THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
 T H E S P I S: 
 
 .OR, A 
 
 CRITICAL EXAMINATION 
 
 INTO THE 
 
 Merits of all the Principal Performers 
 
 BELONGING TO 
 
 DRURY-LANE THEATRE, 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for G. Kearsly, (N° i.) in Ludgate-Street* 
 
 MDCCLXVL
 
 ^i^ 
 
 
 T H E S P I S. 
 
 OLD is his taik in this drfcernine ao-c. 
 When every witling prates about the ftage ; 
 And fome pert title arrogantly brings 
 To trace up nature thro' her nobleft fprings: 
 Bold in fuch times, his tafk muft be allow'd 
 Who feeks to form a judgment for the croud j 
 Prefumes, the public fentiment to guide, 
 And fpeaks at once to prejudice and pride. 
 Of all the ftudies in thefe happier days, 
 By which we foar, ambitioufly to praifc. 
 
 B Of 
 
 959134
 
 z T H E S P I S. 
 
 Of all the fine performances of art, 
 Which charm the eye, or captiv^ate the heart ; 
 None like the ftage our admiration draws; 
 Or gains fo high, and proper, an applaufe. 
 Yet, has this art unhappily no rules 
 To check the vain impertinence of fools, 
 To point out rude deformity from grace, 
 And Pcrike aline 'twixt acting and grimace. 
 
 High as the town, with reverence we may name, 
 And fl:am_p its general fentiments to fame; 
 Loud, as, perhaps, we eccho to its voice. 
 And pay a boundlefs homage to its choice; 
 Still, if we look, minutely, we fhall find 
 Each fingle judge fo impotent or blind, 
 That ev'n the acftor whom we moft admire. 
 For eafe or humour, dignity or fire. 
 Shall often blufh to meet the ill-earn'd bays, 
 And pine beneath an infamy of praife. 
 
 How oft, foul-fearching Gar rick, have I huncr 
 On every accent of that wond'rous tongue ; 
 
 When
 
 T H E S P I S. ^ 
 
 When in Old Lear, returning into fenfe, 
 And faintly gueffing at fome paft offence. 
 To gain Cordelia*s pardon thou haft pray'd, 
 And knelt by inftind with that fuffering maid ! 
 How has my breaft then labour'd with its figh, 
 And the big forrow delug'd all my eye; 
 While keen delight perform'd a traytor's part, 
 And ach'd intenfely round my ftruggling heart ! 
 Yet, in thofe moments, when I fought to find 
 An equal tranfport in the public mind ; 
 When I believ'd a fympathy wou'd fhine 
 In every eye as honeftly as mine; 
 A lifelefs paufe, perhaps, has gloom'd along, 
 And drowfy dulnefs fat upon the throng; 
 Enormous curls have flept on empty blocks, 
 Or well-bred curtfies fhot from box to box ; 
 Whereas, when prifoner, and in fetters bound, 
 A peal of praife has thunder'd all around. 
 And every hand employ'd its utmoft pains, 
 To clap the mighty merit of the chains. 
 
 When things, like thefe, for ever give offence. 
 And empty fliew is lifted over fenfe : When
 
 4. THESPIS, 
 
 When men throw nature negligently by, 
 And judge not from the feelings, but the eye ; 
 Nay, when our aclors, in their bufieft parts. 
 While fear or hope ftand beating at our hearts. 
 From the warm fcene may fcandaloufly run, 
 And feaft the galleries with an inftant pun; 
 Then, keen-ey'd fatire, confcioufly fhou'd rife^ 
 And hold a mirror to the public eyes ; 
 Alike regardlefs of her foe or friend. 
 With candour blame, with honefty commend y 
 Applaud, if right, the man fhe may dcteft. 
 And ftrike, if wrong, the brother of her breaft. 
 
 'Tis on the ftage, as 'tis in life, we find 
 No fingle man quite excellent in mind; 
 Nor do we meet a bofom fo deprav'd,. 
 So loft in vice, and utterly enflav'd. 
 But what, at times, fome tranfient fpark of grace 
 Has beam'd his eye, and flufh'd upon his face; 
 "With pitying warmth intuitively ftolc, 
 And pierg'd the Stygian fable of his fouL 
 
 Therefore.
 
 ' T H E S P I S. 5 
 
 Therefore, unlike fome brothers of the pen, 
 
 Who judg'd of a6lors as they judg'd of men. 
 
 In wild extremes ridiculouily trod. 
 
 And drew, by turns, a daemon or a god ; 
 
 My tints from life fliall regularly glow. 
 
 And paint both faults and beauties as they grow;. 
 
 Convinc'd, the trueft pidures muft be made,- 
 
 Where light.is blended properly with fliade.. 
 
 Long in the annals of theatric fame, 
 Has truth grac'd Garrick with a foremoft name;; 
 Long in a wide diverfity of parts, 
 Allow'd his double empire o'er our hearts; 
 Either in mirth to laugh us to excefs, 
 Or, where he weeps, to load- us with diftrefs — » 
 Nor is it ftrange, that e'en in partial days, 
 He gains fo high an eminence of praife ; 
 When his united requifites are more. 
 Than ever centred in one mind before:. 
 Say, if we fearch, minutely, from the a,ge 
 In which old The sp is firft began the ftage^ 
 
 C And
 
 6 T H E S P I s; 
 
 And range thro' all the celebrated climes, 
 In which it flourifli'd, to the prefent times, 
 Where iliall we find an a(flor who has preft, 
 With fuch extenfive force upon the breaft, 
 Fill'd fuch oppofing characters for years, 
 Unmatched, alike, in laughter or in tears ? . 
 Others, perhaps, the greateft of their hour. 
 Whom fame extoll'd as prodigies of power, 
 Have yet to fcanty limits been confin'd, 
 And fhewn but one dull tendency of mind ; 
 On bold blank-verfe heroically rofc, 
 Or meanly ambled upon humbler profc— 
 Othello's form a Betterton might wear, 
 And rend the foul with horror and defpair ; 
 Booth might with confcious majefty declaim, 
 And build on Cat o a fubftantial name; 
 In WiLDAiR, Wilkes moft certainly might foar, 
 And Gibber's fop fet millions in a roar; 
 But which of thefe like Garrick cou'd appear, 
 In Romeo, Sharpe, in Drugger and in Lear; 
 Fill the wide rounds of paflion as they fall, 
 And jQiine with equal excellence in all ? 
 
