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[Olivia's song in the Vicar of Wakefield,' chap. xxiv., where it seems to have been first published (1766).—ED.]

WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds, too late, that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,

And wring his bosom, is-to die.


[We have not found this in print earlier than 1777, when it appeared with the eighth edition of Retaliation.' Poor Purdon, however, died "suddenly " ten years before that date.-ED.]

HERE lies poor Ned Purdon, from misery freed,
Who long was a bookseller's hack;

He led such a damnable life in this world,
I don't think he'll wish to come back.


[This epitaph on Thomas Parnell, the poet-Archdeacon of Clogher, whose life Goldsmith wrote, seems to have been first printed in 1776 with 'The Haunch of Venison,' though probably it was written at the time of the Life of Parnell,' 1770.-ED.]

THIS tomb, inscribed to gentle PARNELL's name,
May speak our gratitude, but not his fame.
What heart but feels his sweetly moral lay,

That leads to truth through pleasure's flowery way?

1 This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dublin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's 'Henriade.'-Note in edit. 1777. [Goldsmith revised the translation: see Voltaire in vol. iv.-ED.]

Celestial themes confess'd his tuneful aid;
And Heav'n, that lent him genius, was repaid.
Needless to him the tribute we bestow,

The transitory breath of fame below:

More lasting rapture from his works shall rise,
While converts thank their poet in the skies.


[This Epilogue was spoken by Mrs. Bulkley, who played Miss Autumn in the comedy, and was afterwards the original Miss Hardcastle in She Stoops to Conquer.' The Sister' was produced Feb. 18, 1769. The editors of Goldsmith, including the much relied upon, but often fallible, Percy, very persistently misprint the name 'The Sisters. Our text is that of the first and second editions of the comedy, 1769.-ED.]

WHAT? five long acts—and all to make us wiser!
Our auth'ress sure has wanted an adviser.

Had she consulted me, she should have made
Her moral play a speaking masquerade;

Warm'd up each bustling scene, and, in her rage,


Have emptied all the green-room on the stage.

My life on't, this had kept her play from sinking,

Have pleased our eyes, and saved the pain of thinking.
Well, since she thus has shown her want of skill,
What if I give a masquerade ?—I will.'


But how? ay, there's the rub! [pausing] I've got my cue: The world's a masquerade! the masquers, you, you, you. [To Boxes, Pit, and Gallery.

Lud! what a group the motley scene discloses!

False wits, false wives, false virgins, and false spouses!
Statesmen with bridles on; and, close beside 'em,
Patriots in party-colour'd suits that ride 'em.
There Hebes, turn'd of fifty, try once more

To raise a flame in Cupids of threescore:


1 The Sister' was by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox, author of The Female Quixote,' 'Shakespeare Illustrated,' &c. It was performed one night only at Covent Garden, in 1769, but in print it achieved a second edition. The author, who was praised by Dr. Johnson, as the cleverest female writer of her age (vide Boswell's Life of Johnson,' Bohn's ed., v. viii., p. 272), died in distressed circumstances, Jan. 4, 1804.-ED.

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These, in their turn, with appetites as keen,
Deserting fifty, fasten on fifteen :


Miss, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon,
Flings down her sampler, and takes up the woman;
The little urchin smiles, and spreads her lure,
And trys to kill, ere she's got power to cure.
Thus 'tis with all: their chief and constant care


Is to seem every thing-but what they are.
Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on,
Who seems t' have robb'd his vizor from the lion;

Who frowns, and talks, and swears, with round parade,
Looking, as who should say, Damme! whose afraid? 30

Strip but this vizor off, and, sure I am,
You'll find his lionship a very lamb.
Yon politician, famous in debate,

Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, bestrides the state;
Yet, when he deigns his real shape t' assume,
He turns old woman, and bestrides a broom.
Yon patriot, too, who presses on your sight,
And seems, to every gazer, all in white,
If with a bribe his candour you attack,



He bows, turns round, and, whip-the man's a black! 40 Yon critic, too-but whither do I run?

If I proceed, our bard will be undone !

Well, then, a truce, since she requests it too:

Do you spare her, and I'll for once spare you.


[Written about 1769. It was first published from his family papers by Major-Gen. Sir Henry Bunbury, Bart., through Prior's edition of Goldsmith's Works, 1837.-ED.]

"This is a poem! This is a copy of verses!'

YOUR mandate I got,

You may all go to pot;

'Sir Joshua Reynolds' physician. He became Sir George Baker.ED.

Had your senses been right,
You'd have sent before night;
As I hope to be saved,
I put off being shaved;
For I could not make bold,
While the matter was cold,
To meddle in suds,

Or to put on my duds;

So tell Horneck1 and Nesbitt,
And Baker and his bit,
And Kauffman 2 beside,
And the Jessamy bride,3
With the rest of the crew,
The Reynoldses two,
Little Comedy's' face,

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And the Captain in lace."

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1 Mrs. Horneck, the widow of Capt. Kane Horneck.-ED.


2. Angelica Kauffman, the at that time popular artist, whose romantic story Miss Thackeray has told in her Miss Angel.'-ED.

3 Miss Mary Horneck, afterwards Mrs. Gwyn. She lived to 1840, and gave some reminiscences of Goldsmith to Hazlitt, which he published in his Conversations of Northcote.' See also p. 108.-ED.

+ Miss Catharine Horneck, afterwards (1771) the wife of Henry Bunbury, the caricaturist, who sometimes drew, and wrote, under the name of Geoffrey Gambado. See also p. 108.-ED.


Ensign, afterwards General Horneck: see v. i., p. 33.-En..

Tell each other to rue
Your Devonshire crew,
For sending so late
To one of my state.
But 'tis Reynolds's way
From wisdom to stray,
And Angelica's whim

To be frolick like him,




But alas! your good worships, how could they be wiser, When both have been spoiled in to-day's Advertiser ?1 OLIVER GOLDSMITH.


[Zobeide' was a tragedy founded upon Voltaire's 'Les Scythes,' and written by Joseph Cradock, a gentleman of fortune, and friend of Goldsmith. The play was produced at Covent Garden Theatre, Dec. 11, 1771, and the prologue was spoken by the comedian Quick in the character of a sailor. Our text is from the edition of 1772, which it will be seen varies considerably from the earlier editions.—ED.]

IN these bold times, when Learning's sons explore
The distant climate and the savage shore;
When wise astronomers to India steer,
And quit for Venus many a brighter here;
While botanists,2 all cold to smiles and dimpling,
Forsake the fair, and patiently-go simpling;
When every bosom swells with wond'rous scenes,
Priests, cannibals, and hoity-toity queens,*
Our bard into the general spirit enters,


And fits his little frigate for adventures.


With Scythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden,

He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading

In allusion to some verse in the Public Advertiser' on Angelica Kauffman's portrait of Sir Joshua Reynolds.-ED.

2 At this time Captain Cook had just returned from his first voyage round the world, a voyage projected by the Royal Society and Mr. (afterwards Sir Joseph) Banks for scientific purposes. Cook and Mr. Charles Green were the astronomers of the expedition, and were charged with the observation of the transit of Venus, &c., while Mr. Banks and Dr. Solander, of the British Museum, were the botanists.-ED.

3 These two lines are not in the earliest editions.-ED.

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