I see, I see, the vanquished 0. P's fly ,
I hear them groan, and groaning 0. P. die.
In utter darkness, and in silence now,. .
I hear the last sad murmur of the row!!

ona

A public Theatre, has ever been,
A place where all that passes should be seen
Except, the tricks perform'd behind the scene:
There, if indeed ihe managers should chuse,
To turn the green-room to a sort of stews,':
Permit their patrons when the humour suits,
(As grey, as rich, as impotent as - .
To woo their Juliets, Desdemonas win,
And take a good per centage on the sin,':.:
'Tis nought to us-our daughters and our wives,
May still go home, and lead unblemish'd lives.
'Tis snugly done, and being out of view,
There's no example, or confin’d to few:-
Occasion's ev'ry thing--and most, I fear
Would be dishonest, were no witness near.
How warm, how snug, how private and secure,
A lock, and key, and bolts to ev'ry door,
Soft sofas too, and cushions, and settees,
Sure, such allurements cannot fail to please,
They seem to woo the very soul to ease.

Then p’rhaps below, ( they're no uncommon things)
Soft music flows, or am'rous Lobski sings,
Or, from th' Italian stage, tight dancers twirl,
And romp, and wriggle round some rosy girl;
And what do they, who loll above the while,
Sit, like the vulgar Pit, and tamely smile ? '
No! their warm blood, more fiercely ebbs, and flows,
A private box, will all the rest disclose. .

va

A public theatre, I say again, Is public property--though private men Exhaust their fortunes in the speculation, Yet still, they're only bricklayʻrs to the nation, And build for our, not their accommodation! :) 'Tis not a country box, where cits may raise A Chinese pigstye;' bumpkins to amaze No! 'tis the people's house, and ev'ry part, Should be as open as a British heartTis your's, 'tis mine, and should be free as air, No vile exclusion should be suffer'd there. What'! does pollution seize the squeamish peer, If healthy yeomen brush too rudely near? Cannot rich rogues endure to mix, and smile With those, from whom theywrungtheir treasures vile?

And, are their wives and daughters grown so proud,
They cannot bear that vulgar thing, a crowd,
Save in their own state rooms, where they “at home,”
Keep little carnivals, and mimic Rome?

002

In England, (liberty's peculiar throne,) All jealous, proud exclusion is unknown; We hate distinctions, and abhor the lines Which, harshly accurate, each rank defines ; The peasant's cheek can boast as pure a rose, And in his eye as noble lustre glows, As fires the monarch's, when he rides afar, And leads with bick’ring blade the smoking war. The British people, like those works of art A Claude could only to the world impart, Of ev'ry shade and mixture are combin'd, And seem th' epitome of human kind; Now vivid colours glow, then dark prevail, Here frowns the steep ascent, there smiles the vale, And tints with tints, and lights with shadows vie, ) But, all together blend harmoniously,. , And charm the soul, and fill the raptur'd eye. If to an English mind, discerning Heav'n, Nor judgment, taste, nor sense, nor wit had giv'n,

VI

Then, might indeed, our managers and play'rs,
Have curld the lip, and shewn conceited airs.--
But, wept we not o’er Belvidera's woes?
Throbb'd not our hearts when kindling Brutus rose?
And who, so dead to Nature, can forget
We have not found a genuine Falstaff yet. -

Are we (when thus endued with feelings nice, To hail each virtue, and abhor each vice,) Tamely to sit, and like a muzzled bear, Be flogg'd, and kick’d, for growling at a play?r? Shall we be shackled, if we dare to wind Our bugle horn, and boldly speak our mind? Shall pantomimic rascals, musty knáves, Prescribe to us, and tell us that we're slaves? Shall shadows, mock’ries, phantoms of a night, Mere things that melt before the morning's light, Scảre us away, and push us from our stools, Like Banquo's ghost, and make us look like fools ? Shall such things be ? indeed I fear they must, For poor John Bull, is humbled to the dust. But he will ne'er forget, nor e’er forgive, (For the foul stain, indelible shall live,)

SL

When bruisers, jews, and thieves, a ragged band
The seum, and offscourings of ev'ry land,
Were paid by actors to support their cause, :,
By breaking heads, and breaking sacred laws';
And, if a free-born Briton gave his vote,
Beat him to earth, and fasten'd on his throat..
Such things can never tamely be withstood,
They heat the current of the coldest blood !

o vote,

Was't nobly done monopolists of farce, To treat your patron just like Balaam's ass ;, . And when at length the patient creature spoke, Ruffians ! to fell him with a murd'rous stroke? But, tremble wretches ! and believe the bard, You still shall meet the prophet's dire reward! .

.

.. FINIS.

T. COLLINS, Printer, Harvey's Buildings, Strand, London.