'd
get
his
part
.
When
hot
impatience
is
in
full
career
,
How
vilely
"
Hark'e
!
Hark'e
!
"
grates
the
ear
?
When
active
Fancy
from
the
brain
is
sent
,
And
stands
on
tip-toe
for
some
wish'd
event
,
I
hate
those
careless
blunders
which
recall
Suspended
sense
,
and
prove
it
fiction
all
.
W—D—D
,
endow'd
with
various
pow'rs
of
face
,
Great
master
in
the
science
of
Grimace
,
From
Ireland
ventures
,
fav'rite
of
the
Town
,
Lur'd
by
the
pleasing
prospect
of
Renown
.
His
wit
and
humour
in
Distortion
lye
,
And
all
his
merit
enters
at
the
eye
.
We
laugh
,
we
clap
,
—
but
,
on
Reflection's
birth
,
We
wonder
at
ourselves
,
and
curse
our
mirth
.
His
walk
of
parts
he
fatally
misplac'd
,
And
Inclination
fondly
took
for
Taste
.
Hence
hath
the
Town
so
often
seen
display'd
Beau
in
burlesque
,
high-life
in
masquerade
.
Merit
he
had
,
some
merit
in
his
way
,
But
seldom
found
out
in
what
part
it
lay
.
In
Bobadil
,
indeed
,
such
praise
he
bore
,
Such
worthy
praise
,
that
Kitely
scarce
had
more
.
BY
turns
transform'd
into
all
kinds
of
shapes
,
Constant
to
none
,
F—TE
laughs
,
cries
,
struts
,
and
scrapes
:
Now
in
the
centre
,
now
in
van
or
rear
,
The
Proteus
shifts
,
Bawd
,
Parson
,
Auctioneer
.
His
strokes
of
humour
,
and
his
bursts
of
sport
,
Are
all
contain'd
in
this
one
word
,
Distort
.
Doth
a
man
stutter
,
look
a-squint
,
or
halt
;
Mimics
draw
humour
out
of
Nature's
fault
:
With
personal
defects
their
mirth
adorn
,
And
hang
misfortunes
out
to
public
scorn
.
E'en
I
,
whom
Nature
cast
in
hideous
mould
,
Whom
having
made
,
she
trembled
to
behold
,
Beneath
the
load
of
mimicry
may
groan
,
And
find
that
Nature's
errors
are
my
own
.
SHADOWS
behind
of
F—TE
and
W—D—D
came
;
W—K—S—N
this
,
OB—I—N
was
that
name
.
Strange
to
relate
,
but
wonderfully
true
,
That
even
shadows
have
their
shadows
too
!
With
not
a
single
comic
pow'r
endued
,
The
first
,
a
mere
mere
mimic's
mimic
stood
.
The
last
,
by
Nature
form'd
to
please
,
who
shews
,
In
JOHNSON'S
Stephen
,
which
way
Genius
grows
;
Self
quite
put
off
,
affects
,
with
too
much
art
,
To
put
on
WOODWARD
in
each
mangled
part
;
Adopts
his
shrug
,
his
wink
,
his
stare
;
nay
more
,
His
voice
,
and
croaks
;
for
WOODWARD
croak'd
before
.
Thus
the
dull
copyer
simple
grace
neglects
,
And
rests
his
Imitation
in
—
Defects
.
ARMS
cross'd
,
brows
bent
,
eyes
fix'd
,
feet
marching
slow
,
A
band
of
malcontents
with
spleen
o'erflow
;
Wrapp'd
in
Conceit's
impenetrable
fog
,
Which
Pride
,
like
Phoebus
,
draws
from
ev'ry
bog
;
They
curse
the
Managers
,
and
curse
the
Town
,
Whose
partial
favour
keeps
such
merit
down
.
BUT
if
some
man
,
more
hardy
than
the
rest
,
Should
dare
attack
these
gnatlings
in
their
nest
;
At
once
they
rise
with
impotence
of
rage
,
Whet
their
small
stings
,
and
buzz
about
the
stage
.
"
'Tis
breach
of
privilege
!
—
Shall
any
dare
"
To
arm
Satyric
Truth
against
a
play'r
?
"
Prescriptive
rights
we
plead
,
time
out
of
mind
;
"
Actors
,
unlash'd
themselves
,
may
lash
mankind
.
