With Drurys for sartin we’ll never have done,
We’ve built up another, and yet there’s but one;
The old one was best, yet I’d say, if I durst,
The new one is better—the last is the first.
Tol de rol, &c.
These pillars are call’d by a Frenchified word,
A something that’s jumbled of antique and verd;
The boxes may show us some verdant antiques,
Some old harridans who beplaster their cheeks.
Tol de rol, &c.
IV.
Only look how high Tragedy, Comedy, stick,
Lest their rivals, the horses, should give them a kick!
If you will not descend when our authors beseech ye,
You’ll stop there for life, for I’m sure they can’t reach ye.
Tol de rol, &c.
V.
Each one shilling god within reach of a nod is,
And plain are the charms of each gallery goddess—
You, Brandy-fac’d Moll, don’t be looking askew,
When I talk’d of a goddess I didn’t mean you.