Nature's deserted, and dramatic art, To dazzle now the eye, has left the heart;[15] Gay lights and dresses, long extended scenes, Demons and angels moving in machines, All that can now, or please, or fright the fair, May be performed without a writer's care, And is the skill of carpenter, not player. Old Shakespeare's days could not thus far advance; But what's his buskin to our ladder dance?[16] In the mid region a silk youth to stand, With that unwieldly engine at command! Gorged with intemperate meals while here you sit, Well may you take activity for wit: Fie, let confusion on such dulness seize; Blush, you're so pleased, as we that so we please. But we, still kind to your inverted sense, Do most unnatural things once more dispense. For since you're still preposterous in delight, Our Author made, a full house to invite, A funeral a Comedy to-night. Nor does he fear that you will take the hint, And let the funeral his own be meant; No, in old England nothing can be won Without a faction, good or ill be done; To own this our frank Author does not fear; But hopes for a prevailing party here; He knows he's numerous friends; nay, knows they'll show it, And for the fellow-soldier, save the poet. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. LORD BRUMPTON. LORD HARDY, Son to LORD BRUMPTON, in love with LADY SHARLOT. Mr. CAMPLEY, in love with LADY HARRIOT. Mr. TRUSTY, Steward to LORD BRUMPTON. CABINET. Mr. SABLE, an Undertaker. PUZZLE, a Lawyer. TRIM, Servant to LORD HARDY. TOM, the Lawyer's Clerk. LADY BRUMPTON. LADY SHARLOT, LADY HARRIOT, Orphan Sisters, left in ward to LORD BRUMPTON. Mademoiselle D'EPINGLE. TATTLEAID, LADY BRUMPTON'S Woman. Mrs. FARDINGALE. KATE MATCHLOCK. Visitant Ladies, SABLE'S Servants, Recruits, &c. SCENE.--COVENT GARDEN. _THE FUNERAL: OR, GRIEF À-LA-MODE._ ACT THE FIRST. SCENE--_Covent Garden._ _Enter_ CABINET, SABLE, _and_ CAMPLEY. _Cab._ I burst into laughter, I can't bear to see writ over an undertaker's door, "Dresses for the Dead, and Necessaries for Funerals!" Ha! ha! ha! _Sab._ Well, gentlemen, 'tis very well; I know you are of the laughers, the wits that take the liberty to deride all things that are magnificent and solemn. _Cam._ Nay, but after all, I can't but admire Sable's nice discerning on the superfluous cares of mankind, that could lead them to the thought of raising an estate by providing horses, equipage, and furniture, for those that no longer need 'em. _Cab._ But is it not strangely contradictory, that men can come to so open, so apparent an hypocrisy, as in the face of all the world, to hire professed mourners to grieve, lament, and follow in their stead their nearest relations, and suborn others to do by art what they themselves should be prompted to by nature?