THE TWINS. WIT IN JAIL. THE Tower confines the great, Cervantes revels and sports, Although he writ in a jail. RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. THE DUENNA. LOVE FOR LOVE. I NE'ER could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; Is her hand so soft and pure? GIVE CONDITIONS OF BEAUTY. VIVE Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast, And her eyes may be e'en colour but green; THE SUNSHINE OF AGE. OH, the days when I was young, When I laughed in fortune's spite; Little recked I of thy frown; And the rest a bumper drown. Truth, they say, lies in a well, But still honest truth I found In the bottom of each flask, True, at length my vigour's flown, THIS DRINKING GLEE. HIS bottle's the sun of our table, You'll soon grow bright THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL HE LET THE TOAST PASS. ERE'S to the maiden of bashful fifteen; Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean, Drink to the lass, I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize, Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow; For let 'em be clumsy, or let 'em be slim, Let the toast pass, &c.* * These gay and flowing verses, perhaps the most popular of their class in the language, are evidently modelled on the following song in Suckling's play of the Goblins: 'A health to the nut-brown lass She that has good eyes, &c. Let it pass-let it pass. As much to the lively grey, 'Tis as good in the night as the day, She that hath good eyes, &c. Drink away-drink away. I pledge, I pledge, what ho! some wine, The colours are divine; But oh! the black, the black, Give me as much again, and let 't be sack; She that hath good eyes,' &c. This song was appropriated by S. Sheppard, in a comedy called the Committee-man curried, 1647. Sheppard was a notorious plagiarist, and had the audacity to publish the lines without any acknowledgment of the source from whence he stole them. INDEX ΤΟ THE FIRST LINES OF THE SONGS. PAGB And to begin A thing very fit A CURSE upon thee, for a slave! Adieu; farewell, earth's bliss Agincourt, Agincourt! know ye not Agincourt? Ah fading joy! how quickly art thou passed! All a green willow, willow All that glisters is not gold. All ye woods and trees, and bowers And will he not come again?. A nymph and a swain to Apollo once prayed Arm, arm, arm, arm! the scouts are all come in Art thou god to shepherd turned Art thou gone in haste? Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? At Venus' entreaty for Cupid her son Autumn hath all the summer's fruitful treasure 162 69 198 249 240 242 25 86 135 223 23 103 254 138 93 185 180 16 61 69 Brave Don, cast your eyes on our gipsy fashions 175 Broom, Broom on hill 46 Broom, broom, the bonny broom! 139 |