 Yet,
 
 T H E s p r s. 
 
 Yet, tho' thus warm I freely pour my thoughts, 
 I ftill muft think that Garrick has his faults ; 
 Some cafual errors in his parts, which run 
 As fpecks fometimes will fatten on the fun ; 
 Ev'n in his Lear, where defperately wild, 
 He ftabs the ruffians to preferve his child, 
 And quite worn out with tendernefs and rage. 
 Leans, wholly fpent, and breathlefs on the ftage j 
 Then, while the tide of fympathy has rofe, 
 And every bofom lahour'd with his woes, 
 Then have I {ee:n him negligently fall, 
 Full with his face againft the prifon wall, 
 Snatch every feature ftrangely from our light, 
 And check the flood of exquifite delight, 
 
 Tho' fam'd Apelles, at a touch cou'd give, 
 The warming canvafs almoft how to live ; 
 Tho' fcarce to lefs than deity, wh^n grown, 
 He call'd out new creations of his own ; 
 Yet, when the weaknefs of his art he faw. 
 The Grecian fat^ier's agony to draw, 
 'Twas wife, a veil upon his face to throw, 
 Whofe pangs he found in^poffible to flaew ;
 
 g T H E S P I S. 
 
 But when, even Shakefpear never cou'd poffefs 
 Too big a grief for Garrick to exprefs, 
 When his fharp eye fo piercingly can roll, 
 And dart fuch inftant paffions thro' the foul, 
 'Tis doubly wrong, the tenderer the cafe. 
 To hide the wondVous workings of his face ;:. 
 To check our hopes, or play upon our fears. 
 And damp the rich-foul'd luxury of tears. 
 
 For five long years in dark oblivion thrown^. 
 Has Lee remain d, negkaed and unknown, 
 Unlefs, when chance, on fome capricious flart^ 
 Has kindly bleft him with a decent part ; 
 Yet was this Lee, at one aufpicious hour^ 
 Allow'd to boaft a little fliare of power, 
 Was thought in various characters to pleafe^ 
 And fam'd no lefs for energy than eafe,. 
 For me, who feel a tendernefs of breafi:. 
 Where'er a dawn of merit feems oppreft, 
 I may, perhaps, be partial to his fa:ults, 
 And do him more than juftice in my thoughts ^ 
 But when I fee the genuine paffions rife, 
 Which flame in Aboan's red refenting eyes;
 
 T H E S P I S. ^ 
 
 When I behold in Vernish's difgrace 
 
 The ftruggling foul fo ftampt upon the face ; 
 
 Or meet in Belmont with that dangerous art, 
 
 Which even for crimes can plead about the heart j 
 
 I own, it wounds my temper and my tafte 
 
 To find him ftill fo defpicably plac'd ; 
 
 Sent on in Frenchmen, Raleighs, and Glendowers^, 
 
 While things like Packer furfeit us for hours. 
 
 'Tis true that Lee has fatally imbib'd 
 
 A mode of fpeech not eafily defcrib'd ; 
 
 A nice affedted drawlingnefs of phrafe,. 
 
 A wire-drawn tone in every thing he plays;; 
 
 With which, too oft, moft execrably fine;^, 
 
 He racks a word, and tortures out a line ;, 
 
 Yet ftill has Lee a confequence of form^ 
 
 A voice and look fo capable to warm 
 
 A ftage ftruck heat, fo vehemently ftrong, 
 
 With fuch a piercing confcioufnefs of wrongs 
 
 That even when Barry, in his nobleft courfe,. 
 
 Some few weeks fince exerted all his force; 
 
 Strain'd every nerve to draw the fcattering crown^, 
 
 And cramm'd his moon-ey'd idiot on the town ^, 
 
 D. "^ Then
 
 lO 
 
 H E S P I S, 
 
 Then did this Lee burft on us in a blaze, 
 And wake us all to wonder and to praife j 
 -Give vile Iago's deeply fcheming ire 
 The boldefl: touches of <iramatic fire, 
 And fvvell the gen'rous Pierre with a flame 
 That left even Ja-ffier but a fecond fame. 
 Hence, mean foe'er, as managers may prize, 
 I look on Lee with very different eyes, 
 -And freely place, however they difdain. 
 His chair next Garrick's high in Drury-Lane, 
 
 The greateft charge our little judges lay 
 '"When Holland'^ worth they critically weigh, 
 Is, that in all the characters he tries, 
 His matter Garrick ever fills his eyes ; 
 That meanly fervile in his walk of parts, 
 He ftrives to fhine by imitative arts, 
 And now, fo dull a copieft is grown. 
 To want all fenfe and feeling of his own. 
 In this nice age, when fatally difgrac'd. 
 Poor fenfe falls martyr'd at the fhrine of tafte, 
 When a mere word, indefinite and vain. 
 The random coinage of the coxcomb's brain j
 
 H E S P 1 S. 
 
 ££ 
 
 By truth and judgment wholly unconfin'd, 
 
 And differing ftill in ev'ry different mind, 
 
 Ufurps the air of fentiment, to pafs 
 
 For fterling gold her defpicable brafs ; 
 
 Then imitation certainly muft fall, 
 
 And raife the general enmity of all ; 
 
 Muft own the pride-taught fentence to be juft, 
 
 And lick the foot that tramples it in duft. 
 