"
WHAT
!
shall
Opinion
then
,
of
Nature
free
And
lib'ral
as
the
vagrant
air
,
agree
To
rust
in
chains
like
these
,
impos'd
by
Things
Which
,
less
than
nothing
,
ape
the
pride
of
kings
?
No
,
—
though
half-poets
with
half-players
join
To
curse
the
freedom
of
each
honest
line
,
Though
rage
and
malice
dim
their
faded
cheek
,
What
the
Muse
freely
thinks
,
she'll
freely
speak
.
With
just
disdain
of
ev'ry
paltry
sneer
,
Stranger
alike
to
Flattery
and
Fear
,
In
purpose
fix'd
,
and
to
herself
a
rule
,
Public
Contempt
shall
wait
the
Public
Fool
.
A—ST—N
would
always
glisten
in
French
silks
,
A—KM—N
would
NORRIS
be
,
and
P—CK—R
WILKS
.
For
who
,
like
A—KM—N
can
with
humour
please
?
Who
can
,
like
P—CK—R
,
charm
with
sprightly
ease
?
Higher
than
all
the
rest
,
see
BR—NS—Y
strut
:
A
mighty
Gulliver
in
Lilliput
!
Ludicrous
Nature
!
which
at
once
could
shew
A
man
so
very
High
,
so
very
Low
.
IF
I
forget
thee
,
BL—K—S
,
or
if
I
say
Ought
hurtful
,
may
I
never
see
thee
play
.
Let
critics
,
with
a
supercilious
air
,
Decry
thy
various
merit
,
and
declare
,
Frenchman
is
still
at
top
;
—
but
scorn
that
rage
Which
,
in
attacking
thee
,
attacks
the
age
.
French
follies
,
universally
embrac'd
,
At
once
provoke
our
mirth
,
and
form
our
taste
.
LONG
from
a
nation
,
ever
hardly
us'd
,
At
random
censur'd
,
wantonly
abus'd
,
Have
Britons
drawn
their
sport
;
with
partial
view
Form'd
gen'ral
notions
from
the
rascal
few
;
Condemn'd
a
people
,
as
for
vices
known
,
Which
from
their
country
banish'd
seek
our
own
.
At
length
,
howe'er
,
the
slavish
chain
is
broke
,
And
Sense
,
awaken'd
,
scorns
her
ancient
yoke
:
Taught
by
thee
,
MOODY
,
we
now
learn
to
raise
Mirth
from
their
foibles
;
from
their
virtues
,
praise
.
FROM
C—v—nt-G—rd—n
crowds
promiscuous
go
,
Whom
the
Muse
knows
not
,
nor
desires
to
know
.
Vet'rans
they
seem'd
,
but
knew
of
arms
no
more
Than
if
,
till
that
time
,
arms
they
never
bore
.
Like
Westminster
militia
,
train'd
to
fight
,
They
scarcely
knew
the
left
hand
from
the
right
.
Asham'd
among
such
troops
to
shew
the
head
,
Their
chiefs
were
scatter'd
,
and
their
heroes
fled
.
S—RKS
at
his
glass
sat
comfortably
down
To
sep'rate
frown
from
smile
,
and
smile
from
frown
.
SM—H
the
genteel
,
the
airy
,
and
the
smart
,
SM—H
was
just
gone
to
school
to
say
his
part
.
R—SS
(
a
misfortune
which
we
often
meet
)
Was
fast
asleep
at
dear
STATIRA'S
feet
;
STATIRA
,
with
her
heroe
to
agree
,
Stood
on
her
feet
as
fast
asleep
as
he
.
M—KL—N
,
who
largely
deals
in
half-form'd
sounds
,
Who
wantonly
transgresses
Nature's
bounds
,
Eager
to
touch
up
some
new
comic
scene
,
Lay
happily
conceal'd
behind
a
screen
.
SH—T—R
,
who
never
car'd
a
single
pin
Whether
he
left
out
nonsense
or
put
in
,
Who
aim'd
at
wit
,
though
,
levell'd
in
the
dark
,
The
random
arrow
seldom
hit
the
mark
,
At
Islington
,
all
by
the
placid
stream
.
