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Slie then, as oil ;is liimself, appeared much affected ; for the audience, not satisfied with the usual method of shewing their approbation, stood up upon the seats and cheered her, waving their hats for several minutes.
At the end of the sleeping Boene, the plaudits continued from the time ' of hex going off till she again appeared to speak her address, which was neatly a quarter of an hour, which she delivered in a very impressi Te manner; and at the oonelusion of which Mr Eemhie eeme and led her off by the hand.
Here is an inierestins^ deeoription of Siddo Bs* farewell of tlio public, a short Urne after, at Co vent Garden Theatre : — )^ **'na B celelnaied aoins B last night dosed hex pvo- fessional oaxeer at this Theatre, in the part of 'Lady Macbeth/ for her own benefit.
Doors to be opened at Half-past Six o'clock, and to begin at Haif-p Ast Seven pradsely ; xu) l Oaoat ttin IM kitpt aftov tt M Iii A Of ti M VM ^ Boxes, 5b.— Pit, 23. Tickets to be had, and Places in the Boxes to bo taken, of Mx PHSLi.cn, at the llk Mt M, from Vltfta IQl Thzaa.
Judges and Friends t to whom the tragic strain Of nature's feeling never spoke in vain, Perhaps your hearts, when years have glided by.
Here are copies of them A BULL BAIT AT HOVE, On MONDAY, JUNE l Uh, 1810. From want of support the Circus had but a short existence, closing in 1812 ; the premises for some years after were used as a Bazaar, and above the stall of Mrs liichardsou tliere was suspended an immense painting. Wbo has not ligh'd, when dooro*d to leave at last The hopes of youth, the habita of the paat, The thousand ties and inteieata, that impart A aecond nature to the human heart. The following is a copy of the Address spoken by Mrs Siddons : — Who h M not felt, how growing use endears The fend remembnnce of our fanner yean ? Is now the mourner she but sccm'd before, — Herself subdued, resigns the melting spell, And breathes, with swelling heart, her long, her last £arewe U ! And past emotions wake a fleeting sigh, May think on her, whose lips have pour'd so long The charmed sorrows of your Shakspeare's song;— On her, who, parting to return no more.
And long-forgotten years, that almost seem The faded traces of a monung dream I Sweet are those mournful thoughts: lor they renew The pleasing sence of a D I owe to you.