Thus a beau I have seen strut with a cock'd hat,
And newly rigg'd out, with a dirty cravat.

You may think that you make a figure most shining,
But it's plain that you have an old cloak for a lining.
Are those double gilt nails? Where's the lustre of Kerry,
To set off the knight, and to finish the Jerry?

If you hope I'll be kind, you must tell me what's due
In George's lane for you, ere I'll buckle to.

CHAR. Why, how now, Doll Diamond, you're very alert;
Is it your French breeding has made you so pert?

Because I was civil, here's a stir with a pox:

Who is it that values your

—or your fox? Sure 'tis to her honor, he ever should bed

His bloody red hand to her bloody red head.

You're proud of your gilding; but I tell you each nail
Is only [just] tinged with a rub at her tail;

And although it may pass for gold on each ninny,
Sure we know a Bath shilling soon from a guinea.
Nay, her foretop's a cheat; each morn she does black it,
Yet, ere it be night, it's the same with her placket.
I'll ne'er be run down any more with your cant;
Your velvet was wore before in a mant,

On the back of her mother; but now 'tis much duller,-
The fire she carries hath changed its color.

Those creatures that draw me you never would mind,
If you'd but look on your own Pharaoh's lean kine;
They're taken for spectres, they're so meagre and spare,
Drawn damnably low by your sorrel mare.

We know how your lady was in you befriended;
You're not to be paid for 'till the lawsuit is ended:

But her bond it is good, he need not to doubt;

She is two or three years above being out.

Could my knight be advised, he should ne'er spend his vigor On one he can't hope of e'er making bigger.

A DIALOGUE

BETWEEN SIR WILLIAM HANDCOCK AND THADY FITZPATRICK, IN THE DEVIL'S ANTECHAMBER.

THADY.

YOU'RE welcome, sir William, by my soul and salvation,

I rejoice for to see one from my own nation.

We have long wanted news: was it growing wealthy

Has made all my brothers so damnable healthy?

When I think of their number, I look for them faster;

Sure they are not grown honest, and quitted their master.
Come, never look squeamish, nor be out of order,

We're here on a level, good master Recorder.

Let me know what has pass'd, and you'll find I'll be civil,

SIR WILLIAM.

Oh, thank you, dear Thady, and must own, for my part,
It's much more your goodness than it is my desert;
But, to speak for his fee, you know, 'twas our calling:
Which because I could not, I then fell a bawling.

I never stuck out to quote a false case:

And to back it, I e'er had an impudent face;
Or on my right hand I had always my brother,
To vouch, which we still did, the one for the other.
To be sure, to be rich was always my guide;
To take, when I could, a fee on each side.
All this you well know. But, pr'ythee, now tell
If I have any more acquaintance in hell.
Is not that Tullamore?

TH. You see how he trudges
At the head of a shoal of unrighteous judges.
By oppression and cheating, by rapine and lust,
We shall in good time have the rest of the trust.
But our master, the devil, has solemnly swore,
Till they're out of commission, not to admit more.
If you speak me but fair, you shall not go far

To meet with your friends of the bench or the bar:

Look at Reynolds, and Lyndon, and Whitshed, and Keating The four rogues are all got together a prating.

SIR W. Pr'ythee, where is fat Hely? I durst lay my life That he's got to heaven by help of his wife.

TH. You'll ever be urging a reason that's faint;

If that would have done, we might each be a saint.
But what is become of sir Toby and Stephen?
There's neither of them, I am sure, gone to heaven.
Does your brother as yet speak law in a cause;
And has Pauca left off making use of his claws?
Does the bar from the bench with patience still pocket
The calling them rogue, and rascal, and blockhead?

SIR W. Faith, Thady, our judges are grown very humble; And one is suspicious he'll soon have a tumble.

The new ones they keep the old ones in awe,

And have taught them civility, prudence, and law.

TH. Pox take me, sir William, why was not I asking, All this time you've been here, for poor Clara Gascoyne? The woman that lay so long by my side;

But I show'd I forgot her before that I died.

I believe she's unmarried, for I think I took care

To leave her but little, and much to my heir.

SIR W. She still is thy widow, thou barbarous teague;

Both living and dead, thou'st to her been a plague;

It's not for that sin that I am come here,

Having left all the wealth I had to my dear.

TH. That thou e'er wert a blockhead you need not now own, But this thy last action all others does crown; Thou scarce wert got hither, thou pitiful cully, Before she had gotten a lusty young bully; I have of our master a proverb to tell you;

BILLET TO A COMPANY OF PLAYERS.

The enclosed prologue is formed upon the story of the secretary's not allowing you to act, unless you would pay him 3007. per annum; upon which you got a licence from the lord-mayor to act as strollers.

THE PROLOGUE.

OUR set of strollers, wandering up and down,
Hearing the house was empty, came to town;
And, with a licence from our good lord-mayor,
Went to one Griffith, formerly a player:
Him we persuaded, with a moderate bribe,
To speak to Elrington and all the tribe,
To let our company supply their places,

And hire us out their scenes, and clothes, and faces.
Is not the truth the truth? Look full on me;
I am not Elrington, nor Griffith he.