 Yet, fure, if Garrick hitherto has ran 
 
 By reafon's line, and juftly laid his plan 
 
 On that exalted principle of art, 
 
 Which knocks with truth's bold hand againft the hearty 
 
 If in the various characters he plays 
 
 The genuine form of nature he conveys, 
 
 And hits, in fhort, upon that happy right, 
 
 Which gives the fineft effence of delight, 
 
 Thofe who affedl to turn away the head 
 
 When Holland feeks his veftiges to tread, 
 
 Muft argue lefs from judgment than from whim. 
 
 Since copying nature is to copy him. 
 
 But, why at all ftiould critics proudly ftart, 
 
 And feem to frown on imitative art ? 
 
 Where
 
 ,2 T H E S P I S. 
 
 Where worth, or fame our admiration raife, 
 
 A vvifli to copy is a kind of praife — 
 
 Say in this age, fome genius fliou'd we find 
 
 So rich in thought, and vigorous in mind, 
 
 As gave the fury of a ftage defire, 
 
 Even the pale glimmering of a Shakespear's fire. 
 
 Should we not all inevitably throng 
 
 To hail the glowing wonders of his fong, 
 
 And with a wild munificence reward 
 
 The fainteft traces of our deathlefs bard ? 
 
 For me, unapt to criticife in hafte, 
 
 And little guilty of a modern tafte ; 
 
 I own this Holland ever my offence, 
 
 But where he draws from Garrick, and from fenfe; 
 
 While he does this, I patiently attend, 
 
 And often find no little to commend. 
 
 With honeft warmth his plaudit I can hear, 
 
 And join myfelf the tribute of a tear. 
 
 But when fome air-born fancy to purfue. 
 
 He lets his matter once efcape his view ; 
 
 When much too great for imitation grown, 
 
 He boldly feeks a manner of his own. 
 
 Sententious^^
 
 T H E S P I S. , 
 
 Sententious, dull, and heavy he appears, 
 
 His words like weights hang dragging on our ears ; 
 
 Fatigues to death in fpite of all our power, 
 
 And drawl the minute's fentence to an hour—-. 
 
 Nor is this all, a ftupid fort of flare, 
 
 A ftarch'd, ftifF, flalking, aukwardnefs of air, 
 
 Abforb at once his figure and his face. 
 
 And fcorn all marks of nature and of grace ; 
 
 While the purs'd lips, to wind up ev'ry paufe^,. 
 
 Important fwell and bully for applaufe. 
 
 Few for fo fhort an interval have gain'd 
 A higher rank than Powell has obtain'd ^ 
 And few, in fad, at prefent on the ftage, 
 Deferve a warmer notice from the age. 
 Form'd with fome lines that happily exprefs 
 No little fenfe of pity and diftrefs ; 
 And form'd with tones that frequently impart? 
 No little fhare of foftnefs to the heart. 
 On many minds he tenderly can flealj 
 And teach a drowfy auditor to feel, 
 
 E Hence,
 
 14 T H E S P I S. 
 
 Hence, in thofe parts where wretchednefs and years 
 
 Alarm alike our pity and our fears, 
 
 Where the poor Lusignan, from prifon led, 
 
 Shakes the white honours of his facred head : 
 
 O'er his fweet Pagan tenderly complains, 
 
 And calls again for darknefs, and for chains ; 
 
 Or, where old Henry, fick'ning with defpair. 
 
 Upbraids the wildnefs of his madcap heir ; 
 
 In parts like thefe, to Powell I attend 
 
 A ftrong admirer, and a fteady friend.— - 
 
 But, when in gay Lothario he wou'd (liew, 
 
 The fprightly airs of libertine and beau ; 
 
 Or give in Townly, to a modifh wife. 
 
 The nicer touches of fuperior life ; 
 
 Not all the fcrapes, or cringes which he tries, 
 
 Thofe paltry arts of little men to rife ; 
 
 The fcorn of fenfe and judgment can remove, 
 
 Or teach one honeft blockhead to approve. 
 
 As yet, two raw young ftriplings on the ftage. 
 Unfit for fight, tho' burning to engage, 
 
 Led
 
 T H E S P I S, 
 
 Led on by hope, courageoufly to prefs, 
 Yet taught by fenfe, to pradlife for fuccefs ; 
 No judgment, now, of Cautherly I frame; 
 Nor fettle Bensly's title to a name. — 
 ¥/here firfl: eifays are diffidently tried, 
 A candid mind muft cautioufly decide ; 
 Nor ralhly rifque opinions, which in time 
 The mufe herfelf may cenfure as a crime. 
 
 Where the gay mufe in laughter loves to fport, 
 And brifk Thalia holds her hum'rous court, 
 Yates with high rank, for ever mujft be plac'd, 
 Who blends fuch Rvid: propriety with tafte ; 
 From nature's fount fo regularly draws, 
 And never feeks to trick us of applaufe. 
 Mark, when he plays, no vacancy of face^ 
 No wand'ring eye, or ignorant grimace, 
 Is rudely fuffer'd once to intervene. 
 Or check the growing bufinefs of a fcene ; 
 Nay, in his filence, happily employed, 
 He looks continual meaning on the void ; 
 Bids every glance with charadler be fraught, 
 And fwells each mufcle with a burft of thought. 
 
 'S
 
 26 
 
 H E S P I S, 
 
 Hence," in thofe cruder fedions of a part, 
 
 Where want of humour muft be fiird by art, 
 
 Where the poor poet, in fome hicklefs lit 
 
 Miftakes a dull prolixity for wit ; 
 
 His merit fliines with undiminifh'd rays. 
 
 And lifts whole troops of Restless's to praife. — 
 
 Yet there are times, when fpite of all his care. 
 
 Our tafte muft briftle, and our fenfe muft ftare : 
 
 When a new part unhappily he' plays, 
 
 A thoufand doubts perplex him, and amaze ; 
 
 Faft from himfelf he tremblingly retires. 
 
