LIII.

And there he found it waiting, cut and dry.

As captious scribblers, grumble at delay,
The kind Lessee, intent to gratify,

Printed the answer while Tom wrote the play.
A good expedient this, because one call
Might easily be made to serve for all.

LIV.

This promptness is more glorious in the wight,
Who, to his everlasting honour be it

Made known, admits 'tis hard good plays to write,
But harder still to know one when you see it.
And so to read-here's reason with the rhyme-
Were wasting his invaluable time.

LV.

Tom got the letter, then, and O! the thrill

It gave I'd paint, if Heaven would teach me how.

Hopes not more rapturous can his bosom fill,

Who in the Lottery holds a sixteenth now, Hopes just as rational, and just as short;

Witness the Acting Manager's report.

Drury Letter of Rejection.

LVI.

"I am instructed to return you, Sir?

The manuscript

(a blank Tom stared to see

Left by the printer for the manager),

66

By you submitted to great Mr. E.

The reasons he your play thinks uninviting
You'll spare me the necessity of writing.

LVII.

"But they are founded, it should be expressed, On strict impartiality, (which force

Must give them,) and attention too-the best."

(The best in quality was meant, of course; The Manager could not intend to say

He much in quantity had thrown away.)

I

LVIII.

"And Mr. E.-don't let it make you blush,
Is flatter'd by the preference you, who sent
A tragedy not worth a single rush,

Have thus evinced for his establishment.
Its interests still he hopes will be your care,
And further has the honour to declare,

LIX.

"That all his doors, 'tis his determination, Shall open wide to each aspiring bard

To talent of all kinds in every station,

That Mr. E. can sanction or reward;

So do not for a moment be deluded,
To think that merit is with you excluded."

LX.

Takeall, like every dabbler in his line,
Believed his play approach'd the excellent

In plot, with incidents and language fine,

That ought the actors, must the town content ;

And so, like all rejected bards, would swear

That the decision come to was unfair.

LXI.

Marr'd all his prospects, Tom the garret sought
And hired, which Flykite formerly had rented,
And, pondering on the miseries he had brought
Upon himself, he heartily repented

That he had mock'd advice. It is the fate
Of younkers to grow penitent too late.

LXII.

"But vain regret," he cried, " must not consume
My time, for something quickly must be done
To gain subsistence, or from this poor room
I presently shall be obliged to run.
Though baffled cruelly at Drury-Lane,
I resolutely take my pen again.

LXIII.

"But not to write a play-since Managers Can at their pleasure genius hold in fetters,

Rejected once, I'll be no longer theirs,

Unless I nothing else can do by letters; And certainly there is variety

Enough to tempt in prose or poetry.

LXIV.

What mighty engines are the little things

We letters call. 'Tis own'd by foe and friend,

The peace of empires and the fate of kings,

On use of these may frequently depend.

Tom at the vast idea felt surprised,
And thus the Alphabet apostrophized.

Address to the Alphabet.

I wonder, O Alphabet! what would have been
The face of this world, as we mortals pass through,
And what would have cheer'd, and what sadden'd the scene,
Had not Cadmus, or somebody else thought of you!
As matters now stand, or in sorrow or joy,

Almost all that affects, those who read must agree,
The news that delights, the commands that employ,
We gain at thy hands, potent, famed A B C.

A B C, mind I take as the name of the firm,

You're entitled to claim, or to sue or be sued, Initials that now form a popular term

With Alphabet mostly synonymous view'd.