Fir'd with difguft, I loath his fervile plan,
Defpife the mimic, and abhor the man.
Go to the lame, to hofpitals repair,
And hunt for humour in diftortions there!
Fill up the measure of the motley whim
With fhrug, wink, fnuffe, and convulfive limb;
Then shame at once, to please a trifling age,
Good fenfe, good manners, virtue and the ftage!
'Tis not enough the voice be found and clear,
'Tis modulation that muft charm the ear.
When desperate heroines grieve with tedious moan,
And whine their forrows in a fee-faw tone,
The fame foft founds of unimpaffion'd woes

Can only make the yawning hearers doze.

The voice all modes of paffion can exprefs That marks the proper words with proper stress.. But none emphatic can that actor call,

Who lays an equal emphasis on all.

Some o'er the tongue the labour'd measures roll

Slow and delib'rate as the parting toll,

Point ev'ry ftop, mark ev'ry paufe fo ftrong,
Their words, like ftage-proceffions, stalk along.
All affectation but creates difguft,

And e'en in fpeaking we may feem too juft.

Nor proper, Thornton, can those founds appear
Which bring not numbers to thy nicer ear:
In vain for them the pleafing meafure flows,
Whofe recitation runs it all to profe;
Repeating what the poet fet not down,
The verb disjointing from its friendly noun,
While paufe, and break, and repetition join
To make a difcord in each tuneful line,

Some placid natures fill th' allotted fcene-
While lifelefs drone, infipid and ferene;
With others thunder ev'ry couplet o'er.
And almoft crack your ears with rant and roar.
More nature oft and finer ftrokes are shown,,
In the low whisper than tempestuous tone.
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixt amaze,
More powerful terror to the mind conveys,
Than he, who fwol'n with big impetuous rage,
Bullies the bulky phantom off the ftage.

He, who in earnest studies o'er his part,
Will find true nature cling about his heart..
The modes of grief are not included all

In the white handkerchief and mournful draw];

A fingle look more marks th' internal woe,
Than all the windings of the lengthen'doh.

Up to the face the quick fenfation flies,

And darts its meaning from the fpeaking eyes!

ove,

Love, transport, madness, anger, fcorn, despair,
And all the paffions, all the foul is there.

In vain Ophelia gives her flowrets round,
And with her straws fantastic ftrews the ground,
In vain now fings, now heaves the defperate figh,
If phrenzy fit not in the troubled eye.

In Cibber's look commanding forrows speak,
And call the tear faft trickling down my cheek.
There is a fault which stirs the critic's rage;

A want of due attention on the stage.

I have seen actors, and admir'd ones too,
Whofe tongues wound up fet forward from their cue;
In their own speech who whine or roar away,
Yet feem unmov'd at what the reft may fay;
Whofe eyes and thoughts on diff'rent objects roam,
Until the prompter's voice recal them home.
Diveft yourself of hearers, if you can,
And strive to fpeak, and be the very man.
Why should the well bred actor with to know
Who fits above to-night, or who below?
So 'mid th'harmonious tones of grief or rage,.
Italian fquallers oft difgrace the ftage ;'
When, with a fimp'ring leer, and bow profound,
The fqueaking Cyrus greets the boxes round;
Or proud Mandane, of imperial race,
Familiar drops a curt'fie to her grace.

To fuit the dress demands the actor's art,
Yet there are those who over-dress the part.
To fome prefcriptive right gives fettled things,
Black wigs to murd'rers, feather'd hats to kings:
But Michael Caffio might be drunk enough,
Tho' all his features were not grimm'd with fnuff..
Why should Poll Peachum fhine in fattin clothes?
Why ev'ry devil dance in fcarlet hofe?

But in ftage-customs what offends me mo

Is the flip-door, and flowly-rising ghoft..
Tell me, nor count the question too fevere,

Why need the difmal powder'd forms appear?
When chilling horrors shake th' affrighted king,
And guilt torments him with her fcorpion fting;
When keeneft feelings at his bofom pull,
And fancy tells him that the feat is full;
Why need the ghoft ufurp the monarch's place,.
To frighten children with his mealy face?
The king alone should form the phantom there,
And talk and tremble at the vacant chair..
If Belvidera her lo/'d lofs deplore,
Why for twin fpe&res burfis the yawning floor?
When with diforder'd starts, and horrid cries,
She paints the murder'd forms before her eyes,

And

And ftill pursues them with a frantic ftare,
Tis pregnant madness brings the vifions there.
More inftant horror would enforce the fcene,
If all her fhudd'rings were at shapes unfeen.
Poet and actor thus with blended skill,
Mould all our paffions to their instant will ;
'Tis thus, when feeling Garrick treads the ftage,
(The speaking comment of his Shakespear's page)
Oft as I drink the words with greedy ears,,

I shake with horror, or diffolve with tears.

