Royal Tunbridge Wells
part that the retired actor had taken in the business, promptly avenged himself with the following lampoon—
" When Quinn, of all grace and dignity void, Murder'd Cato, the censor, and Brutus destroy'd; He strutted, he mouth'd,—you no passion cou'd trace In his action, deliv'ry, or plumb-pudding face; When he massacred Comus, the gay god of mirth, He was suffer'd, because we of actors had dearth, But when Foote, with strong judgment and genuine
wit, Upon all his peculiar absurdities hit; When Garrick arose, with those talents and fire Which nature and all the nine Muses inspire, Poor Guts was neglected, or laugh'd off the stage; So, bursting with envy, and tortur'd with rage, He damn'd the whole town in a fury, and fled, Little Bayes an extinguisher clapped on his head. Yet we never shall Falstaff behold so well done, With such character, humour, such spirit and fun, So great that we knew not which most to admire, Glutton, parasite, pander, pimp, letcher, or liar;— He felt as he spoke;—nature's dictates are true; When he acted the part, his own picture he drew"
The attack upon the Master of the Ceremonies achieved its object, in so far as it induced Derrick to resign his office; but his successor, a Frenchman, in spite of " the abject servility and outrte politeness, for which his countrymen are so celebrated," as a con-162