Book XX.

_Instead of_ ll. 54–5:

“To take my way, break in on no one’s plan, Filling a pause—‘the poor disorder’d man!’” (O.M.)

=POSTHUMOUS TALES. Variants in Crabbe MSS. in the possession of the Cambridge University Press.=

=Variants in Crabbe MSS. in the possession of Professor Edward Dowden.= These are distinguished as ‘D.’

=‘Original MS.’ readings given as footnotes in Life and Poems (1834).= These are distinguished as ‘O.M.’

Tale I.

_The Tale opens:_

There was a Youth, and we would call him poor, Save that he wished not for one Shilling more— No, not one Shilling; but th’ ambitious Boy Wished for more Wealth than Mortals can enjoy: Unbounded Treasure, such as Fancy sees In morning Dreams and musing Reveries; Such as in Eastern Tales Magicians hide For their Unhappy Favourites to provide. Such Tales our Boy from Infancy had read With Faith enough to turn a stronger head.

_variant of_ ll. 73–4:

His Father’s Club supplied a Matchless Store Of mental Wealth that Minds like his explore. He did as Misers yet as Spendthrifts do: Long to possess, and to Enjoy them too.

_variant of_ ll. 98–104:

Yet would his Mind descend to humble food: He had a favourite Friend in Robin Hood; Knew Philip Quarle; in Crusoe’s Isle had strayed; } Nocturnal Visits had to Witches paid, } And gone through haunted Halls, delighted and afraid }

_after_ l. 104:

Nor fail’d Arabian Tales his mind to please, Peruvian, Persian, Turkish, and Chinese; And his chief Reading both in Prose and Rhyme He found amusing and he thought sublime. And better these, I can but think, than some Which now are found in Miss and Master’s room. There lie the Moral Story—every age From six years upwards has th’ appropriate page— And Tales to win Attention, till the Mind Is train’d for Novels of superior Kind. The Heart is led on fancied Views to dote, To live in Error and to live by rote. But say that Love and all his naughty deeds Are not presented to the Child that reads— Still there’s Deception: Charles and Harry here Are not such boys as in the World appear: They are too good, too bad, too weak, too wise; Children at once admire them or despise; And, thus instructed, they’re prepared to find Their Heroes or their Villains in Mankind, Such Baby Wisdom in the Nursery thrives And does small Service in their after lives.

His Father kept an humble School, and Men Professing Law employed his ready Pen. He measured Land, and his poor Boy with Pain Drew o’er the stubbled Glebe a length of Chain. He many an hungry day his Fancy fed, And not till these his fairy Visions fled, That so much Honour, Wealth and Glory gave, Felt he for humble Food his fainting Nature crave.

_instead of_ ll. 183–6:

Mirrors of mighty Size and Pictures Rare, Statues and Busts and Tap’stried Walls were there; There Art and Nature were, ’twas said, at Strife; Views looked like Pictures, Figures looked as Life; And Men disputed where the Charms abide Most worthy Praise; but no man could decide.

_after_ l. 387:

“You read your Bible?” He assenting smil’d And grew in Favour—an improving Child.

_after_ l. 668:

Figures that Fancy or the Painter drew, Profane and sacred, mingled in his View.

_variant of_ ll. 671–682:

The Prophet sitting in the Lions’ Den, The Mountain Loadstone, and the marble Men— Whatever yet to dreaming Man appear’d, And all that Fancy ever form’d or fear’d, And all that Reading could supply, and all The Wonders he had view’d at Silford Hall.

_after_ l. 699:

At length our Traveller found, tho’ hard to find, His Home, and boasted how he fared and dined. Six Days the Lad enjoyed the Pleasures past, And slowly settled to his Work at last. His Tasks were heavy, and his Food was mean, But O! the Glories he had lately seen! Like a wild Dream upon his Mind they dwelt, And still he prayed to feel what he had felt: How blest, supremely blest, the favoured Race Who lived and feasted in that glorious place. Where all were rich and splendid, fine and gay; } They had no Wants to fear, no Cost to pay, } But all day long were pleased and feasted every day. } But what, he thought with fresh Surprise, are they Whom even these with all their Pride obey; Whoso greater Pleasures to themselves are known, And who can call what they behold their own? He had no Words such pleasures to express; ’Twas not enough to call it Happiness.

