English poem
The Dramatic Race
by Anonymous
Clear, clear the course—make room—make room I say! Now they are off, and Jonson makes the play. I'll bet the odds—done sir, with you and you; SHAKESPEARE keeps near him—and he'll win it too: Here's even money—done for a hundred, done— Now Jonson! now, or never—he has won. I'll take my oath, that SHAKESPEARE won the prize— Damme! whoever says he lost it, lies.
More by Anonymous
- The Devil-painter. a Tale
- The Disconsolate Sailor
- The Disconsolate Sailor's Return
- The doubting Christian. (annext to a Sermon adapted for Self-Examination, on 1 John iii. 7, 8. December…
- The Dream, by Mr. J. Talbot. Occasioned by the Death of Lady Seymour
- The Drooping Rose
- The Drum
- The Drunken Soldier. a Parody