Where
city
swains
in
lap
of
Dullness
dream
,
Where
,
quiet
as
her
strains
,
their
strains
do
flow
,
That
all
the
patron
by
the
bards
may
know
;
Secret
as
night
,
with
R—LT'S
experienc'd
aid
,
The
plan
of
future
operations
laid
,
Projected
schemes
,
the
summer-months
to
chear
,
And
spin
out
happy
Folly
thro'
the
year
.
BUT
think
not
,
though
these
dastard
chiefs
are
fled
,
That
C—ve—nt-G—rd—n
troops
shall
want
an
head
:
Harlequin
comes
their
chief
!
—
See
,
from
afar
,
The
heroe
seated
in
fantastic
car
!
Wedded
to
Novelty
,
his
only
arms
Are
wooden
swords
,
wands
,
talismans
,
and
charms
.
On
one
side
Folly
sits
,
by
some
call'd
Fun
,
And
,
on
the
other
,
his
arch-patron
LUN
.
Behind
,
for
Liberty
a-thirst
in
vain
,
Sense
,
helpless
captive
,
drags
the
galling
chain
.
Six
rude
mishapen
beasts
the
chariot
draw
,
Whom
Reason
loaths
,
and
Nature
never
saw
;
Monsters
,
with
tails
of
ice
,
and
heads
of
fire
;
Gorgons
,
and
hydras
,
and
chymaeras
dire
.
Each
was
bestrode
by
full
as
monstrous
wight
,
Giant
,
Dwarf
,
Genius
,
Elf
,
Hermaphrodite
.
The
Town
,
as
usual
,
met
him
in
full
cry
:
The
Town
,
as
usual
,
knew
no
reason
why
.
But
Fashion
so
directs
,
and
Moderns
raise
,
On
Fashion's
mould'ring
base
,
their
transient
praise
.
NEXT
,
to
the
field
a
band
of
females
draw
Their
Force
;
for
Britain
owns
no
Salique
Law
:
Just
to
their
worth
,
we
female
rights
admit
,
Nor
bar
their
claim
to
Empire
or
to
Wit
.
FIRST
,
giggling
,
plotting
chamber-maids
arrive
,
Hoydens
and
Romps
,
led
on
by
Gen'ral
CLIVE
.
In
spight
of
outward
blemishes
she
shone
For
Humour
fam'd
,
and
Humour
all
her
own
.
Easy
,
as
if
at
home
,
the
stage
she
trod
,
Nor
sought
the
Critic's
praise
,
nor
fear'd
his
rod
.
Original
in
spirit
and
in
ease
,
She
pleas'd
by
hiding
all
attempts
to
please
.
No
comic
actress
ever
yet
could
raise
,
On
Humour's
base
,
more
merit
or
more
praise
.
WITH
all
the
native
vigour
of
sixteen
,
Among
the
merry
troop
conspicuous
seen
,
See
lively
POPE
advance
in
jig
and
trip
,
Corinna
,
Cherry
,
Honeycomb
,
and
Snip
.
Not
without
Art
,
but
yet
to
Nature
true
,
She
charms
the
Town
with
Humour
just
,
yet
new
.
Chear'd
by
her
promise
,
we
the
less
deplore
The
fatal
time
when
CLIVE
shall
be
no
more
.
MIGHT
Figure
give
a
title
unto
Fame
,
WHAT
rival
should
with
Y—T—S
dispute
her
claim
?
But
Justice
may
not
partial
trophies
raise
,
Nor
sink
the
Actress
in
the
Woman's
praise
.
Still
,
hand
in
hand
,
her
words
and
actions
go
,
And
the
heart
feels
more
than
the
features
shew
;
For
through
the
regions
of
that
beauteous
face
,
We
no
variety
of
passions
trace
;
Dead
to
the
soft
emotions
of
the
heart
,
No
kindred
softness
can
those
eyes
impart
;
The
brow
,
still
fix'd
in
Sorrow's
gloomy
frame
,
Void
of
distinction
,
marks
all
parts
the
same
.
WHAT'S
a
fine
person
,
or
a
beauteous
face
,
Unless
Deportment
gives
it
decent
grace
?
Bless'd
with
all
other
requisites
to
please
,
Some
want
the
striking
elegance
of
Ease
;
The
curious
eye
their
awkward
movement
tires
;
They
seem
like
puppets
led
about
by
wires
.