 Nor trufts that worth which all the world admires; 
 
 But on a fea of caufelefs terror toft, 
 
 Allows both mind and memory to be loft^ 
 
 But tho' on Yates the comic mufe may fhower 
 An ample fund of humour and of power ; 
 Tho' in his walk of characters he claims 
 So high a place among theatric names, 
 Still there are others in her fmiles who fhare^. 
 And prove her generous as they know her fair, 
 eft in fome whim, the buxom nymph will try 
 To pafc far King upon the public eye:
 
 T H E S P I 5, ,7 
 
 On Tom or Ranger, wantonly will feize. 
 
 And give us all his fpirit and his eafe : 
 
 Again, in Prattle phylically prim. 
 
 She fteals each look and attitude from him ; 
 
 And like a virgin, whofe unpracftis'd breaft 
 
 Some blooming youth entirely has polTefs'd ; 
 
 Who, if mifchance unhappily fhould ftart. 
 
 To wound the face that captivates her heart. 
 
 Feels no unkind propenfity to rove, 
 
 But throbs all pitying with a fofter love ; 
 
 So, when emaciate with difeafe and years. 
 
 Her fav'rite King in Ogleby appears. 
 
 The comic mufe exerts unufual force 
 
 To call down laughter from its richefl: fource ; 
 
 Glows with a flame additionally warm, 
 
 And feems in more than raptures with his form— — 
 
 O! that the goddefs, in fome lucky hour 
 
 Wou'd wifely try the utmoft of her power, 
 
 Wou'd tell her King, that in the well-bred fmart. 
 
 Too great a pertnefs quite deftroys the part; 
 
 And, when a Basset's habit he wou'd wear, 
 
 Difmifs the faucy Smatter from his air. 
 
 F Vernon
 
 t8 T H E S P I S. * 
 
 Vernon to favour ne'er can have pretence, 
 A linger truly,-— and difgac'd with fenfe. 
 Why fhould a fellow bleft with fuch a ftrain, 
 As ftill can charm us to the verge of pain, 
 The melting foul in extafy abforb, 
 And almoft pluck a planet from its orb ; ' 
 Vv hy fliould he ftrive in fuch a fing-fong age, 
 To foar by fterling merit on the ftage, 
 Or feek by knowledge in dramatic laws. 
 To reach a vulgar masculine applaufe? 
 Did he indeed, ne'er generoufly rife 
 Beyond the Tom Tale, or the London Cries, 
 With which of late, fo dead to every fliame. 
 He meanly pimp'd for proftituted fame. 
 Some room for eafy pardon might be found. 
 And duUnefs join mof!; lovingly with found ; 
 But, when Pharnaces, or Macheath we fee 
 So nerv'd with thought, fo fpirited and free, 
 When ev'n his flimfieft charaders of fong 
 Can ftrike our minds fo wonderfully ftrong, 
 Our honeft rage eternally muft live. 
 And prudence make it madnefs to forgive. 
 
 Palmer,
 
 T H B S P I S. 
 
 Palmer, from playing almoft every nicrht, 
 Has grown fo long familiar to our fight, 
 That even in fcenes fcarce poflible to bear, 
 We kindly rate him as a decent player. 
 Yet, fmce the ft age its firft exiftence drew, 
 An odder compound never ftruck our view; 
 Nor did the drama ever yet produce 
 So bad an adlor half fo iit for ufe. 
 Mark with what grace his perfon is defign'd 
 For parts of life, and characters refin'd ; 
 Yet, that ftrange iliambling of deportment fee, 
 Tho' eafy, ftiff ; and manacled, tho' free ; 
 Tho' ftrait, yet doubled; tortur'd, tho' in form; 
 Aukward, tho' bred ; and fpiritlefs tho' warm — 
 Tho' fraught with tones articulate and clear, 
 He keeps an endlefs fcreaming on the ear ; 
 Howls out young Oakley in fuch hideous ftrains, 
 As midnight wolves might ufe upon the plains. 
 And ftrangles poor Sir Brilliant in a note 
 Too nicely horrid for a human throat. 
 But, tho' in wide and capital refpedls, 
 I fee in Palmer manifeft defeds ; 
 
 ^9 
 
 Tho'
 
 20 T H E S P I S^, 
 
 Tho' that addrefs fo terrible muft feem, 
 
 And that vile voice excruciate with its fcream; 
 
 Yet, ever ready in the heavieft parts. 
 
 He fcorns all aid from defpicable arts, 
 
 And ever mailer of his author's aim, 
 
 Juft to his fenfe, and cautious of his fame. 
 
 With fecret pleafure I behold him rife. 
 
 And cry, " Peace," always to my ears and eyes — 
 
 If ftrong good fenfe, and latitude of mind, 
 A keen conception, and a tafte refinM, 
 A long acquaintance with thofe nicer arts 
 That read thro' life, and ftudy thro' our hearts. 
 An adlor's name with certainty might raife. 
 Or bind bis temples with the generous baysj, 
 Who againfl: Love a fyllable cou'd breathe. 
 Or once difpute his title to a wreathe ? 
 But, 'tis not tafte or judgment which can give 
 An ac^ior's name eternally to live ; 
 Or even the wideft knowledge of mankind, 
 Which ftamps, thro' time, his image on the mind- 
 Hence, tho' in Falstaff, Love has oft expreft, 
 A nice obfervance of the human breaft ;
 
 T H E S P I S. 21 
 
 Tho' in his Bays we readily admire 
 
 The critic's clearnefs and the ad:or's fire. 
 
 Yet, when we fee him on Granada's throne, 
 
 The dupe of Zara's fury and his own ; 
 
 Or mark in Gloster, with what nervelefs rage 
 
 He drives poor Shore to wander from the ftage, 
 
 We all lament the cruelty of fate. 
 
