Classic Poem

If fame and ambition is sought by a play,
Let an author attend to the voice of the day;
No matter if Reason forbids not to write,
Let Fancy design, and let Folly indite;
Throw Judgment aside, and give Scandal the reins,
And as for proud Virtue , n'er trouble the brains:
Then now for the sable , if any there need,
To make up a delicate dramatic creed;
Let love be the choice, when you build for success,
Be this the main prop where is laid the most stress.
Tho' my lady's advanc'd in th' tablet of age,
She retains the dear thought that she still can engage;
And, oh! the dear miss, you ne'er can offend her,
Nor doubt that she'll blush at a double entendre ;
For a dear little bauble, the slutt'ring fan,
Can hide a sweet face from the creature call'd man.
Should her bosom betray a tender desire,
The rebe! can cool and allay the soft fire.
Whether tragic or comic you dare to engage,
Let the hero or lady be equal in rage;
When frantic and wild , dash a start in between,
And looks full of phrenzy will heighten the scene;
This is certain to draw applause from above,
For gods are e'en partial to mortals in love;
Then bring them to sense by a mutual embrace,
And a pause — with an oh ! — goes off with a grace:
Then seek th' performers where abilities shine,
Whose powers can make almost nothing divine.
For figure and gait , endeavour for Palmer ,
The ladies have long proclaim'd him a charmer.
Next Lewis , or Smith, Holman, Cambray , or Pope ,
Can vary the passions, and give them their scope.
Have beauty , be sure, to adorn all the belles —
Chuse Farren at one house, at t'other have Wells ;
Then Inchbald and Crouch , or frolicksome Martyr ,
They each can ensure a star and a garter.
With forces like these, dare the critics rebel?
No! — beauty's sweet magic their darts can repel:
When this is compleat, compound them together,
And scrawl and address by the help of a feather;
Direct all the points by invisible art,
To usher a blush, or to flutter the heart.
Matilda will feign that 'tis monstrous amiss,
And wonder Lord Jemmy attempts not to hiss;
My lord begs her pardon for being so mute,
And seals up her lips by a tender salute:
Again he attempts, when her eyes says he may,
And in raptures they clap ev'ry act of the play .
Last, with orders be sure the house is well cramm'd,
And fifty to one that the piece is not damn'd .