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Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, Too courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat?
Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, you gave! How did Grub-street re-echo the shouts that you His manners were gentle, complying, and bland :
His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand; raised, While he was be-Roscius'd, and you were be- His pencil our faces, his manners our heart :
Still born to improve us in every part, praised!
To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering, But peace to his spirit wherever it flies,
When they judged without skill, he was still hard To act as an angel and mix with the skies: Those poets, who owe their best fame to his skill, When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregios,
of hearing : Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will,
and stuff, Old Shakspeare receive him with praise and with He shifted his trumpet,* and only took snuff.
love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.!
POSTSCRIPT. Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt pleasant creature,
After the fourth edition of this poem was printed, the pubAnd slander itself must allow him good nature;
lisher received the following Epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord, t He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper,
from a friend of the late Doctor Goldsmith. Yet one fault he had, and that one was a thumper. HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser? Though he merrily lived, he is now a grave man : I answer no, no, for he always was wiser. Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun!
Who relish'd a joke, and rejoiced in a pun; • Mr. Hugh Kelly, author of False Delicacy, Word to the Whose temper was generous, open, sincere ; Wise, Clementina, School for Wives, etc. etc.
A stranger to flatt'ry, a stranger to fear; + Mr. William Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle. Who scatter'd around wit and humour at will;
The following poems by Mr. Garrick, may in some mea. sure account for the severity exercised by Dr. Goldsmith in Whose daily bons mots half a column might fill: respect to that gentleman.
A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free;
A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he.
What pity, alas ! that so liberal a mind
Yet content “if the table he set in a roar;"
Whose talents to fill any station were fit,
Ye newspaper witlings! ye pert scribbling folks! With the love of a wench let his writings be chaste;
Who copied his squibs, and re-ecloed his jokes; Tip his congue with strange matter, his pen with fine taste; Ye tame imitators, ye servile herd, come, That the rake and the poet o'er all may prevail,
Still follow your master, and visit his tomb. Set fire to the head, and set fire to the tail:
To deck it, bring with you festoons of the vine, For the joy of each sex, on the world I'll bestow it, This scholar, rake, Christian, dupe, ganester, and poet ;
And copious libations bestow on his shrine; Though a mixture so odd, he shall merit great fame,
Then strew all around it (you can do no lcos) And among brother mortals—be Goldsmith his name; Cross-readings, ship-neus, and mistakes of the When on earth this strange meteor no more shall appear,
press.ll You, Hermes, shall setch him to make us sport here.
* Sir Joshua Reynolds was so remarkably dear, as to be un. ON DR. GOLDSMITH'S CHARACTERISTICAL der the necessity of using an ear-trumpet in company. COOKERY.
Mr. Caleb Whitefoord, author of many humorous essays.
Mr. W. was so notorious a punster, that Dr. Goldsmith A JEU D'ESPRIT.
used to say it was impossible to keep him company, without Are these the choice dishes the doctor has sent us? being irfected with the itch of punning. Is this the great poet whose works so content us?
$ Mr. H. S. Woodfall, printer of the Public Advertiser. This Goldsmith's fine feast, who has written fine books? I Mr. Whitefoord has frequently indulged the town with hu. Heaven sends us guod meat, but the Devil sends cooks. morous pieces under those titles in the Public Advertiser.
Merry Whitefoord, farewell ! for thy sake I ad. There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen
mit That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said Here trees of stately size—and billing turtles in 'em
[Balconies 'T'nis debt to thy mem'ry I can not refuse, Here ill-condition'd oranges abound "Thou best humour'd man with the worst hu
[Stage. mour'd Muse."
And apples, bitter apples strew the ground:
(Tasting them The inhabitants are cannibals, I fear: SONG:
I heard a hissing—there are serpents here! INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF O, there the people are—best keep my distance:
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. Our captain, gentle natives! craves assistance; An me! when shall I marry me?
Our ship's well stored—in yonder creek we've laid
her, Lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me, He, fond youth, that could carry me,
His honour is no mercenary trader.
