The next place (which Bobby has near lost his heart in)
They call it the Play-house—I think—of St. Martin;
Quite charming—and very religious—what folly
To say that the French are not pious, dear Dolly,
When here one beholds, so correctly and rightly,
The Testament turned into melodrames nightly;
And, doubtless, so fond they’re of scriptural facts,
They will soon get the Pentateuch up in five acts.
Here Daniel, in pantomime, bids bold defiance
To Nebuchadnezzar and all his stuff’d lions,