 Which damns fo good an adlor into ftate, 
 
 And find thefe fceptres quite as dangerous things^^ 
 
 To mimic monarchs as to adlual kings — 
 
 In foreign footmen, Baddely alone 
 Preferves the native nafilnefs of tone, 
 And in his manner ftrongly {hews ally'd 
 Their genuine turn of abjedlnefs and pride. 
 If proofs are wanting, on Canton I call. 
 And ajfk the general fentiments of all — 
 Here then, fecure of competence and name, 
 He ought to reft his fortune and his fame. 
 And not in buckifli epilogues, which fpring 
 Vvith real life from nobody but King 3 
 
 G At
 
 zz T H E S P I s: 
 
 At random rifque, the favour which we lliower 
 On fcenes more fuited to his tafte and power— 
 
 Blest with the happiefl: nothingnefs of form. 
 
 Which nature e'er with being ftrove to warm, 
 
 On life's juft fcale fcarce capable to ftand, 
 
 A kind of mandrake in creation's hand ; 
 
 See DoDD, in all his tininefs of ftate 
 
 Refift his ftarsj and counterad his fate, 
 
 On adual wants prepofteroufly fliine, 
 
 Abfurdly great, and defpicably fine— - 
 
 Fram'd at his birth a coxcomb for the ftage, 
 
 He foars the foremoft fribble of the age, 
 
 And ftruck by chance on fome egregious plan, 
 
 A mere nice prim, epitome of man. 
 
 In every coinage of the poet's brain, 
 
 Who blends alike the worthlefs and the vain. 
 
 Who in fuch parts as Faddle, has defign'd 
 
 A fopling's figure for a villain's mind j 
 
 There Dodd's fine want of all exterior weio-ht. 
 
 New points our laugh, or doubly whets our hate. 
 
 Hangs
 
 T H E S P I S, 
 
 Hangs the vile Have more openly in morn, 
 
 And brands him ftill with aggravated fcorn 
 
 But when at Wildair's elegance he tries, 
 Or feeks in well-bred Novelty to rife; 
 When on thofe parts he fatally will ftrike, 
 Which urge no fcorn, and furnifh no diflike, 
 There all his price inanity mifplac'd, 
 Difgufts alike our judgment and our tafte ; 
 There he provokes our ridicule, or rage, 
 And melts poor Wildair down into a page - 
 
 'Tis true, in life we frequently behold 
 A daring fpirit in the fmalleft mould, 
 And ne'er from face or perfon think to find 
 The latent turn of principle or mind : 
 But in the drama, with creative fire. 
 We give each part the perfon we defire, 
 Expedl all grace in Bevil's fhou'd be feen, 
 But afk for Sneak's diminutive and mean-— 
 Hence, if deceiv'd, that fafcinating rage 
 Which nerves the fcene, and vivifies the ftage, 
 Calls out illufion thro' the roar of ftrife, 
 And warms the moral fidion into life ;
 
 24 T H E S P I S. 
 
 That inftant, flags no more to be poflefs'd. 
 And fpreads one torpid dullnefs thro' the breaft- 
 
 Born to delight a laughter-loving age, 
 And give frefh funds of humour to the ftage ;. 
 Mark with what ftrength of unafFeded eafe,. 
 That happy Weston commonly can pleafe : 
 Tho' bold, yet Ample ; forcible, tho' cool ; 
 Fine without trick; and finifli'd without rule— 
 In thofe fl:ill fcenes oi fcarce exijling life. 
 Where Sneak breathes only to obey a wife ; 
 Or where poor Drugger publicly difplay'd,. 
 Hano;s out the mere dull animal of trade ; 
 There Weston's worth with certainty may reft,, 
 Nor fear the flridleft rigidnefs of teft ;, 
 There a fublime ftupidity of face, 
 As. dead to fcnfe as deftitute of grace,, 
 A iix'd, relaxlefs vacancy of lines> 
 With fuch true genius generally fliines,. 
 That quite furpriz'd, tho' fatisiied we gaze^ 
 And all is mirth, aftonifhment, and praife. 
 Of all the w^lks in which the humorous power; 
 Of comic wit can cxercife an hour \
 
 T H E S P I S, 25 
 
 Perhaps, that cold inanimated way 
 In which an adlor never feems to play; 
 In which the chiefeft merit of a part 
 Exifts entirely in the want of art ; 
 The ftrongeft force of requifites may claim. 
 And prove the hardeft avenue to fame — 
 To Weston's praife, then generouily true. 
 The mufe fliall raife him publicly to view ; 
 A firft rate ador of the Nokes's kind, 
 Beft when leaft fhewn, and happieft when confined — 
 But, when by fome fatality mifled, 
 A rage for praife has overfet his head ; 
 When grown quite arch he madly quits his place, 
 And feeks to foar by pertnefs and grimace ; 
 When in attempting at fome paltry joke. 
 The fine dry dullnefs of his face is broke, 
 ^ With juft difdain I turn my head afide. 
 And damn alike his ignorance and pride — 
 
 To fay that Ha yard never has a claim 
 To fome fmall portion of theatric fame ; 
 
 H To
 
 25 T H E S P I S. 
 
 To fay quite roundly, that we never flied 
 
 Some tranfient gleams of favour on his head> 
 
 The public knowledge grofly would abufe, 
 
 And fix a lafting ftigma on the mufe ; 
 
 Yet, when our eye upon his claim we throw^ 
 
 And fee what lifelefs plaudits we beftow. 
 
 When thro' his round of requifites we trace, 
 
 Think on his voice, his figure^ and his face> 
 
 And find plain fenfe, and memory, at moft 
 
 Are all the mighty merits he can boaft. 
 
 We fteal in pity from our ftridler plan. 
 
 To praife his private virtues as a man> 
 
 And while the charms of genuine worth engage,^ 
 
 Deteft the hour he firft beheld a ftage. 
 
 Hurst, with his talents for life's ancient fcencs^ 
 Muft rife in time, if mindful of the means ; 
 But when with y^ars, and with difeafes bow'd^ 
 What need of tones extravagantly loud ? 
 Laurence may counfel, and exprefs his fears> 
 Yet fhew fome kind attention to our ears ; 
 
 And
 
 T H E S P I S. 
 