This is his first adventure, lend him aid, Offers to love, but means to deceive me.
And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.
Not a look, nor a smile shall my passion discover. far,
I'd best step back-and order up a sample.
SPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWES, IN THE CHARACTER OF THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN, MDCCLXXII.
HARLEQUIN, AT HIS BENEFIT SPOKEN BY MR. QUICK. In these bold times, when Learning's sons explore Hold! Prompter, hold! a word before your nonThe distant climates, and the savage shore; When wise astronomers to India steer,
I'd speak a word or two, to ease my conscience. And quit for Venus many a brighter here; My pride forbids it ever should be said, While botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling, My heels eclipsed the honours of my head; Forsake the fair, and patiently-go simpling;
That I found humour in a piebald vest, Our bard into the general spirit enters,
Or ever thought that jumping was a jest. And fits his little frigate for adventures.
[Takes off his mask With Scythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden, Whence, and what art thou, visionary birth? He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading Nature disowns, and reason scorns thy misth; Yet ere he lands he's order'd me before,
In thy black aspect every passion sleeps, To make an observation on the shore.
The joy that dimples, and the woc that weeps. Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost! How hast thou fill'd the scene with all thy brood This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast.
Of fools pursuing, and of foole pursued ! Lord, what a sultry climate am I under!
Whose ins and outs no ray of sense discloses, Yon ill foreboding cloud seems big with thunder: Whose only plot it is to break our noses ;
(Upper Gallery. Whilst from below the trap-door demons rise,
And from above the dangling deities; SIR– I send you a small production of the late Dr. Gold. And shall I mix in this unhallow'd crew? smith, which has never been published, and which might per. haps have been totally lost, had I not secured it. He intended May rosin'd lightning blast me if I do! it as a song in the character of Miss Hardcastle, in his admi. No-I will act, I'll vindicate the stage : rable comedy of “She Stoops to Conquer," but it was left out, Shakspeare himself shall feel my tragio rage. as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, did not sing. He sung Of! off! vile trappings! a new passion reigns! it himself in private companies very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called “The Humours of Balamagairy," to
The madd’ning monarch revels in my veins. which, he told me, he found it very difficult to adapt words; Oh! for a Richard's voice to catch the theme: but he has succeeded very happily in these few lines. As 1 Give me another horse! bind up my wounds could sing the tune, and was fond of them, he was so good as to soft-twas but a dream. give me them, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London, Ay, 'twas but a dream, for now there's no retreatand bidding him adieu for that season, liule apprehending that I was a last farewell. I preserve this little relic, in his
ing, owo hand-writing, with an affectionate care.
If I cease Harlequin, I cease from eating.
JAMES BOSWELL. Yet something vain, like one phat shall bo namelers,
Once on the margin of a fountain stood, And cavill'd at his image in the flood. “The deuce confound,” he cries, “these drumstick
shanks, They never have my gratitude nor thanks ; They're perfectly disgraceful! strike me dead! But for a head, yes, yes, I have a head. How piercing is that eye, how sleek that brow! My horns !—I'm told horns are the fashion now." Whilst thus he spoke, astonish'd, to his view, Near, and more near, the hounds and huntsmen
drew; Hoicks! hark forward ! came thund'ring from be
hind, He bounds aloft, outstrips the fleeting wind : He quits the woods, and tries the beaten ways; He starts, he pants, he takes the circling maze. At length, his silly head, so prized before, Is taught his former folly. to deplore; Whilst his strong limbs conspire to set him free, And at one bound he saves himself, like me.
[Taking a jump through the stage door.
