Classic Poem

Spoke by Mrs C LIVE .

Silence— sit down , Sirs— hats off — that will do—
I know, you love a joke , if it be new ;
You smart ones of the pit —I speak to YOU ,
Criticks —mistake me not, for I protest ,
Not one of you are aim'd at in the jest ,
But, I perceive, among you, some of those,
Our author has, to night, thought fit t' expose ,
You, Virtuosi — Connoisseurs —and Beaux .
A poet may—by just Dramatic laws ,
Except against such jurors in his cause,
As parties , in the suit .—His humble prayer ,
Is therefore only to the wise , and fair ,
For this first fault, the criminal you'd spare .
'Tis from the life , his characters are shewn,
You're, first, invited here—then pencil'd down :
They, only , are to blame —who will the likeness own .
As for example—here's my Lord and I ,
Perhaps, this circle may'nt the like supply;
O, yes, it does!—I have you, in my eye !
And, gad,—you're no unfashionable pair ,
But, hush —fit still —you own it, if you stir .
In Araminta ! pha!— ill-judging creature!
He has not hit you; in one single feature :
To make her, squeamishly , reject a lover ,
When ev'ry trial , that cou'd shock , was over ,
And nought remain'd , but what, with joy , shou'd move her.
She is no woman , faith—who, in that station ,
Cou'd run the dangerous risk —of hesitation:
Gad!—we're for no such ticklish situation!
Give us a certainty , however small ,
It must be better , sure!—than none at all .
But hold—what need have I, such truths to tell?
You penetrating devils — you know't , too well.
Next—of our author's humour, wit, and plot,
Style, chaste expression, and—I know not what:
I saw, how 'twas—and faith—I ask'd him, plainly ,
If he propos'd success , from being cleanly ?
I bid him, here and there , throw in a scene,
(But, pray says I—take care, 'tis wrapt up clean ,)
Of something, psha!—you all know, what I mean .
I own, I blush'd ,—but he blush'd more , than I,
And said—if I can tell you—let me die.
What do you think the silly creature said?
That his chaste muse had yet—her maidenhead ,
And should not be a prostitute , egad.
But now—I have a word, or two, to say
To you, who feel the satire of the Play:
What! you expect—that I should court your favour ,
Curt'sy and pray ;—I scorn such poor behaviour:
Don't you all know , when you, with us, dispute ,
We have an argument to strike you mute ?
And, as friend Bays has said—look to't—we'll do't.
Then yeild , at once—nor, 'gainst our poet , thunder;
I'll try, if you , or I , will be kept under .