 And woe-worn Adam may exclaim for bread, 
 Without once fplitting a fpeclator's head — 
 He who would feize an andience by the heart, 
 Shou'd always judge the nature of his part ; 
 And in proportion as the fcene requires, 
 Supprefs the talent-working of his fires ; 
 Since too much force propriety deftroys, 
 And white-hair'd grief is never mark'd by noife ; 
 Should poor old Lear forget his tott'ring gait 
 To ape young Ammon's majefty and ftate, 
 Or godlike Cato from his feat advance, 
 To treat the grinning gallery with a dance ; 
 With what a wild amazement would we ftare. 
 And check the mad'ning progrefs of the player ? 
 If then, with Hurst we mildly wou'd engage, 
 And afk the various properties of age, 
 Wou'd palfied limbs be all he wifh'd to own, 
 Or wou'd he give it feeblenefs of tone ? 
 
 But mark with what vulgarity of ftare, 
 What low unmeaning impudence of air 
 That mud-ey'd Moody, whofe relentlefs face. 
 No blufli e'er crimfon d with a moment's grace> 
 
 27
 
 28 T H E S P I S. 
 
 Gapes around the houfe, regardlefs of his part, 
 All brafs in front, and marble all in heart ; 
 For him no fcene, however it may flow 
 With high-wrought wit, or agonizing woe, 
 Once on his breaft can fortunately fteal. 
 Or teach that ruthlefs bofom how to feel — 
 Yet, tho cut off from every juft pretence 
 To tafle, to nature, decency and fenfe, 
 Tho' no blefl beam of fympathy e'er ftole 
 To rouze the deep ftagnation of his foul ; 
 Still, while O'CuTTER happily can pleafe 
 With brainlefs bravery, and with brutal eafe ; 
 While every human principle of breaft, 
 Falls vily martyr'd to an Irish jeft, 
 There his wide want of fentiment and fliame. 
 So nicely tallies with the poet's aim, 
 That truth herfelf muft combat in his caufe. 
 And yield the crown of infamous applaufe — 
 
 Not fo the modeft Ackman ftrikes our view, 
 Whofe parts, tho' neither eminent nor new, 
 Still from his ftridl propriety and care, 
 Muft here be rank'd a tolerable player.
 
 T H E S P I S. 29 
 
 Small as his round of charaAers appear, 
 
 He ne'er offends, our vifion, or our ear. 
 
 But always decent, perfect, and in place, 
 
 Fills his fliort walk with judgment and with grace-— 
 
 'Tis not a circuit of five hundred lines 
 
 Thro' which a hero rants away or whines. 
 
 That e'er an ador's merit can decide, 
 
 Or ferve the candid critic for a guide — 
 
 The poor plain foldier while the battle glows, 
 
 Who darts courageous on his gathering foes. 
 
 With dauntlefs breaft beholds his danger rife. 
 
 And nobly fcorns to fliudder, tho' he dies. 
 
 Is, in my thought, a much more worthy name 
 
 Than he, who dead to honour and to fhame, 
 
 Howe'er hung round with title or command, 
 
 Intrench'd in daftard difcipline can ftand. 
 
 On doubtful orders hefitate to fight. 
 
 And rufli on noon-day error to be right. 
 
 Brans BY to greatnefs never makes pretence. 
 Yet feldom ftrikes at decency or fenfe ; 
 
 I But
 
 30 T H E S P I S. 
 
 But humbly careful, thro' the round he plays, 
 Avoids all ccniure, if he meets no praife-— 
 
 AicKiN has various requilites to pleafe; 
 A handfome perfon, and an inborn cafe, 
 A manly accent, forcible and clear, 
 A ready memory, and a happy ear-— 
 And, if the poet with prophetic verfe 
 Thro' fate's dark womb can accurately pierce. 
 An hour w^ill come, when time's improving hand 
 Shall teach his tafle and judgment to expand. 
 And in dramatic annals mark him fair, 
 Tho' not a great, a ferviceable player. 
 
 Burton is one of thofe unnotic'd things, 
 Who make good lords, or fecondary kings. 
 The livelieft mind to ftupefaclion lull. 
 So wifely flat, and rationally dull — 
 And yet, with all that wond'rous weight of lead. 
 Which bounteous fate has given him for a head. 
 He ftill poflefles fuch amazing arts 
 To rife qui.te perfed in the heavieft parts, 
 
 That
 
 T H E S P I s. 
 
 That all, with me, muft highly praife his pains, 
 And own his memory, tho' they doubt his brains. 
 
 But now, let juftice doubly arm the mufe, 
 And tenfold candour confecrate her views ; 
 For now, her genuine equity of breaft 
 Muft ftand a keen unmitigating teft ; 
 And thofe who think, that friendfhip or offence 
 Are yet unmingled in the poet's fenfe. 
 May fear, when female charadlers he draws. 
 Left truth fhou'd fuffer from a fofter caufe. 
 Indeed, where female merit muft be tried, 
 'Tis hard to judge, and dangerous to decide, 
 A fecret fomething in our breafts will warm 
 Where eyes can lauguifh, and where lips can charm ; 
 And age itfelf inftindively will glow, 
 To prefs a ball of animated fnow : 
 But yet, thro' all the pleadings we can trace 
 The wond'rous pleadings of a heavenly face. 
 The bard ftill mindful of defert alone, 
 All partial ties will honeftly difown 3 
 From facred confcience fhudder to depart. 
 And fpeak his judgment, tho' he wounds his heart.
 
 .? T H E S P I S. 
 
 Vincent and Wright, for what the poet cares, 
 May warble fweetly thro' fome trifling airs ; 
 But till fome ray of kind perception refts 
 With p-enial heat upon their mindlefs breafts : 
 They ftill muft raife our pity or offence, 
 Whene'er they claim an intercourfe with fenfe. 
 
