More than content with what my labours gain,
Of public favour though a little vain,
Yet not so vain my mind, so madly bent,
To wish to play the fool in Parliament;
In each dramatic unity to err,
Mistaking time and place and character.
Were it my fate to quit the mimic art,
I'd strut and fret no more in any part;
No more in public scenes would I engage,
Or wear the cap and mask on any stage.