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Man wants but little here below.

Nor wants that little long.*


Chapter 8.

And what is friendship but a name,

A charm that lulls to sleep-
A shade that follows wealth or fame,

And leaves the wretch to weep?


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 !

Chapter 24.


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.

Lines on Edmund Burke.


* The same idea, conveyed in nearly the same words, will be found in Young's Night Thoughts.— Night IV. See Quotations from Young.

Here lies David Garrick-describe me who can,
An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man.
As an actor, confess’d without rival to shine ;
As a wit, if not first, in the very first line ;
Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart,
The man had his failings—a dupe to his art.
Like an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread,
And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red.
On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting;
'Twas only that when he was off, he was acting.

Lines on Garrick.

Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind,
He has not left a wiser or better behind :
His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ;
His manners were gentle, complying, and bland.

Lines on Sir Joshua Reynolds.

A nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay,
A cap by night—a stocking all the day.

Description of an Author's Bed-chamber.

This day beyond its term my fate extends,
For life is ended when our honour ends.

A Prologue spoken by the Poet Laberius. Translated

by Goldsmith from the Latin of Macrobius.

The wretch, condemn’d with life to part,

Still, still on hope relies ;
And every pang that rends the heart,
Bids expectation rise.

The Captivity, an Oratorio. Act 11.

There's no love lost between us.

She Stoops to Conquer. Act iv.

Measures, not men, have always been my mark.

. The Good Natured Man. Act II.



Glory built
On selfish principles, is shame and guilt.

Table Talk.

Lines I, 2.

The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk,
Give him his lass, his fiddle, and his frisk,
Is always happy, reign whoever may,
And laughs the sense of mis’ry far away.

Ibid. Lines 233-236

Ages elaps'd ere Homer's lamp appear'd,
And ages ere the Mantuan swan was heard ;
To carry Nature lengths unknown before,
To give a Milton birth, ask'd ages more.

Ibid. Lines 556-559.


Adapted from Dryden. See Quotations from Dryden. Lines under a Portrait of Milton.

God made the country, and man made the town.

The Task. The Sofa. Line 749.


Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness,*
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,
Might never reach me more !

The Time-Piece.

Lines 1-5.

England, with all thy faults, I love thee still, +
My country! and, while yet a nook is left
Where English minds and manners may be found,
Shall be constrain'd to love thee,

Ibid. Lines 206-209.

There is a pleasure in poetic pains,
Which only poets know.


Lines 285, 286.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,

* A similar aspiration will be found in Lord Byron's “ Childe Harold,” canto 4, stanza 177–

“Oh! that the desert were my dwelling place !"
+ “ Be England what she will,
With all her faults she is my country still.”

Churchill. The Farewell. Lines 27, 28.

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