Still SKEFFINGTON and GOOSE divide the prize. And sure 'great' Skeffington must claim our praise, For skirtless coats and skeletons of plays Renowned alike; whose genius ne'er confines 600 Her flight to garnish Greenwood's gay designs; [xlvii] [94] Nor sleeps with "Sleeping Beauties," but anon In five facetious acts comes thundering on. While poor John Bull, bewildered with the scene, Stares, wondering what the devil it can mean; But as some hands applaud, a venal few! Rather than sleep, why John applauds it too. Such are we now. Ah! wherefore should we turn To what our fathers were, unless to mourn? Degenerate Britons! are ye dead to shame, 610 Or, kind to dulness, do you fear to blame? Well may the nobles of our present race Watch each distortion of a NALDI'S face; Well may they smile on Italy's buffoons, And worship CATALANI's pantaloons, [95] Since their own Drama yields no fairer trace Of wit than puns, of humour than grimace. [96] Then let Ausonia, skill'd in every art To soften manners, but corrupt the heart, Pour her exotic follies o'er the town, 620 To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down: Let wedded strumpets languish o'er DESHAYES, And bless the promise which his form displays; While Gayton bounds before th' enraptured looks Of hoary Marquises, and stripling Dukes: Let high-born lechers eye the lively Presle Twirl her light limbs, that spurn the needless veil; Let Angiolini bare her breast of snow, Wave the white arm, and point the pliant toe; Collini trill her love-inspiring song, 630 Strain her fair neck, and charm the listening throng! Whet [97] not your scythe, Suppressors of our Vice! Reforming Saints! too delicately nice! By whose decrees, our sinful souls to save, No Sunday tankards foam, no barbers shave; And beer undrawn, and beards unmown, display Your holy reverence for the Sabbath-day.