When we perform, look sharp among our crew,
There's not a creature here you ever knew.
The former folks were servants to the king;
We, humble strollers, always on the wing.
Now, for my part, I think, upon the whole,
Rather than starve, a better man would stroll.
Stay! let me see-Three hundred pounds a year,
For leave to act in town! — 'Tis plaguy dear,
Now, here's a warrant; gallants, please to mark,
For three thirteens, and sixpence to the clerk.
Three hundred pounds! Were I the price to fix,
The public should bestow the actors six ;
A score of guineas given underhand,
For a good word or so, we understand.
To help an honest lad that's out of place
May cost a crown or so; a common case:
And in a crew 'tis no injustice thought
To ship a rogue and pay him not a groat.
But, in the chronicles of former ages,
Who ever heard of servants paying wages?
I pity Elrington with all my heart;
Would he were here this night to act my part;
I told him what it was to be a stroller;
How free we acted, and had no comptroller:

In every town we wait on Mr. Mayor,
First get a licence, then produce our ware;
We sound a trumpet, or we beat a drum:

Huzza! (the schoolboys roar) the players are come;
And then we cry, to spur the bumpkins on,
Gallants, by Tuesday next we must be gone.
I told him in the smoothest way I could
All this, and more, yet it would do no good.
But Elrington, tears falling from his cheeks,
He that has shone with Betterton and Wilks,
To whom our country has been always dear,

Owns all your favors, here intends to stay,
And as a stroller act in every play:

And the whole crew this resolution takes,
To live and die all strollers for your sakes;
Not frighted with an ignominious name,
For your displeasure is their only shame.
A pox on Elrington's majestic tone!
Now to a word of business in our own.

Gallants, next Thursday night will be our last:
Then without fail we pack up for Belfast.
Lose not your time, nor our diversion miss;
The next we act shall be as good as this.

EPILOGUE

TO MR. HOPPY'S BENEFIT-NIGHT, AT SMOCK-ALLEY.

HOLD! hold, my good friends; for one moment pray stop ye; I return ye my thanks in the name of poor Hoppy.

He's not the first person who never did write,

And yet has been fed by a benefit-night.

The custom is frequent, on my word I assure ye,
In our famed elder house, of the hundreds of Drury.
But then you must know, those players still act on
Some very good reasons for such benefaction.

A deceased poet's widow, if pretty, can't fail;
From Cibber she holds, as a tenant in tail.

Your emerited actors, and actresses too,

For what they have done, (though no more they can do,)
And sitters, and songsters, and Chetwood and G————,
And sometimes a poor sufferer in the South Sea;

A machine-man, a tire-woman, a mute, and a sprite,
Have been all kept from starving by a benefit-night.

Thus, for Hoppy's bright merits, at length we have found
That he must have of us ninety-nine and one pound,
Paid to him clear money once every year:

And however some think it a little too dear,
Yet, for reasons of state, this sum we'll allow,

Though we pay the good man with the sweat of our brow.
First, because by the king to us he was sent,

To guide the whole session of this parliament.
To preside in our councils, both public and private.
And so learn, by the by, what both houses do drive at.
When bold B- roars, and meek M- raves,
When Ash prates by wholesale, or B-h by halves,
When Whigs become Whims, or join with the Tories,
And to himself constant when a member no more is,
But changes his sides, and votes and unvotes;
As S-t is dull, and with S-d, who dotes;
Then up must get Hoppy, and with voice very low,

BILLET TO A COMPANY OF PLAYERS.

The enclosed prologue is formed upon the story of the secretary's not allowing you to act, unless you would pay him 3007. per annum; upon which you got a licence from the lord-mayor to act as strollers.

THE PROLOGUE.

OUR set of strollers, wandering up and down,
Hearing the house was empty, came to town;
And, with a licence from our good lord-mayor,
Went to one Griffith, formerly a player:
Him we persuaded, with a moderate bribe,
To speak to Elrington and all the tribe,
To let our company supply their places,

And hire us out their scenes, and clothes, and faces.
Is not the truth the truth? Look full on me;
I am not Elrington, nor Griffith he.

When we perform, look sharp among our crew,
There's not a creature here you ever knew.
The former folks were servants to the king;
We, humble strollers, always on the wing.
Now, for my part, I think, upon the whole,
Rather than starve, a better man would stroll.
Stay! let me see - Three hundred pounds a year,
For leave to act in town! 'Tis plaguy dear,
Now, here's a warrant; gallants, please to mark,
For three thirteens, and sixpence to the clerk.
Three hundred pounds! Were I the price to fix,
The public should bestow the actors six;
A score of guineas given underhand,
For a good word or so, we understand.
To help an honest lad that's out of place
May cost a crown or so; a common case:
And in a crew 'tis no injustice thought
To ship a rogue and pay him not a groat.
But, in the chronicles of former ages,
Who ever heard of servants paying wages?
I pity Elrington with all my heart;
Would he were here this night to act my part;
I told him what it was to be a stroller;
How free we acted, and had no comptroller:

In every town we wait on Mr. Mayor,
First get a licence, then produce our ware;
We sound a trumpet, or we beat a drum :

Huzza! (the schoolboys roar) the players are come;
And then we cry, to spur the bumpkins on,
Gallants, by Tuesday next we must be gone.
I told him in the smoothest way I could
All this, and more, yet it would do no good.
But Elrington, tears falling from his cheeks,
He that has shone with Betterton and Wilks,
To whom our country has been always dear,