to such goodness? But our future obedience shall be the best reply. And, as for this gentleman, to whom we owe

Sir Will. Excuse me, sir, if I interrupt your thanks, as I have here an interest that calls me. (Turring to Honeywood.) Yes, sir, you are surprised to see me; and I own that a desire of correcting your follies led me hither. I saw, with indignation, the errors of a mind, that only sought applause from others; the easiness of disposition, which, though inclined to the right, had not courage to condemn the wrong. I saw, with regret, those splendid errors, that still took name from some neighbouring duty. Your charity, that was but injustice; your benevolence, that was but weakness; and your friendship, but credulity. I saw, with regret, great talents and extensive learning only employed to add sprightliness to error, and increase your perplexities. I saw your mind, with a thousand natural charms: but the greatness of its beauty served only to heighten my pity for its prostitution.

Honeyw. Cease to upbraid me, sir: I have, for some time, but too strongly felt the justice of your reproaches. But there is one way still left me. Yes, sir, I have determined, this very hour, to quit for ever a place where I have made myself the voluntary slave of all; and to seek among strangers that fortitude which may give strength to the mind, and marshal all its dissipated virtues. Yet, ere I depart, permit me to solicit favour for this gentleman: who, notwithstanding what has happened, has laid me under the most signal obligations. Mr. Lofty

Lofty. Mr. Honeywood, I am resolved upon a reformation as well as you. I now begin to find, that the man who first invented the art of speaking truth, was a much cunninger fellow than I thought him. And, to prove that I design to truth for the future, I must now assure you, that you owe your late enlargement to another; as, upon my soul, I had no hand in the matter. So now, if any of the company has a mind for preferment, he may take my place, I'm determined to resign. [Exit.

Honeyw. How have I been deceived!

Sir Will. No, sir, you have been obliged to a kinder, fairer friend, for that favour to Miss Richland. Would she complete our joy, and make the man she has honoured by her friendship, happy in her love, I should then forget all, and be as blest as the welfare of my dearest kinsman can make me.

Miss Rich. After what is past, it would be but affectation to pretend to indifference. Yes, I will own an attachment, which, I find, was more than friendship. And if my intreaties cannot alter his resolution to quit the country, I will even try if my hand has not power to detain him. [Giving her hand.

Honeyw. Heavens! how can I have deserved all this? How express my happiness, my gratitude! A moment, like this, overpays an age of apprehension.

Croaker. Well, now I see content in every face; but Heaven send we be all better this day three months.

Sir Will. Henceforth, nephew, learn to respect yourself. He who seeks only for applause from without, has all his happiness in another's keeping.

Honeyw. Yes, sir, I now too plainly perceive my errors. My vanity, in attempting to please all, by fearing to offend any. My meanness, in approving folly, lest fools should disapprove. Henceforth, therefore, it shall be my study to reserve my pity for real distress; my friendship for true merit, and my love for her who first taught me what it is to be happy.

EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY MRS. BULKLEY,

As puffing quacks some caitiff wretch procure,
To swear the pill, or drop, has wrought a cure;
Thus on the stage, our play-wrights still depend,
For Epilogues and Prologues, on some friend,
Who knows each art of coaxing up the town,
And make full many a bitter pill go down.
Conscious of this, our bard has gone about,
And teaz'd each rhyming friend to help him out.
'An Epilogue, things can't go on without it;
It could not fail, would you but set about it.'
"Young man,' cries one (a bard laid up in clover),
'Alas young man, my writing days are over;
Let boys play tricks, and kick the straw, not I;
Your brother-doctor there, perhaps, may try.'
'What I, dear sir?' the doctor interposes;

What plant my thistle, sir, among his roses?
No, no, I've other contests to maintain;
To night I head our troops at Warwick-lane.
Go, ask your manager.'Who me? Your pardon;
Those things are not our forte at Covent-garden.'

The author, in expectation of an Epilogue from a friend at Oxford, deferred writing one himself till the very last hour. What is here offered owes all its success to the graceful manner of the actress who spoke it. 16

Our author's friends, thus placed at happy distance,
Give him good words, indeed, but no assistance.
As some unhappy wight, at some new play,
At the pit-door stands elbowing away,
While oft with many a smile, and many a shrug,
He eyes the centre, where his friends sit snug:
His simpering friends, with pleasure in their eyes,
Sink as he sinks, and as he rises rise:

He nods, they nod; he cringes, they grimace;
But not a soul will budge to give him place.
Since then, unhelp'd, our bard must now conform,
To 'bide the pelting of this pitiless storm:
Blame where you must, be candid where you can,
And be each critic the Good-Natured Man,

· TO

SAMUEL JOHNSON, LLT.

DEAR SIR,

By inscribing this slight performance to you, I do not mean so much to compliment you as myself. It may do me some honour to inform the public, that I have lived many years in intimacy with you. It may serve the interests of mankind, also, to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety.

I have, particularly, reason to thank you for your partiality to this performance. The undertaking a Comedy not merely sentimental, was very dangerous; and Mr. Colman, who saw this piece in its various stages, always thought it so. However, I ventured to trust it to the public; and though it was necessarily delayed till late in the season, I have every reason to be grateful.

I am, dear Sir,

Your most sincere friend and admirer,

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.