However feeble our theatric powers,
Our well-meant efforts to amuse awhile,
Will meet the wish’d reward—your fav’ring smile.
For tho’, while thro’ our parts we swell and pant,
We stun your ears with mock-heroic rant;
We trust “to pay their suff’rings through your eyes,”
By the bright splendours of the gay disguise
In which our heroes (nor let critics grin),
Bedight in robes of “bunting laced with tin,”
As kings or emperors, with mimic rage,