LYCEUM LYRICS
(After Ben Jonson.)
It is not being underlined,
Six months that leaves the rest behind;
Or standing long a joke that makes us here
Less valued by the public eye and ear.
The “super” in his way
Is happier, so they say,
Although he fights for eighteenpence a night,
Than he who has talents he can’t bring to light;
In small proportions we tragedians see
Who can attain what they would like to be.
(After Herrick.)
Gather your laurels whilst ye may,
The season on is flying,
And make your audience smile to-day,
To-morrow set them crying.
A good tragedian, when there’s one,
Much money may be getting,
But longer dramas have a run
The nearer he’s to fretting.
(After Lovelace.)
Large type does not an actor make,
Nor theatre-walls a cage,
Minds unambitious then may take
The salary they engage.
If I can’t get the parts I love,
At least, let me be free,
Another theatre yet may prove
My right to liberty.
—Fun, 1863.
