You, who each day can theatres behold,
Like Nero's palace, shining all with gold,
Our mean ungilded stage will scorn, we fear,
And, for the homely room, disdain the chear.
}
Yet now cheap druggets to a mode are grown, }
And a plain suit, since we can make but one, }
Is better than to be by tarnished gawdry known. }
They, who are by your favours wealthy made,
With mighty sums may carry on the trade;