Others
,
like
statues
,
in
one
posture
still
,
Give
great
ideas
of
the
workman's
skill
;
Wond'ring
,
his
art
we
praise
the
more
we
view
,
And
only
grieve
he
gave
not
motion
too
.
Weak
of
themselves
are
what
we
beauties
call
,
It
is
the
Manner
which
gives
strength
to
all
.
This
teaches
ev'ry
beauty
to
unite
,
And
brings
them
forward
in
the
noblest
light
.
Happy
in
this
,
behold
,
amidst
the
throng
,
With
transient
gleam
of
grace
,
H—T
sweeps
along
.
FORM'D
for
the
tragic
scene
,
to
grace
the
stage
,
With
rival
excellence
of
Love
and
Rage
,
Mistress
of
each
soft
art
,
with
matchless
skill
To
turn
and
wind
the
passions
as
she
will
;
To
melt
the
heart
with
sympathetic
woe
,
Awake
the
sigh
,
and
teach
the
tear
to
flow
;
To
put
on
Frenzy's
wild
distracted
glare
,
And
freeze
the
soul
with
horror
and
despair
;
With
just
desert
enroll'd
in
endless
fame
,
Conscious
of
worth
superior
,
C—BB—R
came
.
WHEN
poor
ALICIA'S
madding
brains
are
rackd
,
And
strongly
imag'd
griefs
her
mind
distract
;
Struck
with
her
grief
,
I
catch
the
madness
too
!
My
brain
turns
round
!
The
headless
trunk
I
view
!
The
roof
cracks
,
shakes
,
and
falls
!
—
New
horrors
rise
,
And
Reason
buried
in
the
ruin
lies
.
NOBLY
disdainful
of
each
slavish
art
,
She
makes
her
first
attack
upon
the
heart
:
Pleas'd
with
the
summons
,
it
receives
her
laws
;
And
all
is
,
silence
,
sympathy
,
applause
.
BUT
when
,
by
fond
Ambition
drawn
aside
,
Giddy
with
praise
,
and
puff'd
with
female
pride
,
She
quits
the
tragic
scene
,
and
,
in
pretence
To
comic
merit
,
breaks
down
Nature's
fence
;
I
scarcely
can
believe
my
ears
and
eyes
,
Or
find
out
C—BB—R
through
the
dark
disguise
.
PRITCHARD
,
by
Nature
for
the
stage
design'd
,
In
person
graceful
,
and
in
sense
refin'd
;
Her
Art
as
much
as
Nature's
friend
became
,
Her
voice
as
free
from
blemish
as
her
fame
.
Who
knows
so
well
in
majesty
to
please
,
Attemper'd
with
the
graceful
charms
of
ease
?
WHEN
CONGREVE'S
favour'd
pantomine
to
grace
,
She
comes
a
captive
queen
of
Moorish
race
;
When
Love
,
Hate
,
Jealousy
,
Despair
,
and
Rage
,
With
wildest
tumults
in
her
breast
engage
;
Still
equal
to
herself
is
Zara
seen
:
Her
passions
are
the
passions
of
a
queen
.
WHEN
she
to
murther
whets
the
tim'rous
Thane
,
I
feel
Ambition
rush
through
ev'ry
vein
;
Persuasion
hangs
upon
her
daring
tongue
,
My
heart
grows
flint
,
and
ev'ry
nerve's
new
strung
.
IN
comedy
—
"
Nay
,
there
,
"
cries
critic
,
"
hold
.
"
PRITCHARD'S
for
comedy
too
fat
and
old
.
"
Who
can
,
with
patience
,
bear
the
grey
coquette
,
"
Or
force
a
laugh
with
over-grown
Julett
?
"
Her
speech
,
look
,
action
,
humour
,
all
are
just
;
"
But
then
,
her
age
and
figure
give
disgust
.
"
ARE
foibles
then
,
and
graces
of
the
mind
,
In
real
life
,
to
size
or
age
confin'd
?
Do
spirits
flow
,
and
is
good-breeding
plac'd
In
any
set
circumference
of
waist
?
As
we
grow
old
,
doth
affectation
cease
,
Or
gives
not
age
new
vigour
to
caprice
?
