| |
| WITH 1 sickly Actors and an old House too, | |
| We’re match’d with glorious Theatres and new, | |
| And with our Ale-house scenes and Cloaths bare worn | |
| Can neither raise old Plays nor new adorn. | |
| If all these Ills could not undo us quite, | 5 |
| A brisk French Troop is grown your dear delight; | |
| Who with broad bloudy Bills call you each day | |
| To laugh and break your Buttons at their Play; | |
| Or see some serious Piece, which we presume | |
| Is fall’n from some incomparable plume; | 10 |
| And therefore, Messieurs, if you’ll do us Grace, | |
| Send Lacquies early to preserve your Place. | |
| We dare not on your Priviledge intrench, | |
| Or ask you why you like ’em? They are French. | |
| Therefore some go with Courtesie exceeding, | 15 |
| Neither to hear nor see, but show their Breeding: | |
| Each Lady striving to out-laugh the rest; | |
| To make it seem they understood the Jest. | |
| Their Countrymen come in, and nothing pay, | |
| To teach us English where to clap the play: | 20 |
| Civil, Igad; Our Hospitable Land | |
| Bears all the Charge, for them to understand: | |
| Mean time we languish, and neglected lye, | |
| Like Wives, while you keep better Company; | |
| And wish for our own sakes, without a Satyr, | 25 |
| You’d less good Breeding or had more good Nature. | |
