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DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.
Enter Mr. WOODWARD, dressed in black, and holding a handkerchief to his eyes.
me, Sirs, I pray-I can't yet speakI'm crying now-and have been all the week. "Tis not alone this mourning suit," good masters: "I've that within"-for which there are no plasters! Pray, would you know the reason why I'm crying? The comic muse, long sick, is now a dying! And if she goes, my tears will never stop; For as a play'r, I can't squeeze out one drop; I am undone, that's all-shall lose my breadI'd rather, but that's nothing-lose my head. When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier, Shuter and I shall be chief mourners here. To her a mawkish drab of spurious breed, Who deals in Sentimentals, will succeed! Poor Ned and I are dead to all intents; We can as soon speak Greek as Sentiments! Both nervous grown, to keep our spirits up, We now and then take down a hearty cup. What shall we do?—If Comedy forsake us ? They'll turn us out, and no one else will take us. But, why can't I be moral?-Let me tryMy heart thus pressing-fix'd my face and eye
With a sententious look, that nothing means, (Faces are blocks in sentimental scenes) Thus I begin "All is not gold that glitters, "Pleasures seem sweet, but prove a glass of bitters. · "When ign❜rance enters, folly is at hand:
"Learning is better far than house and land.
"Let not your virtue trip, who trips may stumble,
If you will swallow it, the maid is cur'd: