place.
Do but note how the Puppy flings back with a yawn,
Like a Duke at the least, or a Bishop in lawn!
Then sniffs at his bouquet, whips round with a smirk,
And ogles the ladies at large--like a Turk.
But the music comes in, and the blanks are all filling,
And TRIP must trip up to the seats at a shilling;
And spite of the mourning that most of us wear
The House takes a gay and a holiday air;
For the fair sex are clever at turning the tables,
And seem to catch coquetry even in sables.
Moreover, your mourning has ribbons and stars,
And is sprinkled about with the red coats of Mars.

Look, look, there is WILKES! You may tell by the squint;
But he grows every day more and more like the print
(Ah! HOGARTH _could_ draw!); and behind at the back
HUGH KELLY, who looks all the blacker in black.
That is CUMBERLAND next, and the prim-looking person
In the corner, I take it, is _Ossian_ MACPHERSON.
And rolling and blinking, here, too, with the rest,
Comes sturdy old JOHNSON, dressed out in his best;
How he shakes his old noddle! I'll wager a crown,
Whatever the law is _he's_ laying it down!
Beside him is REYNOLDS, who's deaf; and the hale
Fresh, farmer-like fellow, I fancy, is THRALE.
There is BURKE with GEORGE STEEVENS. And somewhere, no doubt,
Is the AUTHOR--too nervous just now to come out;
He's a queer little fellow, grave-featured, pock-pitten,
Tho' they say, in his cups, he's as gay as a kitten.

But where is our play-bill? _Mistakes of a Night!_
If the title's prophetic, I pity his plight!
_She Stoops._ Let us hope she won't fall at full length,
For the piece--so 'tis whispered--is wanting in strength.
And the humour is "low!"--you are doubtless aware
There's a character, even, that "dances a bear!"
Then the cast is so poor,--neither marrow nor pith!
Why can't they get WOODWARD or Gentleman SMITH!
"LEE LEWES!" Who's LEWES? The fellow has played
Nothing better, they tell me, than harlequinade!
"DUBELLAMY"--"QUICK,"--these are nobodies. Stay, I
Believe I saw QUICK once in _Beau Mordecai_.
Yes, QUICK is not bad. Mrs. GREEN, too, is funny;
But SHUTER, ah! SHUTER'S the man for my money!
He's the quaintest, the oddest of mortals, is SHUTER,
And he has but one fault--he's too fond of the pewter.
Then there's little BULKELY....