Classic Poem

Widow W — ks came, of late, in a terrible rage,
To the other old ladies , joint props of her stage:
Hear me, sisters , she cry'd — I pronounce a decree ,
We'll have no more new Tragedies — take that from me .
When we make the town laugh , I'm as merry , as they,
But, I'm ten times more sad , at a grave losing play .
Never tell me of sense — it has cost me a fall ,
And, if nonsense befriends not, I'm sure to lose all .

Well, well, cry'd J — k E — l — s , and shrug'd, with a sneer ,
Tho' you'll give 'em no Tragedy , what shou'd you fear?
Say, when ask'd, why 'twas done, your next benefit night,
Nature form'd you for farce — and they'll swear you say right .