'Tis from Nothing young Patriots oft catch at a hint, Thunder out a bold speech, and then get it in print; 'Tis their only misfortune that there is Nothing in't; Which Nobody can deny, Of their purses and gold the French have been free When Ward without art a fam'd doctor is grown, Some Wits to the stage will their Nothing commend ; Which Nobody can deny. Mr. I am just on the verge of becoming an old maid, having entered into my thirty-fifth year, at the expiration of which I look、on myself as an absolute old maid. I might put off the evil day longer by denying my age; but instead of that, I have resigned myself to such a state, and wish the rest of my sex would form their desires according to my Wish; which if you will communicate to the public, you will oblige, Yours, DEBORAH SPINSTER. THE OLD MAID'S WISH. As I grow an old maid, and I find I go down, / Beneath an old oak, near a murmuring brook, But still govern my passion, &c. With the young or the old, with the maid or the wife, Still gay without pride, and jocose without art, With some sense in my tongue, and much truth in May I not have one thought or desire to appear In parties of pleasure 'mong the young and the fair; When grown still more old (as not courted when young), May I ne'er wish to listen to man's flatt'ring tongue; And should some young spark for my fortune make love, With scorn and contempt at his scheme, may I prove I can govern my passion with absolute sway, For my wisdom increases as youth wears away, Without long disease may I gently decay; And when dead, may the men of the better sort say, These three poems, with their introductory addresses, are taken from the Universal Spectator, vol. iii. p. 134. 169. and 256. No. XXVII. How strange, how curious, is the critic's art! ANON. t In this curious age, the following letter cannot fail of being an entertainment to the public. Mr. Having for twenty years last past been very busily employed, I think it now incumbent on me to acquaint the world what I have been doing: for as every private man takes the liberty of examining the public conduct, most certainly the public has an equal right to be informed how every private man disposes of himself. You must then know, that, with infinite labour and assiduity, I have been turning over and examining whole cart-loads of comments, expositions, vocabularies, explanatory notes, and indexes, collating manuscripts, and settling their various readings; and all this with an intent to improve the noble art of criticism, and clear up those obscurities in ancient authors, which either length of time, or the negligence of transcribers, has been the cause of. Whereby I have attained such a perfect knowledge in things of this nature, that I flatter myself no writer can come amiss to me. And having most at heart the honour of my own country, I have employed this skill chiefly to restore such old English authors as are neglected and almost lost for want of being duly understood; and send you, as a specimen, an essay on a little poem, which our forefathers esteemed so highly, that they seldom failed to implant it in the memory of their children so soon as they could speak; though the bard who wrote it, and the age wherein he lived, cannot certainly be found out; but there is good reason to believe it must have been some time between the Conquest and the Reformation. As this piece has never yet been attempted, though it may move the envy of my brother critics, it will, I doubt not, be greatly useful and entertaining to the world; and according to its success, I shall suppress or publish above 100 volumes, which, with inexpressible pains and equal candour, I have compiled for the service of my country. Once I was a bachelor, and lived by myself, And all the victuals that I had I put upon a shelf; |