The Clandestine Marriage

Their be_t and riche_t Stores, have made this Law:

That each _hould neighbourly a__i_t his Brother,

And _teal with Decency from one another.

To-night, your matchle_s Hogarth gives the Thought,

Which from his Canvas to the Stage is brought.

And who _o fit to warm the Poet's Mind,

As he who pictur'd Morals and Mankind?

But not the _ame their Characters and Scenes;

Both labour for one End, by different Means:

Each, as it _uits him, takes a _eparate Road,

Their one great Object, Marriage-a-la-mode!

Where Titles deign with Cits to have and hold,

And change rich Blood for more _ub_tantial Gold!

And honour'd Trade from Intere_t turns a_ide,

To hazard Happine_s for titled Pride.

The Painter dead, yet _till he charms the Eye;

While England lives, his Fame can never die:

But he, who _truts his Hour upon the Stage,

Can _carce extend his Fame for Half an Age;

Nor Pen nor Pencil can the Actor _ave,

The Art, and Arti_t, _hare one common Grave.

_O let me drop one tributary Tear,

On poor Jack Fal_taff's Grave, and Juliet's Bier!

You to their Worth mu_t Te_timony give;

'Tis in your Hearts alone their Fame can live.

Still as the Scenes of Life will _hift away,

The _trong Impre__ions of their Art decay.

Your Children cannot feel what you have known;

They'll boa_t of Quins and Cibbers of their own:

The greate_t Glory of our happy few,

Is to be felt, and be approv'd by you.