If
in
originals
these
things
appear
,
Why
should
we
bar
them
in
the
copy
here
?
THE
nice
punctilio-mongers
of
this
age
,
The
grand
minute
reformers
of
the
stage
,
Slaves
to
propriety
of
ev'ry
kind
,
Some
standard-measure
for
each
part
should
find
;
Which
,
when
the
best
of
actors
shall
exceed
,
Let
it
devolve
to
one
of
smaller
breed
.
ALL
actors
too
upon
the
back
should
bear
Certificate
of
birth
;
—
time
,
when
;
—
place
,
where
.
For
how
can
critics
rightly
fix
their
worth
,
Unless
they
know
the
minute
of
their
birth
?
An
audience
too
,
deceived
,
may
find
,
too
late
,
That
they
have
clapp'd
an
actor
out
of
date
.
FIGURE
,
I
own
,
at
first
,
may
give
offence
,
And
harshly
strike
the
eye's
too
curious
sense
:
But
when
perfections
of
the
mind
break
forth
,
Humour's
chaste
sallies
,
Judgment's
solid
worth
;
When
the
pure
genuine
flame
,
by
Nature
taught
,
Springs
into
Sense
,
and
ev'ry
action's
Thought
;
Before
such
merit
,
all
objections
fly
;
PRITCHARD'S
genteel
,
and
GARRICK
six
feet
high
.
OFT
have
I
,
PRITCHARD
,
seen
thy
wond'rous
skill
,
Confess'd
thee
great
,
but
find
thee
greater
still
.
That
worth
,
which
shone
in
scatter'd
rays
before
,
Collected
now
,
breaks
forth
with
double
power
.
The
Jealous
Wife
!
—
On
that
thy
trophies
raise
,
Inferior
only
to
the
Author's
praise
.
FROM
D—bl—n
,
fam'd
in
legends
of
romance
For
mighty
magic
of
enchanted
lance
,
With
which
her
heroes
arm'd
victorious
prove
,
And
,
like
a
flood
,
rush
o'er
the
land
of
Love
;
M—SS—P
and
B—R—Y
came
.
—
Names
ne'er
design'd
By
Fate
in
the
same
sentence
to
be
join'd
.
RAIS'D
by
the
breath
of
popular
acclaim
,
They
mounted
to
the
pinnacle
of
Fame
:
There
the
weak
brain
,
made
giddy
with
the
height
,
Spur'd
on
the
rival
chiefs
to
mortal
fight
.
Thus
sportive
boys
,
around
some
bason's
brim
,
Behold
the
pipe-drawn
bladders
circling
swim
;
But
if
,
from
lungs
more
potent
,
there
arise
Two
bubbles
of
a
more
than
common
size
,
Eager
for
honour
,
they
for
fight
prepare
,
Bubble
meets
bubble
,
and
both
sink
to
air
.
M—SS—P
,
attach'd
to
military
plan
,
Still
kept
his
eye
fix'd
on
his
right-hand
man
:
Whilst
the
mouth
measures
words
with
seeming
skill
,
The
right
hand
labours
,
and
the
left
lies
still
.
For
he
resolv'd
on
scripture-grounds
to
go
,
What
the
right
doth
,
the
left
hand
shall
not
know
.
With
studied
impropriety
of
speech
,
He
soars
beyond
the
hackney
critic's
reach
;
To
epithets
allots
emphatic
state
,
Whilst
principals
,
ungrac'd
,
like
lacquies
wait
;
In
ways
first
trodden
by
himself
excels
,
And
stands
alone
in
indeclinables
:
Conjunction
,
preposition
,
adverb
,
join
To
stamp
new
vigour
on
the
nervous
line
:
In
monosyllables
his
thunders
roll
,
He
,
she
,
it
,
and
,
we
,
ye
,
they
fright
the
soul
.
IN
person
taller
than
the
common
size
,
Behold
where
B—Y
draws
admiring
eyes
!
When
lab'ring
passions
,
in
his
bosom
pent
,
Convulsive
rage
,
and
struggling
heave
for
vent
;
Spectators
,
with
imagin'd
terrors
warm
,
Anxious
expect
the
bursting
of
the
storm
:
But
all
unfit
in
such
a
pile
to
dwell
,
His
voice
comes
forth
like
Echo
from
her
cell
;
To
swell
the
tempest
needful
aid
denies
,
And
all
adown
the
stage
in
feeble
murmurs
dies
.