No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters,
THE LOGICIANS REFUTED,
IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT. LOGICIANS have but ill defined As rational the human mind; Reason, they say, belongs to man, But let them prove it if they can. Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius, By ratiocinations specious, Have strove to prove with great precision, With definition and division, Homo est ratione præditum ; But for my soul I can not credit 'em; And must in spite of them maintain, That man and all his ways are vain; And that this boasted lord of nature Is both a weak and erring creature. That instinct is a surer guide, Than reason, boasting mortals' pride ; And that brute beasts are far before 'em, Deus est anima brutorum. Who ever knew an honest brute At law his neighbour prosecute, Bring action for assault and battery, Or friend beguile with lies and flattery? O'er plains they ramble unconfin'd, No politics disturb their mind; They eat their meals, and take their sport, Nor know who's in or out at court; They never to the levee go, To treat as dearest friend, a foe; They never importune his grace, Nor ever cringe to men in place Nor undertake a dirty job, Nor draw the quill to write for Bob : Fraught with invective they ne'er go To folks at Pater-Noster Row;
ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC. Amidst the clamour of exulting joys,
Which triumph forces from the patriot heart, Grief dares to mingle her soul-piercing voice, And quells the raptures which from pleasure
start. O Wolfe! to thee a streaming flood of woe,
Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear; Quebec in vain shall teach our breast to glow,
Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear. Alive, the foe thy dreadful vigour filed,
And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes: Yet they shall know.thou conquerest, though dead!
Since from thy tomb a thousand heroes rise.
ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH
STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING.
Rather in pity, than in hate,
To save him from Narcissus' fate.
A SONNET WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night. Yet why impair thy bright perfection ?
Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Myra follow'd my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear.
AS PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE-ROYAL, COVENT GARDEN
When I undertook to write a comedy, I confess
WRITTEN BY DR, JOHNSON, I was strongly prepossessed in favour of the poets of the last age, and strove to imitate them. The term, genteel comedy, was then unknown amongst
SPOKEN BY MR. BENSLEY. us, and little more was desired by an audience, than nature and humour, in whatever walks of life Prest by the load of life, the weary mind they were most conspicuous. The author of the Surveys the general toil of human kind; following scenes never imagined that more would be with cool submission joins the lab'ring train, expected of him, and therefore to delineate charac. And social sorrow loses half its pain ; ter has been his principal aim. Those who know Our anxious bard without complaint, may share any thing of composition, are sensible that, in pur- This bustling season's epidemic care, suing humour, it will sometimes lead us into the Like Cæsar's pilot, dignified by fate, recesses of the mean; I was even tempted to look Tost in one common storni with all the great ; for it in the master of a spunging house; but in Distrest alike, the statesman and the wit, deference to the public taste, grown of late, per- When one a borough courts, and one the pit. haps, too delicate, the scene of the bailiffs was re- The busy candidates for power and fame trenched in the representation. In deference also Have hopes and fears, and wishes, just the same ; to the judgment of a few friends, who think in a Disabled both to combat or to fly, particular way, the scene is here restored. The Must bear all taunts, and hear without reply. author submits it to the reader in his closet; and Uncheck’d, on both loud rabbles vent their rage, hopes that too much refinement will not banish hu- As mongrels bay the lion in a cage. mour and character from ours, as it has already Th' offended burgess holds his angry tale, done from the French theatre. Indeed, the French For that blest year when all that vote may rail; comedy is now become so very elevated and senti-Their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss, mental, that it has not only banished humour and Till that glad night, when all that hate may hiss. Moliere from the stage, but it has banished all“ This day the powder'd curls and golden coat," spectators too.
Says swelling Crispin, “ begg'd a cobbler's vote." Upon the whole, the author returns his thanks "This night our wit,” the pert apprentice cries, to the public for the favourable reception which
“Lies at my feet-I hiss him, and he dies." “ 'The Good-Natured Man” has met with ; and to The great, 'tis true, can charm th’ electing tribe ; Mr. Colman in particular, for his kindness to it. The bard may supplicate, but can not bribe. It may not also be improper to assure any, who Yet judged by those, whose voices ne'er were sold, shall hereafter write for the theatre, that merit, or He feels no want of ill-persuading gold ; supposed merit, will ever be a sufficient passport to But confident of praise, if praise be due, his protection.