_the Tale closes_:

Dream on, dear Boy! let pass a few brief years, Replete with troubles, comforts, hopes, and fears, Bold expectations, efforts wild and strong, And thou shalt find thy fond conjectures wrong. Imagination rules thee: thine are dreams, And every thing to thee is what it seems: Thou seest the surfaces of things, that pass Before thee, colour’d by thy fancy’s glass. The fact below is hidden! What is true In that fair mansion comes not in thy view; And thou would’st feel a new and strange surprise, Should all within upon thy mind arise. Thou think’st the lords of all these glorious things Are blest supremely! so they are—like kings! Envy them not their lofty state, my boy; They but possess the things that you enjoy. “Nay, but they’re lords of all you see around— Ring but a bell, and men obey the sound; Make but a motion, with the hand or eye, And their attendants at the signal fly.” True, my fair lad! but this is contract all, For James is paid to heed his Honour’s call. Let wages cease, and lay the livery by, And James will heed no more than you or I. Service has lawful bound, and that beyond Is no obedience—’tis not in the bond. Footman, or groom, or butler, still he knows, So does his lord, the duty that he owes. Labourers, you say, are grieved with daily toil— True—but the sweater goes not with the soil; He can change places, change his way of life, Take new employments—nay, can take a wife; If he offend, he knows the law’s decree, Nor can his judge in his accuser see; And, more than all the rest—or young or old, Useful or useless, he cannot be sold: Sorrow and want may in his cot be found, But not a Slave can live on British ground. Nor have the lords of all this wealth you see, Their perfect freedom; few are truly free; Who rank the highest find the check of fate, And kings themselves are subject to their state. Riches, and all that we desire to gain, } Bind their possessors in a golden chain— } ’Tis kept in peril, and ’tis lost with pain. } And thou too, Boy! wilt pass unheeding by The scenes that now delight thine eager eye. Dream on awhile! and there shall come a strange, And, couldst thou see it, an amazing change. Thou who wert late so happy, and so proud, To be a seat with liveried men allow’d, And would not, dared not, in thy very shame, The titles of their noble masters name— Titles that, scarcely known, upon thy tongue With tremulous and erring accent hung— Now, when accustomed to the splendid Place And known to all of that illustrious Race; His Senses all, and most of all his Sight, Indulged with all that can a Sense delight; His partial Friends, to humble Merits kind, And to his Failings heedless if not blind; Bound to no Duty but a wish to please, And living like a Beggar at his ease— Now do these Scenes delight him, doth he gaze On objects that enchant him and amaze In mute Surprise? oh, no! the Time is past; Raptures and Wonders are not formed to last. Pensive, alone, he walks the Rooms around And seeks for Pleasure; but it is not found. All he can see he many times has seen, And round and round the Maze of Pleasure been. The Pictures, now familiar to the Eye, He owns their beauty, but he passes by; These stately Rooms—that Park so fenced about, Where he was free, now shut his Freedom out, And keeps, he feels—yet fears it as a Sin, And he ungrateful—Lassitude within. Himself discerning, he has learned to trace The Signs of Languor in the loveliest face. The great, the wealthy, who cannot enjoy What Time brings forth, would Time himself destroy; But that a Lad from life laborious freed Should sigh for Action, this is strange indeed; And yet no Labours in the years gone by Cost him the feeling witnessed in that Sigh. Lo! now they meet and greeting seem to say, “How dealt you, Friends, with Father Time to-day?” When each his warfare has with Time confest, Then all acknowledge they are yet opprest. Our Youth has wandered in his Way and sees The Village tribe, as he conceives, at ease; All seeming well their Lot in Life to bear, Because they know not his peculiar Care. The very Beggar moves, as if he knew That he was free his Duties to pursue; Men, Women, Children, all appear’d to say, “I know the Part that I must take to-day.” All this our Youth beheld, and, with a sigh Reflected, “Not a care in Life have I.” Then why not seek it? Ask the man who dines Daily on costly food and generous Wines, Who feels no Pain, who no Complaint can make, But only feels he can no Pleasure take— And he will answer, that ’tis Fortune’s Will; He may be weary, but he must be still. Oh! had they told thee, when thou sat’st with pride, And grateful joy, at Madam Johnson’s side, And heard the lisping Flora, blue-eyed maid, Bid thee be neither bashful nor afraid, When Mrs. Jane thy burning blush had raised, Because thy modesty and sense she praised— Could’st thou have seen that in that place a room Should be thine own, thy house, thy hall, thy home; With leave to wander as thou would’st, to read Just as thy fancy was disposed to feed, To live with those who were so far above Thy reach, it seem’d to thee a crime to love, Or even admire, them!—Little didst thou know How near approach the lofty and the low! In all we dare, and all we dare not name, How much the great and little are the same! Well, thou hast tried it—thou hast closely seen What greatness has without it, and within; Where now the joyful expectation?—fled! The strong anticipating spirit?—dead!

