The crowds that come here, made of Beauty and Ninny, Take--each takes a seat in the stall for a guinea; Our great managerial actor then bows, And, oh! with what pleasure he views _the front rows_! Then let, &c. At the Opera they boast of the band and the _chori_, Of Lindley,--of Balfe,--Dragonetti, and Mori; But here finished art, perfect touch, take their station, For who beats our hero in _instrumentation_? Then let, &c. There's _Richard the Third_ is a favourite part, And he mouths it, like some of our players, by heart; But remember that Gloster, when first he drew breath, Was shaped like a _screw_--with a _full set of teeth_. Then let, &c. Macbeth may effectively fall to his lot, For where's such an artist for "_Out_, damned _spot_!" And we see, where those old annotators were blind,-- For the issue of Duncan, why he _filed_ his mind. Then let, &c. He does not play Lear (Forrest does--so does Booth), For he thinks the "How sharper!" is wrong on the _tooth_! His company's good, else why full stall and bench? But, though he likes _Power_, he won't hear of _Wrench_! Then let, &c. Through pieces--light farce--Fame our favorite then next tracks,-- Single acts, single scenes, pungent touches, smart extracts! With Colman's Review, too, he's coupled by some, For he, like John Lump, gets a "guinea _by Gum_!" Then let, &c. Then, with riches at will, oh! how liberal the lord Of this mansion is found at the banquet and board! Still, though wealth comes from east and from west, north and south, Yet some _will_ say he lives but from mere _hand to mouth_! Then let, &c. But cautious he should be,--though bright be the day,-- For he knows, best of any, the works of decay; And he ne'er should forget, in this splendid--this top age, That when he _won't_ draw, he inclines then to _stoppage_. Then let, &c. But long may he flourish--long, long here preside, To give "harmless pleasure" to thousands beside! Age is baffled by him,--we're still rich,--let it fret! Oh! if hundreds are lost, we can have a _new set_! Then let, &c. R. KYAN'S PATENT--THE NINE MUSES,--AND THE DRY-ROT. "That which is most elaborate in nature is that which soonest runs to decay." FARADAY.