Trusts, without fear, to merit, and to you.
MR. DUNSTALL. serving happy.
has only served to spoil him. This same philosophy DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
is a good horse in the stable, but an arrant jade on
a journey. For my own part, whenever I hear MEN.
him mention the name on't, I'm always sure he's MR. HONEYWOOD
going to play the fool. CROAKER
Sir William. Don't let us ascribe his faults to LOFTY,
Mr. Woodward. his philosophy, I entreat you. No, Jarvis, his SIR WILLIAM HONEYWOOD Mr. CLARKE.
good-nature arises rather from his fears of offending LEONTINE
the importunate, than his desire of making the deJARVIS BUTLER
Jarvis. What it arises from, I don't know. BAILIFF
MR. R. SMITH.
But to be sure, every body has it, that asks it. DUBARDIEU
Sir William. Ay, or that does not ask it. I POSTBOY
have been now for some time a concealed spectator WOMEN,
of his follies, and find them as boundless as his dis
sipation. Miss RICHLAND
Jarvis. And yet, faith, he has some fine name OLIVIA
or other for them all. He calls his extravagance, MRS. CROAKER
Mrs. Pitt. GARNET
generosity; and his trusting every body, universal
benevolence. It was but last week he went seLANDLADY
curity for a fellow whose face he scarce knew, and Scene-London.
that he called an act of exalted mu-mu-munificence; ay, that was the name he gave it.
Sir William. And upon that I proceed, as my THE GOOD-NATURED MAN. last effort, though with very little hopes to reclaim
him. That very fellow has just absconded, and I ACT І.
have taken up the security. Now, my intention is
to involve him in fictitious distrese, before he has SCENE—AN APARTMENT IN YOUNG HONEYWOOD's plunged himself into real calamity: to arrest him for
that very debt, to clap an officer upon him, and
then let him see which of his friends will come to Enter SIR WILLIAM HONEYWOOD, JARVIS.
his relief. Sir William. - Good Jarvis, make no apologies Jarvis. Well, if I could but any way see him for this honest bluntness. Fidelity, like yours, is thoroughly vexed, every groan of his would be muthe best excuse for every freedom.
sic to me; yet faith, I believe it impossible. I have Jarvis. I can't help being blunt, and being very tried to fret him myself every morning these three angry too, when I hear you talk of disinheriting so years; but instead of being angry, he sits as calmly good, so worthy a young gentleman as your ne- to hear me scold, as he does to his hair-dresser. phew, my master. All the world loves him.
Sir William. We must try him once more, Sir William, Say rather, that he loves all the however, and I'll go this instant to put my scheme world ; that is his fault.
into execution : and I don't despair of succeeding, Jarvis. I am sure there is no part of it more as, by your means, I can have frequent opportunidear to him than you are, though he has not seen ties of being about him without being known. you since he was a child.
What a pity it is, Jarvis, that any man's good-will Sir William. What signifies his affection to to others should produce so much neglect of himme; or how can I be proud of a place in a heart, self, as to require correction! Yet we must touch where every sharper and coxcomb finds an easy his weaknesses with a delicate hand. There are entrance ?
some faults so nearly allied to excellence, that we Jarvis. I grant you that he is rather too good- can scarce weed out the vice without eradicating natured ; that he's too much every man's ınan; that the virtue.
[Exit. he laughs this minute with one, and cries the next Jarvis. Well, go thy ways, Sir William Howith another ; but whose instructions may he thank neywood. It is not without reason, that the world for all this?
allows thee to be the best of men. But here comes Sir William. Not mine, sure? My letters to his hopeful nephew; the strange, good-natured, him during my employment in Italy, taught him foolish, open-hearted—And yet, all his faults are only that philosophy which might prevent, not de. such that one loves him still the better for them. fend his errors.
Enter HONEYWOOD. Jardis. Faith, begging your honour's pardon,
Honeywood. Well, Jarvis, what messages forma I'm sorry they taught him any philosophy at all; it my friends this morning?