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Ан H me! when shall I marry me?
Sir, 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 Hardqaltle, 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 sung it himself, in private companies yery 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 Þas succeeded very happily in these few lines. As I could
But I will rally and combat the ruiner :
- fing the tune; and was fond of them, he was so goud as to give me them, about the year ago, just as I was leaving London, and bidding him adieu for that season, little apprehending that it was a last farewel. I preserve this little relic, in his own hand writing, with an affectionate care. I am, Sir,
Z O B E ID E: A TRAGEDY.
In these bold times, when Learning's fons explore,
With Scythian stores, and trinkets deeply laden,
(Upper gallery.) There mangroves spread, and larger than I've seen 'em
(Pit.) Here trees of stately fize--and billing turtles in 'em
( Balconies.) Here ill-conditioned oranges abound (Stage.) And apples, bitter apples strew the ground:
rTaping them.) The inhabitants are canibals I fear : I heard a hifting—there are serpents here ! 0, there the people are-best keep my distance; Our Captain (gentle natives) craves affiftance; Our ship's well stor'd-in yonder creek we've laid her, His honour is no mercenary trader. This is his first adventure, lend him aid, And we may chance to drive a thriving trade.