Oliver Goldsmith

While various bards the comic muse have drest,
In many a prudish, stiff, ungraceful vest,
Each awkward air affected, make her use,
Pinch her in stays, or cramp her in high shoes;
The mighty ruff, and farthingale put on,
And give platonic speech to humble Joan;
Raise high the persons, nature meant shou'd stoop,
And show a Macaroni for Lolpoop;
Make ev'ry order talk above their spheres,
And with stale sentiment offend our ears;
Mistake the passions, and for mirth give pain,
Present the pedant for the simple swain,
They try to make their audience laugh in vain.
'Tis thine the task, O Goldsmith, to restore,
The comic muse to what she was of yore,
And to the stage present her antient ease,
So drest by thee, she cannot fail to please.
While K[enrick] labours in some dull design,
And chills all pleasure, in each frozen line,
The genial soul of comedy is thine.