human
You who each day can theatres behold, Like Nero's palace, shining all in gold, Our mean, ungilded stage will scorn, we fear, And for the homely room disdain the cheer.
gpt
Yet if some pride with want may be allowed, We in our plainness may be justly proud: Our royal master willed it should be so; Whate'er he's pleased to own can need no show. That sacred name gives ornament and grace, And, like his stamp, makes basest metal pass. 'Twere folly now a stately pile to raise, To build a playhouse, while you throw down plays. While scenes, machines, and empty operas reign, And for the pencil you the pen disdain: While troops of famished Frenchmen hither drive, And laugh at those upon whose alms they live, Old English authors vanish, and give place To these new conquerors of the Norman race.
human
So we expect the lovers, braves, and wits; The gaudy house with scenes will serve for cits.