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His horrid caricature of hunchbacked Richard,
Or his bestial libel on heroic Joan."
Now, sir, I don't endorse all Robert says,
(His pen, I fancy, masters him at times,
And writes down things which no one is astonished
More than their author is to see in print:)
But I do think that if you take away
His six or seven masterpieces, Shakespeare
Falls to a level which may well be reached,
Or overleaped even by your humble servant.
But let that pass; comparisons are odious,
And I'm content posterity should judge
Between me and the Elizabethan bard:
That is, I should be well content could I
But get my plays produced upon the stage,
Or could I even find a publisher
With enterprise enough to make them known
To the great British public. Genius, sir,
Both manager and publisher are blind to,
And so my plays remain unknown, unacted,
And I make but a poor precarious living
By writing songs (at half a crown a time)
For music-hall professionals. Dame Fortune
Has never yet your humble servant favoured,
And at the present moment worse than usual
She's treating me. Behold! my purse contains
Not even a copper coin. I know not
How to replenish it. I should be in luck
If some kind soul would lend me half a crown.
Thanks, friend; my lucky star must rise some day,
I shan't be always penniless, unknown,
And down at heel; depend on't I'll repay you.
Or his bestial libel on heroic Joan."
Now, sir, I don't endorse all Robert says,
(His pen, I fancy, masters him at times,
And writes down things which no one is astonished
More than their author is to see in print:)
But I do think that if you take away
His six or seven masterpieces, Shakespeare
Falls to a level which may well be reached,
Or overleaped even by your humble servant.
But let that pass; comparisons are odious,
And I'm content posterity should judge
Between me and the Elizabethan bard:
That is, I should be well content could I
But get my plays produced upon the stage,
Or could I even find a publisher
With enterprise enough to make them known
To the great British public. Genius, sir,
Both manager and publisher are blind to,
And so my plays remain unknown, unacted,
And I make but a poor precarious living
By writing songs (at half a crown a time)
For music-hall professionals. Dame Fortune
Has never yet your humble servant favoured,
And at the present moment worse than usual
She's treating me. Behold! my purse contains
Not even a copper coin. I know not
How to replenish it. I should be in luck
If some kind soul would lend me half a crown.
Thanks, friend; my lucky star must rise some day,
I shan't be always penniless, unknown,
And down at heel; depend on't I'll repay you.
1886-1899
14
