At first I caught hold of the wing,
And kept away; but Mr. Thing-
um bob, the prompter man,
Gave with his hand my chaise a shove,
And said, “Go on, my pretty love;
Speak to ’em, little Nan.
“You’ve only got to curtsey, whisp-
er, hold your chin up, laugh, and lisp,
And then you’re sure to take:
I’ve known the day when brats, not quite
Thirteen, got fifty pounds a night; [8]
Then why not Nancy Lake?”
But while I’m speaking, where’s papa?
And where’s my aunt? and where’s mamma?
Where’s Jack? O, there they sit!
They smile, they nod; I’ll go my ways,
And order round poor Billy’s chaise,
To join them in the pit.
And now, good gentlefolks, I go
To join mamma, and see the show;
So, bidding you adieu,
I curtsey, like a pretty miss,
And if you’ll blow to me a kiss,
I’ll blow a kiss to you.
[Blows a kiss and exit.
III.
AN ADDRESS WITHOUT A PHŒNIX. [10a]
By S. T. P. [10b]
“This was looked for at your hand, and this was balked.”
What You Will.
What stately vision mocks my waking sense?
Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment, hence!
Ha! is it real?—can my doubts be vain?
It is, it is, and Drury lives again!
Around each grateful veteran attends,
Eager to rush and gratulate his friends,
Friends whose kind looks, retraced with proud delight,
Endear the past, and make the future bright:
Yes, generous patrons, your returning smile
Blesses our toils, and consecrates our pile.