(With humblest apologies to Randolph St. John, Gent.)
L. Theobald, Jun.
Before our sight your mobile face
Depicts your joys or woes distracting;
We marvel at your winsome grace—
And wish you'd learn the art of acting!
Your eyes, we vow, surpass the stars;
Your mouth is like the bow of Cupid;
Your rose-ting'd cheeks no wrinkle mars—
Yet why are you so sweetly stupid?
The hero views you with delight,
To win your hand forever working;
We pity him—the witless wight—
To fall a victim to your smirking!
And yet, why should we wail in rhyme
Because so crudely you dissemble?
We can't expect for one small dime,
To see a Woffington or Kemble!