 Not fo the gentle Baddeley, whofe form 
 Sweet as her voice, can never fail to charm ; 
 Whofe melting ftrain no Arne's eccentric Ikill, 
 As yet has tortured into modern thrill : 
 She, if our bofoms are not wholly fteel, 
 In poor Ophelia forces us to feel ; 
 From envy's felf roots up the ling'ring figh, 
 And fpreads red anguifh o'er her mad'ning eye — 
 Yet of fuch gifts, tho' happily pofTeft, 
 She rather grows, than ru/hes on the breaft, 
 And rather wins the paffions to her courfe. 
 Than ftrives to ftorm them by immediate force; 
 Hence, in the foft and tender walks alone. 
 Her latent fund of talents muft be fhewn ; 
 And here a juft diftindlion fhe muft bear. 
 If train'd with proper nicety and care —
 
 T H E S P I S. ^^^ 
 
 BARRi^ has tones, which inftantly impart 
 An aking fenfe of pleafure to the heart ; 
 But where a firft-rate eminence we claim. 
 How fmall a title is a voice to fame ! 
 
 Hopkins in Millwood, and the third-rate caft, 
 To public favour ruflies on fo faft. 
 That tho' unequal, widely to engage 
 With many firft clafs parts upon the ftacre ; 
 Still, if her rank we accurately trace, 
 And give her" worth due eminence of place, 
 Not fix, perhaps, thro' Britain we fhall find 
 But what fhe leaves confiderably behind — 
 
 Form'd for thofe coarfe and vulgar fcenes of life, 
 Where low-bred rudenefs always breathes in flrife, 
 Where in fome blefled unifon we find 
 The deadlieft temper with the narroweft mind ; 
 The boldeft front that never knew a fear. 
 The flintieft eye that never fhed a tear ; 
 There, not an adlrefs certainly alive 
 Can e'er difpute pre-eminence with Clive ; 
 
 K There
 
 34 T H E S P 1 S. 
 
 There boldly warm, yet critically true, 
 
 The aftual woman blazes on our view ; 
 
 From felf-ftruck feeling nobly draws her praife, 
 
 And foars, in fad:, the character fhe plays — 
 
 But, when to tafte flie makes the leaft pretence, 
 
 Or madly aims at elegance and fenfe ; 
 
 When at high life fhe defpicably tries. 
 
 And flares her frowfy tiffue on our eyes, 
 
 There the wide waddle, and the ceafelefs bawl, 
 
 Provoke the general ridicule of all. 
 
 And nought but Newgate Lucy we can know, 
 
 Trick'd out, and dizen'd for fome city fhew. 
 
 Pope, tho' undamn'd with any cafual part 
 Of Clive's weak head, or execrable heart; 
 Yet, with almoft her readinefs enjoys 
 A coarfe wrote fcene of turbulence and noife ; 
 And like Clive too in thofe fuperior fpheres, 
 Where eafe delights and elegance endears. 
 That fliapelefs form to grace fo unally'd. 
 That roaring laugh^ and manlinefs of iiride. 
 
 In
 
 T H E S P I S. 
 
 In fpite of pity, force us to be juft, 
 And all we feel is hatred or difguft — 
 
 Is it not odd, that ftill upon the ftagc 
 So few attend to perfon or to age; 
 That aukward, clumfy, or diftorted fhapes, 
 Like new caught bears, or badly tutor'd apes, 
 Faft from thofe parts ridiculoufly crowd. 
 In which their honeft merits are allow'd, 
 To ftain fome high and educated place, 
 Which aflcs the fineft poliflies of grace? 
 Is it not odd too, that the hoary head 
 By fome ftrange daemon ludicroufly led, 
 From thofe grave cafts eternally withdraws, 
 In which it ftill can totter with applaufe 
 To mumble, quite infenfible of ftiame. 
 Some fcene all youthful energy and flame ? — 
 But fuch, alas ! is ignorance or pride, 
 That felf ftill kindly will for felf decide, 
 And while the paflions rule the giddy hour, 
 We all miftake our wiflies for our power 
 
 35 
 
 tUT
 
 36 T H E S P I S. 
 
 But fee where fpriglitly Abington appears, 
 Happy alike in perfon and in years ; 
 Pleafmg tho' pert ; familiar, tho' polite ; 
 Nervous, tho' free ; and fpirited, the' light : 
 As long as eafe, vivacity, or fire, 
 Can find a chearful audience to admire, 
 With juft regard her talents it will rate, 
 Strong, if not fine, and various, if not great. 
 
 Pritchard, tho' now unequal to her prime, 
 And withering fwiftly on the ftalk of time ; 
 Yet ftill retains a magic kind of art, 
 To charm the eye, and twift about the heart, 
 Throws fome refin'd delufion o'er the ftage, 
 And quite abforbs infirmity and age ; 
 Yet form'd, perhaps, the moment of her birth 
 For humour chiefly, elegance and mirth, 
 Her tragic parts are lefs replete with life 
 Than Estifania, or the Jealous Wife; 
 Hence, tho' I always honeftly admire 
 Her Macbeth's madnefs, and her Zara's fire, 
 Still when I fee her obvioufly diftrefl 
 To hurl the paffion ftrongly on my breaft ;
 
 T H E S P I S. 
 
 When I behold her in this dang'rous courfe, 
 Struggling for ftrength, and ftraining after force, 
 I wifli her kindly in that walk of eafe 
 Where every line inftrudled how to pleafe, 
 Springs from her lips fuperlatively warm, 
 Sure to delight, and pofitive to charm — 
 
 O that the hour, whene'er it is defign'd 
 To blefs the well known virtues of her mind, 
 On Palmer's breaft might charitably fhower 
 Some diftant dawnings of the mother's power, 
 One cafual gleam of Pritchard might difpenfe, 
 And wake the beauteous ftatue into fenfe. 
 That no juft cenfure on our fav'rite's race 
 May brand her name with relative difgrace, 
 
 Yates, with fuch wond'rous requilites to charm. 
 Such powers of face, and majefty of form ; 
 Such genuine grandeur with fuch fweetnefs join'd, 
 So clear a voice, and accurate a mind. 
 In fame's firft feat muft certainly be plac'd, 
 "While Britain boafts of judgment, or of tafte. 
 
