The poetical works of Oliver Goldsmith. Ed. by B. CorneyLongmans, Green, and Company, 1868 - 231 pages |
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Page 215
... 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 ? From The ...
... 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 ? From The ...
Page 216
Oliver Goldsmith Bolton Corney. The epilogue . MISS CATLEY . MRS . BULKLEY . The epilogue ? MISS CATLEY . Yes , the epilogue , my dear . MRS . BULKLEY , Sure you mistake , ma'am . The epilogue ? I bring it , Excuse me , ma'am . MISS ...
Oliver Goldsmith Bolton Corney. The epilogue . MISS CATLEY . MRS . BULKLEY . The epilogue ? MISS CATLEY . Yes , the epilogue , my dear . MRS . BULKLEY , Sure you mistake , ma'am . The epilogue ? I bring it , Excuse me , ma'am . MISS ...
Page 217
... MRS . BULKLEY . Why , sure the girl's beside herself ! singing ? an epilogue of A hopeful end indeed to such a bless'd beginning . Besides , a singer in a comic set ! Excuse me ... MISS CATLEY . What if we leave it to the 217 EPILOGUES .
... MRS . BULKLEY . Why , sure the girl's beside herself ! singing ? an epilogue of A hopeful end indeed to such a bless'd beginning . Besides , a singer in a comic set ! Excuse me ... MISS CATLEY . What if we leave it to the 217 EPILOGUES .
Page 218
Oliver Goldsmith Bolton Corney. MISS CATLEY . What if we leave it to the house ? MRS . BULKLEY . The house ! -Agreed . MISS CATLEY . MRS . BULKLEY . And she whose party's largest shall proceed . And first , I hope , you'll readily agree ...
Oliver Goldsmith Bolton Corney. MISS CATLEY . What if we leave it to the house ? MRS . BULKLEY . The house ! -Agreed . MISS CATLEY . MRS . BULKLEY . And she whose party's largest shall proceed . And first , I hope , you'll readily agree ...
Page 219
... MRS . BULKLEY . Let all the old pay homage to your merit : Give me the young , the gay , the men of spirit . Ye travell ... MISS CATLEY . Ay , take your travellers - travellers indeed ! Give me my bonny Scot , that travels from the Tweed ...
... MRS . BULKLEY . Let all the old pay homage to your merit : Give me the young , the gay , the men of spirit . Ye travell ... MISS CATLEY . Ay , take your travellers - travellers indeed ! Give me my bonny Scot , that travels from the Tweed ...
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Common terms and phrases
acted at Covent-garden Æsop afterwards Arthur Murphy augustalis ballad bard beauty bless bless'd bliss Boswell breast BULKLEY Bunbury Burke Chaldean charms Chorus comedy Covent-garden theatre Cradock Creswick cried David Garrick dear deserted village died edition elegy Epilogue written epitaph eyes fame flies Garrick good-natur'd Green haunch of venison heart Heaven hermit honour Horsley Johnson Julius Cæsar Line London lord Memoirs mind mirth MISS CATLEY never Newbery o'er OLIVER GOLDSMITH pain pass'd Percy pity pleas'd pleasure poem poet poetical praise pride printed prologue PROPHET rage raptures Recitative reverend rise round scene sir Joshua Reynolds skies skill'd smiling song sorrow soul spread stoops to conquer sweet Sweet Auburn Tayler thee thine Thomas Parnell Thompson thou Threnodia augustalis Toroddle translated turn Twas verses vex'd vicar of Wakefield volumes wealth weep Williams Woodfall wretch yonder ΙΟ
Popular passages
Page 60 - Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, And rich men flock from all the world around. Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name That leaves our useful products still the same. Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds...
Page 47 - A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintain'd its man; For him light labour spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life required, but gave no more: His best companions, innocence and health; And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
Page 186 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much ; Who, born for the Universe, narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Page 43 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please — How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
Page 62 - The mournful peasant leads his humble band ; And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country blooms — a garden, and a grave. Where then, ah ! where shall poverty reside, To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride ? If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd, He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, And e'en the bare-worn common is denied.
Page 54 - And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd, The reverend champion stood. At his control, Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
Page 61 - Has robb'd the neighb'ring fields of half their growth; His seat, where solitary sports are seen, Indignant spurns the cottage from the green; Around the world each needful product flies, For all the luxuries the world supplies: While thus the land, adorn'd for pleasure, all In barren splendour feebly waits the fall.
Page 58 - The varnished clock that clicked behind the door: The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules...
Page 51 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden -flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Page 56 - A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew : Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face ; Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; Full well the busy whisper circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.