THE IDEAL DRAMA.
Oh think what a change would soon be wrought
In sins society now condones,
Were virtue and honesty properly taught
By Comedy's smiles and Tragedy's groans!
The peer, the scholar, the fool, the fop,
Could learn deportment, high-class, tip-top,
From a Dancing Girl in a Bauble Shop—
At least so thinks Mr. H. A. Jones.
We shall call it "the work," and not "the play,"
When due solemnity prompts the tones
Of serious actors, more grave than gay;
They may be bores, but they won't be drones.
So learn, should you wish to have a spree,
What your Criterion ought to be,
Or the Tempter will put you up a Tree.
Hear eloquent Mr. H. A. Jones!
Amusement? What! Do you dare to think
That those respectable classic crones,
Melpomene, Thalia, they should sink
To make you laugh, like a nigger Bones?
If you should expect to be amused,
Your money would simply be refused,
And you would be turned away, abused
By furious Mr. H. A. Jones.
