Too rapidly the moments pass;
At length in haste the prompter sends.
And tears Kynaston from his friends;
Tho’ he’d much rather there remain,
He hurries on to Drury Lane.
When in the green-room he appear’d,
He scar’d them with his bushy beard,
The barber quick his razor strops,
And lather’d well her royal chops:
While he the stubble mow’d away,