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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;
I fret in my gizzard—yet, cautious and sly,
I wish all my friends may be bolder than I:
Yet still they sit snug ; not a creature will aim,
By losing their money, to venture at fame.
'T is in vain that at niggardly caution I scold,
'T is in vain that I flatter the brave and the bold;
All play their own way, and they think me an ass:
“What does Mrs. Bunbury?” “I, sir? I pass.”
• Pray what does Miss Horneck Take courage, come, do"
“Who, I ? Let me see, sir; why I must pass too.”
Mr. Bunbury frets, and I fret like the devil,
To see them so cowardly, lucky, and civil;
Yet still I sit snug, and continue to sigh on,
Till made by my losses as bold as a lion,
I venture at all; while my avarice regards
The whole pool as my own. “Come, give me five cards.'
“Well done " cry the ladies; “ah! doctor, that's good—
The pool's very rich. Ah! the doctor is loo'd.” 26

Thus foil'd in my courage, on all sides perplex'd,
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 7"
“I advise,” cries the lady, “to try it, I own —
Ah! the doctor is loo'd : come, doctor, put down.”
Thus playing and playing I still grow more eager,
And so bold and so bold, I’m at last a bold beggar.
Now, ladies, I ask—if law-matters you're skill'd in —
Whether crimes such as yours should not come before
For, giving advice that is not worth a straw
May well be call'd picking of pockets in law—
And picking of pockets, with which I now charge ye,
Is, by quinto Elizabeth. death without clergy.
What justice when both to the Old Bailey brought;
By the gods ! I'll enjoy it though 'tis but in thought.
Both are plac'd at the bar with all proper decorum,
With bunches of fennel and nosegays before 'em;
Both cover their faces with mobs and all that,

But the judge bids them, angrily, take off their hat. 46

When uncover'd, a buzz of inquiry runs round:
“Pray what are their crimes?” “They’ve been pilfering
“But, pray, who have they pilfer'd " “A doctor, I hear.”
“What, yon solemn-fac'd, odd-looking man that stands
near !”
“The same.” “What a pity! How does it surprise one:
Two handsomer culprits I never set eyes on "
Then their friends all come round me, with cringing and
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 dy'd 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.” 62

“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 7”
This moves: so, at last, I agree to relent

For ten pounds in hand and ten pounds to be spent. 66

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.

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Ah, 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.

* From The London Magazine for June, 1774. It was transmitted to the editor with the following note:


“I send you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith, which has never been published, and which might perhaps have been totally lost, had I not secured it. He intended it as a song in the character of Miss Hardcastle, in his admirable comedy, She stoops to conquer; but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulkley, who played the part, did not sing. He sung it himself, in private companies, very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called The humors of Ballamaguiry, to which he told me he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he has succeeded happily in these few lines. As I could sing the tune, and was fond of

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