The old sham play of Poverty,
Pushed just once more
Upon the public boards. An awful bore!”
So (whilst we starve) the well-fed idlers scoff
At the spoilt tragedy, and cry, “Off! Off!”
Ah! the sleek fops should take a turn
At the long, weary foot-sore tramp,
In search of work, till sick hearts burn,
Till the cold flags or footways damp,
Of London seem