"Thee from his box the macaroni eyes; With levell'd tube he takes his distant stand, Trembling beholds the horrid storm arise, And feels for reinhold when you raise your hand; At distance he enjoys the boisterous scene, And thanks his God the pit is plac'd between. "So, 'midst the starry honours of the night, The sage explores a comet's fiery course; Fearful he views its wild eccentric flight, And shudders at its overwhelming force: At distance safe he marks the glaring ray, Thankful his world is not within its way. "Proceed then, Catley, in thy great career, And nightly let our maidens hear and see, The sweetest voice disgust the listening ear, The sweetest form assume deformity: Thus shalt thou arm them with their best defence, And teach them modesty by impudence." [154] The late Lord Orrery was a singularly formal character. Sir Anthony Branville, in _The Discovery_, was intended for his portrait, and exhibits a strong likeness. It was sometimes the wish of Mr. Garrick to play upon the suavity of this old nobleman, and induce him to contradict himself. This power he exerted very successfully on the following occasion:--Lord Orrery wrote a letter from Ireland to Mr. Garrick, requesting that Mossop might be engaged. The request of a man of rank was, to the manager of Drury Lane, a command, and Mossop was engaged. When, some months afterwards, the peer came to England, he took an early opportunity of breakfasting with Mr. Garrick: the moment he entered the room, he began his favourite subject. _Orrery._ "David, I congratulate you: I inquire not about the success of your theatre; with yourself and Mossop, it must be triumphant. The Percy and the Douglas both in arms, have a right to be confident. Separate, you were two bright luminaries; united, you are a constellation--the _Gemini_ of the theatric hemisphere. Excepting yourself, my dear David, no man that ever trod on tragic ground has so forcibly exhibited the various passions that agitate, and I may say agonize, the human mind. He makes that broad stroke at the heart which, being aimed by the hand of nature, reaches the prince or the peasant, the peer or the plebeian. He is not the mere player of fashion; for the player of fashion, David, may be compared to a man tossed in a blanket: the very instant his supporters quit their hold of the coverlet, down drops the hero of the day. However, as general assertions do not carry conviction, I will arrange my opinions under different heads, not doubting your assent to my declarations, which shall be founded on facts, and built upon experience. First of the first,--his voice; his voice is the _vox argentea_ of the ancients, the silver tone, of which so much has been written, but which never struck upon a modern ear till Mossop spoke,--'then mute attention reigned.'"