 L Say, 
 
 37
 
 .% T M E S P ■! 5: 
 
 Say, in what walk of gf ealncfs, ch* of grace, 
 
 This matchlefs woman juft^y fhall we place, 
 
 la which {lie ftill poffeffes not an art, 
 
 To mcltj to frre, to agonize the heart ? 
 
 If in Cordelia to our minds we raife, 
 
 The more than" magic foftnefs flie difplays, 
 
 Will not a gufli of inftant pity fpring, 
 
 To mourn the father, and lament the king ? 
 
 Or, when the haplefs Belvidera's tale 
 
 Of brutal Renault turns the hufband pale, 
 Does not the force with which fhe then exclaimi^ 
 Light every eye-ball into inftant flames ? 
 Rage with a fire too big to be expreft, 
 And rend the coldeft fibres of the breaft ? 
 But, tho' unequaird in thofe tragic parts. 
 Which fall with weight, and hang about our hearts, 
 'Tis not on thefe fhe wholly refts her name. 
 Or builds a title to dramatic fame- 
 Mark, in the gayer polifh'd fcenes of life, 
 The fprightly miftrefs, or the high-bred wife, 
 ¥/hat wond'rous grace and dignity unite 
 To fill us ftill with exquifite delight j 
 
 - Maik
 
 THE S P I s. 
 
 Mark how that namelefs elegance and eafe, 
 Can teach e'en Murphy's ribaldry to pleafe ; 
 With adual life hi& cold Belinda warm, 
 
 And tell that whining Lovemore how to charm 
 
 Peace to thy fhade, and may the laurel bloom 
 With deathlefs green, O Gibber, on thy tomb ! 
 Peace wond'rous Oldfield ever wait thy fhrine, 
 Thou once chos'n prieftefs of the facred nine ; 
 For while this Yates, the utmoft reach can fliow 
 Of comic grace, or foul-diftrading woe, 
 We jfind no reafon for the forrowing teiir, 
 Which elfe wou'd fall incefiant on your bier. 
 
 Curse on that bard's malignity of heart, 
 How fraught foe'er with energy or art, 
 Who once thro' Yates's requifitcs couM trace. 
 
 Yet find no dawn of meaning in her face 
 
 Oft Churchill, often when Bellario's fears 
 
 His faith, his wrongs, have plung'd us into tears^- 
 
 Has the fweet anguifh of this Yates's fighs 
 
 Forc'd that ftern bofom inftantly to rife : 
 
 Oft as her fine dudility of breaft 
 
 Some new-born paffion on the bofom preft. 
 
 a-9
 
 40 T H E S P I S. 
 
 Ta\!(Tht the foft ball more meltingly to roll, 
 And drew out every feature into foul ; 
 Then have I feen, this cenfor who cou'd find 
 No glance whatever vivified with mind, 
 Loft in a ftorm of unaftcded woe, 
 Till pitying nature bid the torrent flow, 
 Reliev'd the tortur'd bofom thro' the eye, 
 And gave his fentence publicly the lye — 
 
 Yet, high foever as the poet rates 
 The well-known worth and excellence of Yates, 
 He cannot give perfedion to her fliare. 
 Nor fay (he's v/hoUy faultlefs as a player — 
 Sometimes her fenfe too exquifitely ftrong. 
 By needlefs force will deviate into wrong ; 
 And fometimes too, to throw this fault afide, 
 She blends too little tendernefs with pride : 
 What need Calista, entering on the ftage, 
 Exclaim, " Be dumb for ever," in a rage? 
 Her faithful woman gives her woes relief. 
 And juftice calls for temper, tho' for grief— 
 Again ; v/hen Modely ftands reveal'd to view, 
 And comes all fuppliant to a laft adieu,
 
 3g H JE S P I S. 
 
 What need that cold indifference of air, 
 
 That ftiff unbending haughtinefs of ftare ? 
 
 'Tis true, the wretch deferves our utmoft fcorn — 
 
 Yet her refentment is but newly born ; 
 
 And we fhou'd read diftindlly in her eyes, 
 
 That ftill fhe loves, howe'er fhe may defpife — 
 
 Where women once a paffion have profefs'd, 
 
 They may refent ; but never can detefl: ; 
 
 Nor where the bafeft fav'rite they difcard, 
 
 Conceal all marks of pity and regard— 
 
 Thus has the poet on old Drury tried 
 With care to judge, and candour to decide ; 
 And fliou'd the kind indulgence of the times 
 Approve thus far his motley firing of rhimes. 
 His aim he yet more widely may purfue, 
 And Beard's light fquadrons in their turn review — 
 Thro' all the pomp of coronations pierce, 
 And give their beft manoeuvres in his verfe— 
 Here, for the prefent then, he drops his plan, 
 Puts off the critic, and affumes the man ; 
 
 M Convinc'd,
 
 T H E S P I S. 
 
 Convinc'd, if truth fliou'd only warm his mufe, 
 The Public fmlle will ftill promote her views; 
 And confcious too, fhou'd prejudice or pride 
 Appear alone her fentiments to guide ; 
 The Public fcorn her pen muft ceafe to brand, 
 The fooner juftice ftrikes it from her hand. 
 
 N I S. 
 
 
 E 
 
 R R A 
 
 T 
 
 A, 
 
 Page 
 
 Line 
 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 3 fc 
 
 ir Fatigues, 
 
 read Fatigue. 
 
 18 
 
 2 
 
 difgac'd, 
 
 
 difgrac'd. 
 
 18 
 
 12 
 
 Tom, 
 
 
 Tomb. 
 
 23 
 
 7 
 
 price. 
 
 
 nice. 
 
 27 
 
 6 
 
 talentjj 
 
 
 latent. 
 
 28 
 
 y 
 
 around. 
 
 
 round. 
 
 29 
 
 I 
 
 round of. 
 
 
 various^
 
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