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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.

* Sir, fend you a small production of the late Dr. Goldsmith, which has never been published, and which might perhaps have been totally loft, had I rot secured it. He intended it as a fong in the character of Miss Hardcastle, in his admirable comedy of "She Stoops to Con"quer," but it was left out, as Mrs. Bulkley, who play'd the part, did not fing. He fung it himself, in private companies very agreeably. The tune is a pretty Irish air, called "The Humours of Balamagairy," to which he told me he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he has fucceeded very happily in these few lines. As I could

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But I will rally and combat the ruiner:

Not a look, not a fmile fhall my paffion discover. She that gives all to the false one pursuing her, Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover.

fing the tune, and was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them, about a year ago, just as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, little ap. prehending that it was a last farewel. I preferve this little relic, in his own hand writing, with an affectionate care. I am, Sir,

Your humble fervant,


P. R 0

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IN thefe bold times, when Learning's fons explore,

The diftant climates, and the favage fhore;
When wife aftronomers to India steer,

And quit for Venus many a brighter here;

While botanists, all cold to fmiles and dimpling,
Forfake the fair, and patiently-go fimpling.
Our bard into the general spirit enters,
And fits his little frigate for adventures.

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With Scythian ftores, and trinkets deeply laden,
He this way fteers his course, in hopes of trading-
Yet ere he lands he 'as order'd me before,

To make an obfervation on the fhore,

Where are we driven? our reckoning 'fure is loft!
This seems a rocky and a dangerous coaft.
Lord, what a fultry climate am I under!

Yon ill-foreboding cloud feems big with thunder:

(Upper gallery.)

There mangroves fpread, and larger than I've feen'em


Here trees of ftately fize-and billing turtles in 'em

Here ill conditioned oranges abound

(Balconies.) (Stage.)

And apples, oitter apples ftrew the ground:

[Tafting them.

The inhabitants are canibals I fear:

I heard a hiffing-there are ferpents here!

O, there the people are best keep my distance; Our Captain (gentle natives) craves affistance;

Our fhip's well ftor'd-in yonder creek we've laid


His honour is no mercenary trader,

This is his firft adventure, lend him aid,

And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.


His goods, he hopes, are prime, and brought from


Equally fit for gallantry and war.

What, no reply to promises fo ample?

-I'd beft ftep back-and order up a fample.

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