That, from a hundred hills allied In impious leagues, their king defied. This wonder of the sculptor's hand Produced, his art was at a stand: For who would hope new fame to raise, Or risk his well-established praise, _80 That, his high genius to approve, Had drawn a GEORGE, or carved a Jove! THE PLAY-HOUSE. Where gentle Thames through stately channels glides, And England's proud metropolis divides; A lofty fabric does the sight invade, And stretches o'er the waves a pompous shade; Whence sudden shouts the neighbourhood surprise, And thundering claps and dreadful hissings rise. Here thrifty R----[16] hires monarchs by the day, And keeps his mercenary kings in pay; With deep-mouth'd actors fills the vacant scenes, And rakes the stews for goddesses and queens: _10 Here the lewd punk, with crowns and sceptres graced, Teaches her eyes a more majestic cast; And hungry monarchs with a numerous train Of suppliant slaves, like Sancho, starve and reign. But enter in, my Muse; the stage survey, And all its pomp and pageantry display; Trap-doors and pit-falls, form the unfaithful ground, And magic walls encompass it around: On either side maim'd temples fill our eyes, And intermixed with brothel-houses rise; _20 Disjointed palaces in order stand, And groves obedient to the mover's hand O'ershade the stage, and flourish at command. A stamp makes broken towns and trees entire: So when Amphion struck the vocal lyre, He saw the spacious circuit all around, With crowding woods and rising cities crown'd. But next the tiring-room survey, and see False titles, and promiscuous quality, Confus'dly swarm, from heroes and from queens, _30 To those that swing in clouds and fill machines. Their various characters they choose with art, The frowning bully fits the tyrant's part: Swoln cheeks and swaggering belly make an host, Pale, meagre looks and hollow voice a ghost; From careful brows and heavy downcast eyes, Dull cits and thick-skull'd aldermen arise: The comic tone, inspir'd by Congreve, draws At every word, loud laughter and applause: The whining dame continues as before, _40 Her character unchanged, and acts a whore. Above the rest, the prince with haughty stalks Magnificent in purple buskins walks: The royal robes his awful shoulders grace, Profuse of spangles and of copper-lace: Officious rascals to his mighty thigh, Guiltless of blood, the unpointed weapon tie: Then the gay glittering diadem put on, Ponderous with brass, and starr'd with Bristol-stone. His royal consort next consults her glass, _50 And out of twenty boxes culls a face; The whitening first her ghastly looks besmears, All pale and wan the unfinish'd form appears; Till on her cheeks the blushing purple glows, And a false virgin-modesty bestows. Her ruddy lips the deep vermilion dyes; Length to her brows the pencil's arts supplies,