Tale III.

_Variant of title_:

THE RAKE AND COQUETTE.

_variant of_ ll. 149–50:

“Have you not heard—for though I do not mean To start an ill opinion of your Queen—

_variant of_ ll. 220–4:

But these pass off and oh! what tempests shake The moral view, what dire change they make! Temper not hidden, vice no more supprest— What stores of Discord swell in either breast.

_the Tale concludes_:

The Authors both, both Victims [of] Deceit, Each feels the Craft that Each was doom’d to meet— Time past in Folly or in Mischief spent, Time present to regret and Suffering lent; While feeble Hopes in either Bosom reign, } That Death in time to come would snap their Chain } And free from Thraldom one, and one release from Pain. }

Tale V.

l. 1. Withers.

_after_ l. 44:

But Flesh and Blood are only white and red, And brown or auburn hairs adorn the head, And the dear Creatures are but large and small— The gay, the grave, the dwarfish or the tall.

l. 63. Vickars.

_after_ l. 121:

“But, if I must more certain Verdict give, My Friend and Neighbour, I will bid thee live; For Friends one would not in such times forgo, And ’tis Revenge to sacrifice a Foe.

l. 172. Vickars.

_after_ l. 291:

“We know of Ladies who refuse to sip The rosy Wine, nor wet the courted Lip, Yet drink at last; and Lovers, tho’ disgraced, At length may relish on the varying Taste.

_variant of_ ll. 449 _to end_:

But Fate more grievous than her fears could draw, Or his Revenge forepurposed or foresaw, Was theirs: the Carriage was with speed borne on, And had in safety thro’ the by-way gone, Avoiding face of Man; and now [it] sped To the wild Heath that to the Ocean led. Their Minds, ev’n his who drove them with such speed, Were mov’d and troubled by the lawless Deed, And the Way plain, for so it seem’d; their Haste Was doubly urgent o’er the level Waste. None saw beside them, half o’ergrown, a Cave That sometimes Shelter to the Shepherd gave— To them, alarm—alarming Fate to one. The Driver saw it, but he could not shun; His Cry awaked the Terrors, but too late; It just preceded the unhappy fate. Villars escaped; the youth with heavy Groan Proclaimed abroad unheard the fractured bone. But poor Calista fell upon the Rock, The Cave’s foundation, nor survived the Shock. The dying Look, that Villars thought exprest Hope and Contrition, Fancy might suggest; But, while he stood in Horror at the Sight, Those brilliant Eyes were set in endless night. A Fate like this, you may conceive, to paint Language and Colours are too weak and faint: The Lad in Agony with Grief and pain, The hurried Man too wretched to complain; But o’er the Body of the dead, her Guilt Forgotten, and her blood by Vengeance spilt, The very Beasts stood trembling, and the day In cloudy Stillness slowly past away. A Gipsy [Horde]—what time could intervene None knows, for Darkness then had veil’d the Scene— Led by the cry of pain, the idle Crew Approach, and pity touch’d them at the View. What they could do and what the Law decreed I need not tell—what further can we need? But from the Sense of Guilt or [Thought] of Grief Nor Law nor Truth can yield the [Soul] Relief. The man is old, and feeble lives retired; Gives much, takes little—little has transpired Of his Employments, Studies or Intent; Thankful, ’tis said, when every Day is spent. A Priest is with him; he has built his Tomb, And walks and muses by the purpos’d home— The Tomb of him who thought with too much Zeal Of Joy on Earth; whose Curse it was to feel And love intensely—may his Spirit know The Joys this World could not on him bestow; And for that world may he depart from this, Where Zeal is Duty and where Love is bliss!

Tale VI.

