Which on the ledger leaves no monument;
While oft they read, with small but pious wit,
Th’ inscription o’er the play-house portals writ,
In a bad sense—‘The entrance to the Pit.’
Among this godly tribe it was my fate
To view a triumph they enjoyed of late,
Which, lest the chroniclers who come hereafter
Omit, and cheat our children of their laughter,
I, a Daguerre-like sketcher of the time,
Will faintly shadow as I can in rhyme.