The Covent Garden Theatre, or Pasquin Turn'd Drawcansir

by Charles Macklin

Hyd. S^r: I have known him fright a whole Box of Ladies into Fits with One blast of his Voice; drive the whole Party of an Author’s Friends out of the Pit, with the tremendous Courage of a few Oaths; and have frequently heard him harangue an Audience on a first night with as much Applause as every Tully did the Romans— Sir Roger this is y^e Celebrated Seignior Pasquin.

S^r. Rog: Hum! dam me he looks like Mahomet Charratha going to dance the Rope. harkee Seignior— what is this Medley of yours? this Covent Garden Theatre? Is it in Italian?

Pas: No, Sir.

S^r. Rog: In French?

Pas: Neither Sir.

S^r. Rog: Neither— Why what the Devil Language is it in then?

Pas: English Sir.

S^r. Rog: English! Zounds I never heard of any English Farce with Greek Chorus’s before. I reckon it is damn’d low Stuff.

Q Scrib: That it is I’ll answer for it before I see it.

S^r. Rog: Harkee, Seignor, be it Tragedy or Farce I don’t Care a Hare’s Scut, so there is but Fun in it. but none of your French Fricassies according to Rule! haux, haux, my honies; give us a fair Burst of Fun, my dear, & we’ll follow you for fifty nights end-ways, haux, haux, something of the Antients now— Something of a— a— old Shakespear, or Horace, or Homer, or Ben Johnson, as they have at Drury Lane. do you hear— Something that way & I’ll engage it takes. but if it is any of your New Moral Stuff, according to Rule, I shall Tip it a dead Hollow, (Hollows) think of that and be dull if you dare.