Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Strictures On Public Amusements.
SURLY exclaims , eat up with gout and spleen , " The Stri pling's well enough , but much too lean ; " He'll be short-liv'd , he has his Mother's cough , " A galloping consumption took her off . " . " Is this Sir J ACOB ' S son ? " Old TOOTHLESS cries— - " The Boy is of a most alarming size ! Such ' monsters be
" pergrown never can strong ; * ' Don ' t tell his father- ^ -but he can't live long . " So when the Bard at first prepares his play , His heart Beats high , and all his' prospect ' s gay ; " 'Tis done , 'tis done , " —th' enraptur'd poet cries , * ' The labour ' s over , I shall grasp the prize , " SNARLER , upon whose word 1 can depend , ,
" SNARI . ES siiaiisee it- —he's indeed a friend . " How do you like my piece , good Critic , say ? " Nay , do not flatter—Don ' t you like the play ?"" Why , yes , sir—Eh—the thing is well etaough . "" Is it not good ?"— " Humph , yes—What cursed stuff . " ,-" 1 think , my friend , the playhouse will be cramm'd . " " I think so too—and think your play'll be damn'd . " At length the nightthe awful night
, ensues , , Fatal to many an offspring of the Muse j The Father bids his fancy's child appear , And hopes to meet no friendly Srarler here ; Moral his Boy , if entertaining too , His fortune's fairly made when judg'd by you .
Epilogue.
EPILOGUE .
' . ' BY GEORGE COLMAN , JUN . ES ( J . IN days of yore , when Kniehts were c ^ s'd in n . a ' . l . Like lobsters in a § hcll , from head to tail ; When ' sparring Nobles challenged to the lists , , Deem'd it ignoble e ' er to spar with fists ; Stout were their limbs , and sturdy were their blows—m They met , were slain , or else they slew their foes .
In modern Challenges , how heroes dwindle ; In arms they're nothing—and in legs they're spindle ! And ah ! how shocking to a Peer of old , Some Pugilistic Noble to behold ? Who , when one brute his brother brute opposes ^ Stands Umpire of black eyes and bloody noses ! : How would the champions , clad in iron suits , Stare at our champions in round hats and boots !
Stare to see Jacky giye his'card 10 Bobby , And 'Prentice challenge . Prentice in the Lobby , That such things are we witness ev'ry day , When' heroes quit the Counter for the Play ; When Green Box errants hurl the sharp retort , Eager for fame , and hot with . Bf Ay ? ov's port ! f Vfht are yo , u , Sir ?"— " Who ain I ?—why I ' m—phop j '' The World knows me , Sir—Damme , who are you I Meet ine to in de Park
" -morrow morning Hy , " I ' m Mr . PLUME the banker ' s fifteenth clerk . " Oh ! may thes ? warriors of the desk and quill Pursue their petty broils , and challenge still ; Of such contentions wholesome be the fruit !' And duelling be brought to disrepute . ' May Englishman no Englishman oppose , But wield his sword against yir c / mmonfoes ! :
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Strictures On Public Amusements.
SURLY exclaims , eat up with gout and spleen , " The Stri pling's well enough , but much too lean ; " He'll be short-liv'd , he has his Mother's cough , " A galloping consumption took her off . " . " Is this Sir J ACOB ' S son ? " Old TOOTHLESS cries— - " The Boy is of a most alarming size ! Such ' monsters be
" pergrown never can strong ; * ' Don ' t tell his father- ^ -but he can't live long . " So when the Bard at first prepares his play , His heart Beats high , and all his' prospect ' s gay ; " 'Tis done , 'tis done , " —th' enraptur'd poet cries , * ' The labour ' s over , I shall grasp the prize , " SNARLER , upon whose word 1 can depend , ,
" SNARI . ES siiaiisee it- —he's indeed a friend . " How do you like my piece , good Critic , say ? " Nay , do not flatter—Don ' t you like the play ?"" Why , yes , sir—Eh—the thing is well etaough . "" Is it not good ?"— " Humph , yes—What cursed stuff . " ,-" 1 think , my friend , the playhouse will be cramm'd . " " I think so too—and think your play'll be damn'd . " At length the nightthe awful night
, ensues , , Fatal to many an offspring of the Muse j The Father bids his fancy's child appear , And hopes to meet no friendly Srarler here ; Moral his Boy , if entertaining too , His fortune's fairly made when judg'd by you .
Epilogue.
EPILOGUE .
' . ' BY GEORGE COLMAN , JUN . ES ( J . IN days of yore , when Kniehts were c ^ s'd in n . a ' . l . Like lobsters in a § hcll , from head to tail ; When ' sparring Nobles challenged to the lists , , Deem'd it ignoble e ' er to spar with fists ; Stout were their limbs , and sturdy were their blows—m They met , were slain , or else they slew their foes .
In modern Challenges , how heroes dwindle ; In arms they're nothing—and in legs they're spindle ! And ah ! how shocking to a Peer of old , Some Pugilistic Noble to behold ? Who , when one brute his brother brute opposes ^ Stands Umpire of black eyes and bloody noses ! : How would the champions , clad in iron suits , Stare at our champions in round hats and boots !
Stare to see Jacky giye his'card 10 Bobby , And 'Prentice challenge . Prentice in the Lobby , That such things are we witness ev'ry day , When' heroes quit the Counter for the Play ; When Green Box errants hurl the sharp retort , Eager for fame , and hot with . Bf Ay ? ov's port ! f Vfht are yo , u , Sir ?"— " Who ain I ?—why I ' m—phop j '' The World knows me , Sir—Damme , who are you I Meet ine to in de Park
" -morrow morning Hy , " I ' m Mr . PLUME the banker ' s fifteenth clerk . " Oh ! may thes ? warriors of the desk and quill Pursue their petty broils , and challenge still ; Of such contentions wholesome be the fruit !' And duelling be brought to disrepute . ' May Englishman no Englishman oppose , But wield his sword against yir c / mmonfoes ! :