 | Poems |  |
85
Mr. WRIGHT.
Who's that looks so fiercely! oh, I ken the wight,
'Tis the drama's Drawcansir, the bold Roger Wright!
Have you no work cut out, that you let him thus roam?
In a Bailiff or Murderer, Roger's at home:
Tho' 'tis known from the first he has constantly fled,
And murders in jest, but—to get himself bread;
He often damns bailiffs; for Roger hates law;
And the dagger his feelings will scarce let him draw.
Hard case! when an actor is destin'd to play,
In parts were antipathies block up his way:
But nothing should stop the career of ambition,
Tho' Fate open'd wide the black gates of Perdition!
'Tis the drama's Drawcansir, the bold Roger Wright!
Have you no work cut out, that you let him thus roam?
In a Bailiff or Murderer, Roger's at home:
Tho' 'tis known from the first he has constantly fled,
And murders in jest, but—to get himself bread;
He often damns bailiffs; for Roger hates law;
And the dagger his feelings will scarce let him draw.
Hard case! when an actor is destin'd to play,
In parts were antipathies block up his way:
But nothing should stop the career of ambition,
Tho' Fate open'd wide the black gates of Perdition!
Alas! who'd imagine good acting was rare,
When every Whipster can thus be a Play'r?
—The science of acting from Nature requires
A genius that knows all her force and her fires;
A classical, polish'd, and well-govern'd mind,
A taste that's correct, boundless, good, and refin'd;
Endowments that seldom are met with in men,
But, like comets, just blaze on the world now and then.
Yet none are alarm'd at so great an assumption;
For Folly has ever been mark'd by presumption.
But touch'd by the dog-star he'll bellow self-pleas'd,
With incontinent rant, and a mind that's diseas'd;
Like Icarus madly he soars to the sun,
'Till his wings melt in air, and the man is undone.
Even Lords and young spinsters of Elegance strive,
Who shall wear the sock best and keep Laughter alive.
When every Whipster can thus be a Play'r?
—The science of acting from Nature requires
A genius that knows all her force and her fires;
A classical, polish'd, and well-govern'd mind,
A taste that's correct, boundless, good, and refin'd;
Endowments that seldom are met with in men,
But, like comets, just blaze on the world now and then.
86
For Folly has ever been mark'd by presumption.
But touch'd by the dog-star he'll bellow self-pleas'd,
With incontinent rant, and a mind that's diseas'd;
Like Icarus madly he soars to the sun,
'Till his wings melt in air, and the man is undone.
Even Lords and young spinsters of Elegance strive,
Who shall wear the sock best and keep Laughter alive.
Like the wheels of a watch is the actor's estate,
Where the small have their motion impell'd by the great;
And each must fulfill the intent of his station,
And make up a whole—by progressive gradation.
Where the small have their motion impell'd by the great;
And each must fulfill the intent of his station,
And make up a whole—by progressive gradation.
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