‘Q5;

A playhoufe, what a place l-I mull forfwear it;
A little mifchief only makes one bear it.
Such crouds of city-folks ! f0 rude and prefling!
And their horfe-laugh l f0 hideoufly diltrelling.
Whene’er we hifs’d, they frown’d and fell a lwearing,
Like their own Guildhall giants-fierce and flaring!
Col. T. What {aid the folks of falhion ? were they crofs ?
La’. Jilin. The refl: have no more judgment than my horfe.
Illi/i Cro. Lord Grimly {wore ’twas execrable Ftufl".
Says one, why f0, my Lord !--My Lord took fnufl‘.
In the firfi aft Lord George began to doze,
And criticiz’d the author-through his nole 3
So loud, indeed, that, as his Lordlhip fnor’d,
The pit turn’d round, and all the brutes enccr’d.
Ld. Min. We have among us, Mifs, fome fcolifii folks.
Mifi Cro. Says poor Lord Simper—Well, now to my mind
The piece is good ;—but he’s both deaf and blind.
3ir Pat. Upon my foul a very pretty llory l
And quality appears in allits glory!
There was fome merit in the piece no doubt.
Mifi Cro. O, to be fure! ifone could find it out.
Col. T. But tell us, MiG, the {abject of the play.
Mifi Cro. It was a marriage—yes, a marriage-flay!
A Lord, an aunt, two fifiers and a merchant,
A baronet—ten lawyers—a fat ferjeant—
All are produc’d—to talk with one another;
And about fomething make a mighty pother.
They all go in and out, and t0 and fro;
And talk, and quarrel-as they come and go—
Then go to bed, and then get up-and then-
Scream, faint, (cold, kifs—and go to bed again. (All laugh.)
Such is the play-your judgment l never [ham it.
C01. T. Oh damn it!
Mrs.  Damn itl
l]? Lady. Damn it!
Mrfi Cro. Damn it!
LdMin. Damn it l
Sir Pat. Well, faith, you (peak your minds, and I’ll be free-
Good night ! this company’s too good for me. [Going-
Col. T. Your judgment, dear Sir Patrick, makes us proud.

Sir Pat. Laugh if you pleafe, but pray d0n’t laugh too loud.
[Elfito

RECITAT,IVE.

Co]. T. Now the barbarian’s gone, Mifs, tune you tongue,
And let us raife our fpirits high with fong.

“RE-