O ne'er may folly feize the throne of taste,
Nor dulnefs lay the realms of genius waste!
No bouncing crackers ape the thund'rer's fire,
No tumbler float upon the bending wire!
More natural ufes to the ftage belong,
Than tumblers, monsters, pantomime, or fong.
For other purpose was that spot defign'd:
To purge the paffions, and reform the mind,

To give to nature all the force of art,
And while it charms the ear to mend the heart..
Thornton, to thee, I dare with truth commend,
The decent ftage as virtue's natural friend.
Tho' oft de bas'd with fcenes profane and loose,
No reafon weighs against its proper ufe.
Tho' the lewd prieft his facred function fhame,
Religion's perfect law is ftill the fame.

Shall they, who trace the paffions from their rife.
Shew fcorn her features, her own image vice?
Who teach the mind its proper force to fcan,
And hold the faithful mirror up to man,!
Shall their profeffion e'er provoke difdain,.
Who ftand the foremoft in the mortal train,
Who lend reflection all the grace of art,
And ftrike the precept home upon the heart?
Yet, hapless artift! tho' thy skill can raife
The bursting peal of universal 'praife,
Tho' at thy beck applaufe delighted stands,
And lifts, Briareus' like, h hundred hands,
Know, fame awards thee but a partial breath!
Not all thy talents brave the ftroke of death..
Poets to ages yet unborn appeal,

And lateft times th' eternal nature feel..

Tho' blended here the praife of bard and play't,

While more than half becomes the actor's fhare,.
Relentless death untwifts the mingled fame,

And finks the player in the poet's name.

The pliant mufcles of the various face,

The mien that gave each fentence ftrength & grace,
The tuneful voice, the eye that spoke the mind,

Are gone, nor leave a fingle trace behind.

POETICAL

POETICAL GENEALOGY and DESCRIPTION of MERIT.、

TRUE Merit was the fon of Virtue and Honour; there was likewife a spurious child, who ufur

ped the name, and whofe parents were Vanity and Impudence. At a distance there was a great refemblance between them, and they were often mistaken for each other. The baftard issue had a loud fhrill voice, which was perpetually employed in cravings and complaints; while the other never spoke louder than a whisper, and was often so bashful, that he could not speak at all. In all great affemblies the falfe Merit would step before the true, and stand juft in his way; was conftantly at Court, or great men's levees, or whifpering in fome minifter's ear. The more you fed him, the more hungry and importunate he grew. He often paffed for the true fon of Virtue and Honour and the genuine for an impoftor. He was born diftorted and a dwarf, but by force of art appeared of a handsome shape, and taller than the usual fize; and none but those who were wife and good, as well as vigilant, could difcover his littleness or deformity. True Merit had been often forced to the indig nity of applying to the falfe, for his credit with thofe in power, and to keep himself from starving. Falfe Merit filled the anti-chambers with a crew of his dependants and creatures, fuch as projectors, fchematifts, occafional converts to a party, prostitute flatterers, & arveling writers, buf foons, fhallow politicians, empty orators, and the like; who all owned him for their patron, and grew difcontented, if they were not immediately fed.

THIS word is often made the fanction of an oath; it is reckoned to be a great commendation to

be a ftrict man of honour; and it is commonly understood, that a man of honour can never be guilty of a bafe action. This is ufually the ftyle of military men, of perfons with titles, and of others who pretend to birth and quality. 'Tis true indeed, that in antient times it was univerfally understood, that honour was the reward of virtue; but if fuch honour, as is now a-days going, will not permit a man to do a bafe action, it must be allowed there are very few fuch things as bafe actions in nature. No man of honour, as that word is ufually underfood, did, ever pretend that his honour obliged him to be chaßte or temperate, to pay his creditors, to be useful to his country, to do good to mankind, to endeavour to be wife or learned, to regard his word, his promife, or his oath: or, if he had any of thefe virtues, they were never learned in the catechifm of honour, which contains but two precepts, the punctual payments of debts contracted at play, and the right understanding the feveral degrees of an affront, in order to revenge it by the death of an adversary.

But fuppofe the principle of honour, which fome men fo much boaft of, did really produce more virtues than it ever pretended to ; yet fince the very being of that honour depended upon the breath, the opinion, or the fancy of the people. the virtues derived from it could be of no long or cer tain duration.

For example: fuppofe a man, from a principle of honour, fhould refolve to be juft, or chafte, or temperate, and yet the cenfuring world should take a humour of refufing him thofe characters, he would then think the obligation at an end. Or, on the other fide, if he thought he could gain honour by the falfcft and vileft action (which is a cafe that very often happens) he would then make no fcruple to perform it. And God knows, it would be an unhappy ftate, to have the reLigion, the liberty, or the property of a people lodged infuch hands; which however has been too often the cafe.

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