Nature
against
G—— 		} Defendant's Plea.
For G—— I without a fee
'Gainst Nature thus put in his plea.
"To make a man, like me, of art,
Is not, 'tis true, dame Nature's part;
I own that Scrub, fool, knave I've play'd
With more success than all my trade;
But prove it, plaintiff, if you can,
That e'er I acted like a man."
Of this we boldly make denial.——
Join issue, and proceed to trial.
A. Attorney for the Defendant.

Tho' shambling Becket,[23] proud to soothe my pride,
Keeps ever shuflling on my right-hand side;
What tho' with well-tim'd flatt'ry, loud he cries,
At each theatric stare, "See, see his eyes!"
What tho' he'll fetch and carry at command,
And kiss, true spaniel-like, his master's hand;
With admiration Nyk ne'er heard me speak,
But press'd the kiss of love upon my cheek;[24]
Incessant clapp'd at th'end of every speech;
And, had I bidd'n him, would have kiss'd my b——!
Let me no longer, then, my loss deplore,
But to his Roscius, Muse, my Nyk restore.
But hah! what discord strikes my listening ear?
Is Nyky dead, or is some critic near?
Curse on that Ledger and that damn'd Whitehall,[25]
How players and managers they daily maul!
IMITATIONS.
Ducite ab urbe domum mea carmina ducite Daphnim.
NOTES.

[23] The famous Thomas a Becket, feigned by the poets to have been drown'd, when, being half-seas over, in claret, he endeavoured to return to land: on which occasion a wicked wit of the town made the following epitaph for his tomb.
Here lies
That shuffling, shambling, shrugging, shrinking shrimp,
Tom Becket, Mammon's most industrious imp!

[24] A customary method it seems, of Nyky's expressing his admiration of the acting of the immortal Roscius.

[25] News-papers so called, in which Roscius is not a sharer, and hath not yet come up to the price of their silence.

Curse on that Morning-Chronicle; whose tale
Is never known with spightful wit to fail.
Curse on that Foote; who in ill-fated hour
Trod on the heels of my theatric-power;
Who, ever ready with some biting joke,
My peace hath long and would my heart have broke.
Curse on his horse—one leg! but ONE to break!
"A kingdom for a horse"—to break his neck!
Curse on that Stevens,[26] with his Irish breeding,
While I am acting, shall that wretch be reading?
Curse on all rivals, or in fame or profit;
The Fantoccini still make something of it![27]
NOTES.