To teach the doubtful rabble where to clap?-- 175
The rabble knows not where our dramas shine;
But where the cane goes pat--_by G-- that's fine_!

[Footnote A: The appearance of the face in the last stage
of a consumption, as it is described by Hippocrates.]

Judge for yourself; nor wait with timid phlegm
Till some illustrious pedant hum or hem. 179
The lords who starv'd old Ben were learn'dly fond
Of Chaucer, whom with bungling toil they conn'd,
Their sons, whose ears bold Milton could not seize, }
Would laugh o'er Ben like mad, and snuff and sneeze, }
And swear, and seem as tickled as you please. }
Their spawn, the pride of this sublimer age, 185
Feel to the toes and horns grave Milton's rage.
Tho' liv'd he now he might appeal with scorn
To Lords, Knights, 'Squires and Doctors, yet unborn;
Or justly mad to Moloch's burning fane
Devote the choicest children of his brain. 190
Judge for yourself; and as you find report.
Of wit as freely as of beef or port.
Zounds! shall a pert or bluff important wight,
Whose brain is fanciless, whose blood is white;
A mumbling ape of taste; prescribe us laws 195
To try the poets, for no better cause
Than that he boasts _per ann._ ten thousand clear,
Yelps in the House, or barely sits a Peer?
For shame! for shame! the liberal British soul
To stoop to any stale dictator's rule! 200