On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.
--Shakspkare's Tempest.
So fare you well; I have left you commands.
Ibid.--As you like it.
"'Tis true, and pity 'tis, 'tis true,"
That though on fairest winds we flew,
I in the clouds, beneath them you,
We still must parted be;
And that, e'en whilst the world still hung
On what you wrote, and what I sung,
Enamour'd of our double tongue,
Exits my Bernard B-----.
Well, all great actors must have pause,
When toiling in a patriot cause,
And ere another scene he draws,
New characters to cast,
~340~~
Secure of having played his part,
As nature dictates, from the heart,
'Tis fair before another start,
He brush up from the last.
But how will humbugs of the age,
(I don't mean Mr. B.'s dull page,)
Crow that they scape satiric rage,
And get off in whole skins;
How will dramatic fools rejoice!
No more is heard great Bernard's voice,
And that, Heav'n knows, there is a choice,
Their flummery begins.{1}
But go your ways; it may be wise,
To let these puny, pestering flies
Buzz about people's ears and eyes,
A season or two longer;
There must be evil mixed with good,
A bottom to the clearest flood,
And let them stand where others stood,
Till shown who is the stronger.
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