Ille velut fidis aroana sodalibus olim
Credebat libris; neque si male cesserat, usquam
Decurrens alio, neque si bene.—Horat.
My pensive public, wherefore look you sad?
I had a grandmother, she kept a donkey
To carry to the mart her crockery ware,
And when that donkey look'd me in the face,
His face was sad! and you are sad, my public!
Joy should be yours: this tenth day of October
Again assembles us in Drury Lane.