WHAT
man
,
like
B—Y
,
with
such
pains
can
err
In
elocution
,
action
,
character
?
What
man
could
give
,
if
B—Y
was
not
here
,
Such
well-applauded
tenderness
to
Lear
?
Who
else
can
speak
so
very
,
very
fine
,
That
Sense
may
kindly
end
with
ev'ry
line
?
SOME
dozen
lines
before
the
ghost
is
there
,
Behold
him
for
the
solemn
scene
prepare
.
See
how
he
frames
his
eyes
,
poises
each
limb
,
Puts
the
whole
body
into
proper
trim
,
—
From
whence
we
learn
,
with
no
great
stretch
of
art
,
Five
lines
hence
comes
a
ghost
,
and
,
ha
!
a
start
.
WHEN
he
appears
most
perfect
,
still
we
find
Something
which
jars
upon
,
and
hurts
the
mind
.
Whatever
lights
upon
a
part
are
thrown
,
We
see
too
plainly
they
are
not
his
own
.
No
flame
from
Nature
ever
yet
he
caught
,
Nor
knew
a
feeling
which
he
was
not
taught
:
He
rais'd
his
trophies
on
the
base
of
art
,
And
conn'd
his
passions
as
he
conn'd
his
part
.
Q—N
,
from
afar
,
lur'd
by
the
scent
of
Fame
,
A
Stage-Leviathan
,
put
in
his
claim
.
Pupil
of
BETTERTON
and
BOOTH
.
Alone
,
Sullen
he
walk'd
,
and
deem'd
the
chair
his
own
.
For
how
should
moderns
,
mushrooms
of
the
day
,
Who
ne'er
those
masters
knew
,
know
how
to
play
?
GRAY-BEARDED
vet'rans
,
who
,
with
partial
tongue
,
Extol
the
times
when
they
themselves
were
young
;
Who
,
having
lost
all
relish
for
the
stage
,
See
not
their
own
defects
,
but
lash
the
age
,
Receiv'd
,
with
joyful
murmurs
of
applause
,
Their
darling
chief
,
and
lin'd
his
fav'rite
cause
.
FAR
be
it
from
the
candid
Muse
to
tread
Insulting
o'er
the
ashes
of
the
dead
.
But
just
to
living
merit
,
she
maintains
,
And
dares
the
test
,
whilst
GARRICK'S
Genius
reigns
;
Ancients
,
in
vain
,
endeavour
to
excel
,
Happily
prais'd
if
they
could
act
as
well
.
BUT
,
though
Prescription's
force
we
disallow
,
Nor
to
Antiquity
submissive
bow
;
Though
we
deny
imaginary
grace
,
Founded
on
accidents
of
time
and
place
;
Yet
real
worth
of
ev'ry
growth
shall
bear
,
Due
praise
,
nor
dare
we
,
Q—N
,
forget
thee
there
.
His
words
bore
sterling
weight
,
nervous
and
strong
,
In
manly
tides
of
sense
they
roll'd
along
.
Happy
in
art
,
he
chiefly
had
pretence
To
keep
up
Numbers
,
yet
not
forfeit
Sense
,
No
actor
ever
greater
heights
could
reach
In
all
the
labour'd
artifice
of
speech
.
SPEECH
!
Is
that
all
?
And
,
shall
an
actor
found
,
An
universal
fame
on
partial
ground
?
Parrots
themselves
speak
properly
by
rote
,
And
,
in
six
months
,
my
dog
shall
howl
by
note
.
I
laugh
at
those
who
,
when
the
Stage
they
tread
,
Neglect
the
heart
to
compliment
the
head
;
With
strict
propriety
,
their
care's
confin'd
To
weigh
out
words
,
while
Passion
halts
behind
.
To
Syllable-dissectors
they
appeal
,
Allow
them
accent
,
cadence
,
—
Fools
may
feel
;
But
,
spite
of
all
the
criticising
elves
,
Those
who
would
make
us
feel
,
must
feel
themselves
.
His
eyes
,
in
gloomy
socket
taught
to
roll
,
Proclaim'd
the
sullen
habit
of
his
soul
.
