Dear boxes! where I scarce my nose could squeeze,
Where play, and dance, and song were sure to please;
How often happier than a king or queen,
While loud applause has marked the well-play’d scene.
How often have I paused on ev’ry charm,
The speaking silence, the expression warm,
The never-failing start, the gushing tear,
The broken accents trembling on the ear;
The moon that vainly tried to pierce the shade,
Impervious scene for love or murder made;