Round and round go the cards, while I inwardly damn, At never once finding a visit from Pam. I lay down my stake, apparently cool, While the harpies about me all pocket the pool; The whole pool as my own. Come, give me five cards." I ask for advice from the lady that's next. Pray, Ma'am, be so good as to give your advice; Don't you think the best way is to venture for 't twice? For giving advice that is not worth a straw, May well be called picking of pockets in law; 1 Miss Mary Horneck, "the Jessamy Bride." See ante, p. 94; also Life,' v. i., pp. 32, 41; and, for some charming speculation as to the Jessamy Bride and Goldsmith, see Washington Irving's 'Life' of the poet.-ED. 2 Sir John Fielding, the half-brother of Henry Fielding, the novelist. He was a famous magistrate at Bow Street Police Court.-ED. And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye, What justice, when both to the Old Bailey brought! 66 'Pray what are their crimes? "They've been pilfering found.' "But, pray whom have they pilfer'd?" "A Doctor, I hear;' "What, yon solemn-faced, odd-looking man that stands. near?" "The same." one ! "What a pity! How does it surprise Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on!" Then their friends all come round me with cringing and leering, To melt me to pity and soften my swearing. First Sir Charles advances with phrases well strung: "Consider, dear Doctor, the girls are but young." “The younger the worse," I return him again, "It shows that their habits are all dyed in grain." “But then they're so handsome; one's bosom it grieves." "What signifies handsome when people are thieves?" "But where is your justice? Their cases are hard. "What signifies justice? I want the reward." "There's the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds; there's the parish of St. Leonard's, Shoreditch, offers forty pounds; there's the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog-in-the-Pound to St. Giles's watchhouse, offers forty pounds, I shall have all that if I convict them." "But consider their case, it may yet be your own! And see how they kneel! is your heart made of stone?" This moves:-so at last I agree to relent, For ten pounds in hand and ten pounds to be spent. I challenge you all to answer this: I tell you, you can not. It cuts deep ;-but now for the rest of the letter; and next-but I want room. So I believe I shall battle the rest out at Barton some day next week. I don't value you all! SONG.1 O. G. [Intended to have been sung in the comedy of 'She Stoops to Conquer' [1773]; but omitted, because Mrs. Bulkley, who acted the part of Miss Hardcastle, could not sing.-BOSWELL: vide note below.] Ан me! when shall I marry me? Lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me. He, fond youth, that could carry me, Offers to love, but means to deceive me. But I will rally, and combat the ruiner: 2 Not a look, not a smile shall my passion discover. She that gives all to the false one pursuing her, Makes but a penitent-loses a lover.3 EPILOGUE SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY AND MISS CATLEY. 6 [This Epilogue, headed as above, first appeared in Percy's edition of the Works,' 1801. It seems pretty certain, however, from the following letter by Goldsmith, that the heading should have been different, and that the epilogue was intended for She Stoops to Conquer,' but never delivered. Writing without date, but evidently just after the production of his comedy, Goldsmith says to his friend Cradock, "The play has met with a success much beyond your expectations or mine. I thank 1 This song was communicated, after Goldsmith's death, to the editor of the London Magazine' (June, 1774), by Boswell, the biographer of Dr. Johnson. Goldsmith himself, says Boswell, used to sing it to a pretty Irish air called the Humours of Ballamagairy,' to which he confessed that he found it very difficult to adapt words.-ED. 2 So in London Magazine.' The usual version is-"nor a smile.” -ED. 3 So in London Magazine.' The usual reading is" and loses a lover."-ED. you sincerely for your epilogue, which, however, could not be used, but with your permission shall be printed. The story in short is this; Murphy sent me rather the outline of an epilogue than an epilogue, which was to be sung by Mrs. Catley, and which she approved. Mrs. Bulkley hearing this, insisted on throwing up her part, unless, according to the custom of the theatre, she were permitted to speak the epilogue. In this embarrassment I thought of making a quarrelling epilogue between Catley and her, debating who should speak the epilogue, but then Mrs. Catley refused after I had taken the trouble of drawing it out. I was then at a loss indeed; an epilogue was to be made, and for none but Mrs. Bulkley. I made one, and Colman thought it too bad to be spoken; I was obliged therefore to try a fourth time, and I made a very mawkish thing as you'll shortly see.' Such is the history of my stage adventures, and which I have at last done with. I cannot help saying that I am very sick of the stage; and though I believe I shall get three tolerable benefits, yet I shall on the whole be a loser, even in a pecuniary light; my ease and comfort I certainly lost while it was in agitation" (Letters, v. i.). It seems clear, therefore, that this is the “quarrelling epilogue" rejected by Miss Catley, and that its heading should be “Epilogue intended to have been spoken by," &c.—ED.] Enter Mrs. Bulkley, who curtsies very low, as beginning to speak; then enter Miss Catley, who stands full before her and curtsies to the audience. Mrs. Bulkley. HOLD, Ma'am, your pardon. What's your business here? Miss Catley. The Epilogue. Mrs. B. The Epilogue? Miss C. Yes, the Epilogue, my dear. Mrs. B. Sure you mistake, Ma'am. The Epilogue? bring it. Miss C. Excuse me, Ma'am. The author bid me sing it. Recitative. Ye beaux and belles, that form this splendid ring, Mrs. B. Why, sure the girl's beside herself! an Epilogue of singing? A hopeful end, indeed, to such a blest beginning. Besides, a singer in a comic set!— Excuse me, Ma'am, I know the etiquette. The epilogue actually spoken, which will be found at the end of 'She Stoops to Conquer.-ED. Miss C. What if we leave it to the house? Mrs. B. The house!-Agreed. Miss C. Agreed. Mrs. B. And she whose party's largest shall proceed. And first, I hope you'll readily agree I've all the critics and the wits for me. Miss C. I'm for a different set:-Old men, whose trade is Still to gallant and dangle with the ladies. Recitative. Who mump their passion, and who, grimly smiling, AIR.-Cotillon. Turn, my fairest, turn, if ever Yes, I shall die, hu, hu, hu, hu! [Da Capo. Mrs. B. Let all the old pay homage to your merit; Give me the young, the gay, the men of spirit. Ye travell❜d tribe, ye macaroni train, Of French friseurs and nosegays justly vain, To dress, and look like awkward Frenchmen here,— Their hands are only lent to the Heinel.' Miss C. Ay, take your travellers-travellers indeed! 1 Mlle. Heinel, a French dancer at the Opera House, in great vogue in 1773.-ED. |