Heavy
and
phlegmatic
he
trod
the
Stage
,
Too
proud
for
tenderness
,
too
dull
for
rage
.
WHEN
Hector's
lovely
widow
shines
in
tears
,
Or
Rowe's
gay
Rake
dependant
Virtue
jeers
;
With
the
same
cast
of
features
he
is
seen
To
chide
the
Libertine
,
and
court
the
Queen
.
FROM
the
tame
scene
which
without
passion
flows
,
With
just
desert
his
reputation
rose
.
Nor
less
he
pleas'd
,
when
,
on
some
surly
plan
,
He
was
,
at
once
,
the
Actor
and
the
Man
.
IN
Brute
he
shone
unequall'd
:
all
agree
GARRICK'S
not
half
so
great
a
Brute
as
he
.
When
Cato's
labour'd
scenes
are
brought
to
view
,
With
equal
praise
the
Actor
labour'd
too
.
For
still
you'll
find
,
trace
passions
to
their
root
,
Small
diff'rence
'twixt
the
Stoic
and
the
Brute
.
IN
fancied
scenes
,
as
in
life's
real
plan
,
He
could
not
,
for
a
moment
,
sink
the
Man
.
In
whate'er
cast
his
character
was
laid
,
Self
still
,
like
oil
,
upon
the
surface
play'd
.
Nature
,
in
spite
of
all
his
skill
,
crept
in
:
Horatio
,
Dorax
,
Falstaff
,
—
still
'twas
Q—N
.
NEXT
follows
SH—R—D—N.
—
A
doubtful
name
,
As
yet
unsettled
in
the
rank
of
Fame
.
This
,
fondly
lavish
in
his
praises
grown
,
Gives
him
all
merit
;
That
,
allows
him
none
.
Between
them
both
,
we'll
steer
the
middle
course
,
Nor
,
loving
Praise
,
rob
Judgment
of
her
force
.
JUST
his
conceptions
,
natural
and
great
:
His
feelings
strong
,
his
words
enforc'd
with
weight
.
Was
speech-fam'd
Q—N
himself
to
hear
him
speak
,
Envy
would
drive
the
colour
from
his
cheek
:
But
step-dame
Nature
,
niggard
of
her
grace
,
Deny'd
the
social
pow'rs
of
voice
and
face
.
Fix'd
in
one
frame
of
features
,
glare
of
eye
,
Passions
,
like
Chaos
,
in
confusion
lie
:
In
vain
the
wonders
of
his
skill
are
try'd
To
form
Distinction
Nature
hath
deny'd
.
His
voice
no
touch
of
harmony
admits
,
Irregularly
deep
and
shrill
by
fits
:
The
two
extremes
appear
,
like
man
and
wife
,
Coupled
together
for
the
sake
of
strife
.
His
Action's
always
strong
,
but
sometimes
such
That
Candour
must
declare
,
he
acts
too
much
.
Why
must
Impatience
fall
three
paces
back
?
Why
paces
three
return
to
the
attack
?
Why
is
the
right
leg
too
forbid
to
stir
,
Unless
in
motion
semicircular
?
Why
must
the
Heroe
with
the
Nailor
vie
,
And
hurl
the
close-clench'd
fist
at
nose
or
eye
?
IN
Royal
John
,
with
Philip
angry
grown
,
I
thought
he
would
have
knock'd
poor
D—V—S
down
.
Inhuman
tyrant
!
was
it
not
a
shame
To
fright
a
king
so
harmless
and
so
tame
?
BUT
,
spight
of
all
defects
,
his
glories
rise
;
And
Art
,
by
Judgment
form'd
,
with
Nature
vies
.
Behold
him
sound
the
depth
of
HUBERT'S
soul
,
Whilst
in
his
own
contending
passions
roll
.
View
the
whole
scene
,
with
critic
judgment
scan
,
And
then
—
deny
him
Merit
if
you
can
.
Where
he
falls
short
,
'tis
Nature's
fault
alone
;
Where
he
succeds
,
the
Merit's
all
his
own
.
LAST
,
GARRICK
came
.
—
Behind
him
throng
a
train
Of
snarling
critics
,
ignorant
as
vain
.
ONE
finds
out
,
—
"
He's
of
stature
somewhat
low
,
—
"
Your
Heroe
always
should
be
tall
you
know
.
—
"
True
nat'ral
greatness
all
consists
in
height
.
"
—
Produce
your
voucher
,
Critic
.
—
"
Serjeant
KYTE
.
"
ANOTHER
can't
forgive
the
paltry
arts
By
which
he
makes
his
way
to
shallow
hearts
;
Mere
pieces
of
finesse
,
traps
for
applause
.
—
"
Avant
unnat'ral
start
,
affected
pause
.
"
FOR
me
,
by
Nature
form'd
to
judge
with
phlegm
,
I
can't
acquit
by
wholesale
nor
condemn
.
The
best
things
carried
to
excess
are
wrong
;
The
start
may
be
too
frequent
,
pause
too
long
.
But
only
us'd
in
proper
time
and
place
,
Severest
judgment
must
allow
them
Grace
.
IF
Bunglers
,
form'd
on
Imitation's
plan
,
Just
in
the
way
that
Monkies
mimic
Man
;
Their
copied
scene
with
mangled
arts
disgrace
,
And
pause
and
start
with
the
same
vacant
face
;
We
join
the
critic
laugh
;
those
tricks
we
scorn
,
Which
spoil
the
scenes
they
mean
them
to
adorn
.
BUT
when
,
from
Nature's
pure
and
genuine
source
,
These
strokes
of
acting
flow
with
gen'rous
force
;
When
in
the
features
all
the
soul's
portray'd
,
And
passions
,
such
as
GARRICK'S
,
are
display'd
;
To
me
they
seem
from
quickest
feelings
caught
:
Each
start
,
is
Nature
;
and
each
pause
,
is
Thought
.
WHEN
Reason
yields
to
Passion's
wild
alarms
,
And
the
whole
state
of
Man
is
up
in
arms
;
What
,
but
a
Critic
,
could
condemn
the
Play'r
For
pausing
here
,
when
Cool
Sense
pauses
there
?
Whilst
,
working
from
the
heart
,
the
fire
I
trace
,
And
mark
it
strongly
flaming
to
the
face
;
Whilst
,
in
each
sound
,
I
hear
the
very
man
;
I
can't
catch
words
,
and
pity
those
who
can
.
LET
Wits
,
like
Spiders
,
from
the
tortur'd
brain
Fine-draw
the
critic-web
with
curious
pain
;
The
Gods
,
—
a
kindness
I
with
thanks
must
pay
,
—
Have
form'd
me
of
a
coarser
kind
of
clay
;
Nor
stung
with
Envy
,
nor
with
Spleen
diseas'd
,
A
poor
dull
creature
,
still
with
Nature
pleas'd
:
Hence
to
thy
praises
,
GARRICK
,
I
agree
,
And
,
pleas'd
with
Nature
,
must
be
pleas'd
with
Thee
.
Now
might
I
tell
how
silence
reign'd
throughout
,
And
deep
attention
hush'd
the
rabble
rout
;
How
ev'ry
claimant
,
tortur'd
with
desire
,
Was
pale
as
ashes
,
or
as
red
as
fire
:
But
,
loose
to
Fame
,
the
Muse
more
simply
acts
,
Rejects
all
flourish
,
and
relates
mere
facts
.
THE
judges
,
as
the
sev'ral
parties
came
,
With
Temper
heard
,
with
Judgment
weigh'd
each
claim
,
And
in
their
sentence
happily
agreed
,
In
name
of
both
,
Great
SHAKESPEAR
thus
decreed
:
"
IF
Manly
Sense
;
if
Nature
,
link'd
with
Art
;
"
If
thorough
Knowledge
of
the
Human
Heart
;
"
If
Pow'rs
of
Acting
,
vast
and
unconfin'd
;
"
If
fewest
Faults
,
with
greatest
Beauties
join'd
;
"
If
strong
Expression
,
and
strange
Pow'rs
,
which
lie
"
Within
the
magic
circle
of
the
eye
;
"
If
Feelings
which
few
hearts
,
like
His
,
can
know
,
"
And
which
no
Face
so
well
as
His
can
shew
;
"
Deserve
the
Pref'rence
;
—
GARRICK
take
the
Chair
;
"
Nor
quit
it
—
'till
Thou
place
an
Equal
There
.