Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplext, Don't you think the best way is to venture for't twice? Ah! the Doctor is loo'd. Come, Doctor, put down. For giving advice that is not worth a straw May well be call'd picking of pockets in law; Pray what are their crimes? They've been pilfering found. The same. 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- But then they're so handsome, one's bosom it grieves: There's the parish of Edmonton offers forty pounds. There's the parish of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, offers forty pounds. There's the parish of Tyburn, from the Hog in the Pound to St. Giles's Watch-house, 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? For ten pounds in hand and ten pounds to be spent. I challenge you all to answer this. I tell you, you cannot. It cuts deep; but now for the rest of the letter; and nextbut I want room. So I believe I shall battle the rest out at Barton some day next week. I don't value you all. O. G. INTENDED EPILOGUE TO "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER."" Enter MRS. BULKLEY, who courtesies very low as beginning to speak; then enter MISS CATLEY, who stands full before her, and courtesies to the audience. MRS. BULKLEY. HOLD, ma'am, your pardon. What's your business here? MISS CATLEY. The epilogue. MRS. BULKLEY. The epilogue? MISS CATLEY. Yes, the epilogue, my dear. First printed in "Miscellaneous Works," 1801. A copy of this epilogue, in Goldsmith's handwriting, given to the late Dr. Farr, his fellow-student at Edinburgh, remains, it is said, in the family of that gentleman. MRS. BULKLEY. Sure you mistake, ma'am. The epilogue? I bring it. MISS CATLEY. Excuse me, ma'am. The author bid me sing it. Recitative. Ye beaux and belles that form this splendid ring, MRS. BULKLEY. 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. MISS CATLEY. What if we leave it to the house? MRS. BULKLEY. The house! Agreed. MISS CATLEY. Agreed. MRS. BULKLEY. And she whose party's largest shall proceed. MISS CATLEY. 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, Still thus address the fair with voice beguiling. Air-Cotillon. Turn, my fairest, turn, if ever Yes, I shall die, hu, hu, hu, hu! MRS. BULKLEY. Let all the old pay homage to your merit; Give me the young, the gay, the men of spirit. Of French friseurs and nosegays justly vain, To dress and look like awkward Frenchmen here, Their hands are only lent to the Heinel. MISS CATLEY. Ay, take your travellers-travellers indeed! [Da capo. Give me my bonny Scot, that travels from the Tweed. Air-"A Bonny Young Lad is my Jockey." I sing to amuse you by night and by day, With Sandy and Sawney and Jockey, MRS. BULKLEY. Ye gamesters who, so eager in pursuit, Make but of all your fortune one va toute; "My Lord,-Your Lordship misconceives the case;" Doctors, who cough and answer every misfortuner, MISS CATLEY. Air" Ballinamony." Ye brave Irish lads, hark away to the crack, Assist me, I pray, in this woful attack; For sure I don't wrong you-you seldom are slack, And death is your only preventive: MRS. BULKLEY. Well, madam, what if, after all this sparring, MISS CATLEY. And that our friendship may remain unbroken, And now with late repentance, Un-epilogued the poet waits his sentence. To thrive by flattery-though he starves by wit. [Exeunt. |