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WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR.
SPOKEN BY MR. MIDDLETON.
WHO wrote this play some might be glad to know, And why a secret---I'll attempt to thew--A certain youth, his name---no matter what, Resolv'd to try if he could act or not, And to be seen by all, by none be known, Fixt on this project to deceive the town, Cautious, or voice, or feature to expose, Poor Mungo was the part our Novice chose. He locks his door, and smears his face with cork, Looks in the glass, laughs, and admires his works He dances, fings, and all fo like a black, An elbow chair, the hamper on his back; Asks of the manager to take a trial, And spouting decent, meets with no denial. Up go the bills, the Padlock now the farce is, So careful, even in black face he rehearses; Curious to know who this same stranger is, We scan each tone and trace the footy phiz. It's Mr. this --Lord that --conjecture, doubt, Not one of us can make the younker out. 'The house is full, behind the culprit stands, Now fear appalls, now hope his breast expands; Peeps thro' the curtain, trembling cons his part, The prompter's bell now strikes
Poor Mungo meeting with deserv'd success,
Sir Carrol O'Donovan,
Mr. AICKIN. O'Donovan (under the name of
Lary Kavanagh), ........ Mr. HOLMAN. Aircourt,
Mr. LEWIS. Larry Kavanagh (under the
name of O'Donovan), Mr. BLANCHARD. Alibi,
Mr. QUICK. Methegling ....
Mr. EDWIN. Nol Pros,
Mr. Booth. Pavot,
A Room at the Toy Tavern.
Enter AIRCOURT and IA WAITER.
ift Wait. Yes, your honor-the crew of your pleasure barge dined with us last Sunday.
Air. Is old Alibi, the Attorney, often down at Hainpton Court ?
ift Wait. Why, yes, Sir--he's now over at his
Air. Have you seen his ward, Miss Sophia, lately? ist Wait. Ah, poor young Lady! he feldom lets
go out, but to church ;-a charity for some Gentleman, like your honor, to whip off to church
Air. Why, Ned, I have some notion ;-but to give you a fimile in your own way-the old black tascal keeps her close as a cork in a bottle: which, get out, I mustn't bolt inward, but turn screw