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Moore, Thomas, 1779-1852

"The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Collected by Himself with Explanatory Notes"


You remember last season, when things went perverse on.
We had to engage (as a block to rehearse on)
One Mr. Vansittart, a good sort of person,
Who's also employed for this season to play,
In "Raising the Wind," and "the Devil to Pay."[2]
We expect too--at least we've been plotting and planning--
To get that great actor from Liverpool, Canning;
And, as at the Circus there's nothing attracts
Like a good _single combat_ brought in 'twixt the acts,
If the Manager should, with the help of Sir Popham,
Get up new _diversions_ and Canning should stop 'em,
Who knows but we'll have to announce in the papers,
"Grand fight--second time--with additional capers."
Be your taste for the ludicrous, humdrum, or sad,
There is plenty of each in this House to be had.
Where our Manager ruleth, there weeping will be,
For a _dead hand at tragedy_ always was he;
And there never was dealer in dagger and cup,
Who so _smilingly_ got all his tragedies up.
His powers poor Ireland will never forget,
And the widows of Walcheren weep o'er them yet.
So much for the actors;--for secret machinery,
Traps, and deceptions, and shifting of scenery,
Yarmouth and Cum are the best we can find,
To transact all that trickery business behind.
The former's employed too to teach us French jigs,
Keep the whiskers in curl and look after the wigs.


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