To Mr. GARRICK. By the Same. ON old PARNASSUS, t' other day, The Muses met to sing and play; Apart from all the rest were seen The tragick and the comick queen, Engag'd, perhaps, in deep debate, On RICH'S, or on FLEETWOOD'S fate. When, on a sudden, news was brought That GARRICK had the patent got, And both their ladyships again Might now return to Drury-lane. They bow'd, they simper'd, and agreed They wish'd the project might succeed, 'Twas very possible, the case Was likely too, and had a face — A face! Thalia titt'ring cry'd, And cou'd her joy no longer hide; Why, sister, all the world must see How much this makes for you and me; No longer now shall we expose Our unbought goods to empty rows, Or meanly be oblig'd to court From foreign aid a weak support; No more the poor polluted scene Shall teem with births of Harlequin; Or vindicated stage shall feel The insults of the dancer's heel. Such idle trash we'll kindly spare To operas now — they'll want them there; For Sadler's-Wells, they say, this year Has quite undone their engineer. Pugh, you're a wag, the buskin'd prude Reply'd, and smil'd; besides 'tis rude To laugh at foreigners, you know, And triumph o'er a vanquish'd foe: For my part, I shall be content If things succeed as they are meant; And should not be displeas'd to find Some changes of the tragick kind. And say, THALIA, mayn't we hope The stage will take a larger scope? Shall he whose all-expressive powers Can reach the heights that SHAKESPEAR soars, Descend to touch an humbler key, And tickle ears with poetry; Where every tear is taught to flow Thro' many a line's melodious woe, And heart-felt pangs of deep distress Are fritter'd into similes? — O thou, whom nature taught the art To pierce, to cleave, to tear the heart, Whatever name delight thine ear, OTHELLO, RICHARD, HAMLET, LEAR, O undertake my just defence, And banish all but nature hence! See, to thy aid with streaming eyes The fair afflicted CONSTANCE flies; Now wild as winds in madness tears Her heaving breasts and scatter'd hairs; Or low on earth disdains relief With all the conscious pride of grief. My PRITCHARD too in HAMLET'S queen — The goddess of the sportive vein Here stop'd her short, and with a sneer, My PRITCHARD, if you please, my dear! Her tragick merit I confess, But surely mine's her proper dress; Behold her there with native ease, And native spirit, born to please; With all MARIA'S charms engage, Or MILWOOD'S arts, or TOUCHWOOD'S rage, Thro' every foible trace the fair, Or leave the town, and toilet's care To chaunt in forests unconfin'd The wilder notes of ROSALIND. O thou, where-e'er thou fix thy praise, BRUTE, DRUGGER, FRIBBLE, RANGER, BAYS! O join with her in my behalf, And teach an audience when to laugh. So shall buffoons with shame repair To draw in fools at Smithfield fair, And real humour charm the age, Tho' FALSTAFF should forsake the stage. She spoke. MELPOMENE reply'd, And much was said on either side; And many a chief, and many a fair, Were mention'd to their credit there. But I'll not venture to display What goddesses think fit to say. However, GARRICK, this at least Appears, by both a truth confess'd, That their whole fate for many a year But hangs on your paternal care. A nation's taste depends on you — Perhaps a nation's virtue too. O think how glorious 'twere to raise A theatre to virtue's praise. Where no indignant blush might rise, Nor wit be taught to plead for vice: But every young attentive ear Imbibe the precepts, living there. And every unexperienc'd breast There feel its own rude hints express'd, And, waken'd by the glowing scene, Unfold the worth that lurks within. If possible, be perfect quite; A few short rules will guide you right. Consult your own good sense in all, Be deaf to fashion's fickle call, Nor e'er descend from reason's laws To court what you command, applause.