The First Night of “Othello.”
I.
Stop: for your tread is on a Poet’s dust!
’Tis Shakespeare, mangled, feels the dreadful blow!
The bubble of that overrated fame has bust!
No critics sing the praises of the slow:—
None; presumptuous player! why don’t you go
Back to the “Bells” or “Diddler”? Can’t you see
The Moor is not your form? ask Mrs. Crowe,
And all true friends; they will agree