By your curst cloy of Pantomime, and thrice accursèd
Cat-call for Clown;
“By the pasteboard heads that, beaten in in places,
Smile on in pain,
By sightless eyes and worsted hair, by large, mild faces,—
By Drury Lane;
By all frolic, freak and fooling, food for laughter,
Nor said nor sung,
When next on spouting bent—pity your hereafter,
And hold your tongue!”