_Instead of_ ll. 1–4:

I’m now of Age and, if I be in fact Heir to a Fortune, it is mine to act. Alas! I am no Heir, with Grief I speak Mine is the Fortune that is yet to seek. (D.)

l. 5 _for_ And _read_ Come. (D.)

_after_ l. 6:

Yet, ere I venture on the bold design, And one by fate, not Inclination, mine, In a rough World ‘mid Friends and foes to dwell, Let me to mine own Neighbours bid farewell! (D.)

_after_ l. 84:

But feebly gives the Time; the very Shore, Methinks, resounds not as it did before; The Market dwindles, and each humble Stall Confounds my Sight—there’s Littleness in all. Yet is the Shore the same, the same the Sea, And every Change I mourn is Change in me. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 97–100:

Would I could one, a single, friend behold Who will to me the hidden facts unfold, One who will kindly to the Stranger show What much he wishes and yet fears to know! (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 105–6:

For who looks backward to the Season fled, The Man departed is the Mortal dead. (D.)

_instead of_ l. 115–6:

My hungry Mind may by Attention fill, And like the Ghost glide softly where I will. (D.)

l. 146: To solve my Doubts: how affable and kind! (D.)

l. 148: To all my Questions, and not few have I. (D.)

_after_ l. 152:

Here, as along the sandy Shore we pace, Shall I hear Tidings of the young and old Of whom I took my leave—my Friend behold! (D.)

Tale VII.

_instead of_ ll. 1–4:

Farewell, my Friend, the Brother of my Heart; With whom ’tis new, ’tis difficult, to part; Whom I from very Infancy approved, And never asked the Question why I loved! (D.)

l. 10. _for_ mourner _read_ Weeper. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 11–5:

My faults forgiving, sharing in my Joy, A frank, sincere, engaging, generous Boy! My Friend in pleasures of the passing Day, Mine in Disputes as transient as they, Each other’s Champion, never sought the Cause. (D.)

l. 13: At School each other’s prompter, and at play.

_instead of_ ll. 21–2:

And made that first Impression on my breast That rested not—perchance will never rest. (D.)

l. 23. _for_ fancy _read_ Passion. (D.)

_instead of_ l. 24:

I heard and shudder’d at th’ expected Wound. (D.)

_after_ l. 24:

And thus we parted, with the same design: He had his Care in View, and I had mine. We wrote not, could not write; nor had we Woes In sentimental Sadness to disclose. Ours were the daily Troubles, such as Men Feel, keenly feel, but give not to the pen— Wounds that in after time may heal indeed, But pain us sorely while they’re fresh and bleed; Cares of the World and of the troubled Day, That in new Troubles die and pass away. But I must cease; or, speaking of my Friend, The Pain and Pleasure would not quickly end. (D.)

Tale VIII.

l. 24. rueful meditation.

_instead of_ ll. 24–32:

Hour after Hour in rueful Dulness sate, Puzzled and teizing every Boy at Hand; But, having all at last in his Command, All that he needed, and of that possessed— Who would, might think and labour for the rest. Knowledge to win was useless when obtained, As much as told him what he lost or gained; If he had envied Newton, it had been But for the Mint of Money he had seen. (D.)

l. 109: The Vermin of the Customs and Excise. (D.)

l. 118: some have failed.

l. 119: And neither fled the Power nor—satisfied. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 126–7:

And to be One in a Concern so Grand } Was a rare Prospect—if it could be planned: } Why, he might build an House, and round it buy him Land! }

l. 129: Might condescend in such Abode to dwell. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 132–3:

For he had heard in former Days the Chair } Was filled with Honour by a worthy Mayor, } Who had sold Cheese and Vinegar—so there! (D.)}

l. 159: Join’d with his Sorrow, Penitence, and Shame. (D.)

l. 163: And courts with patient Care the Gains he spurn’d. (D.)

Tale IX.

_Instead of_ ll. 7–10:

Jane, a sick Mother’s Child who dying knew What, when alone, her widow’d Man would do, And, having power, left Jane enough to live A Life of Ease, which none, she judged, would give. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 29–30:

Her Talents thus improv’d and thus employ’d, Her Cares are Comforts and her Hours enjoyed. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 39–41:

And often said, “What means the idle Boy; Will none his Talents and his Hands employ?” Alas! my Friend, thy Care was all in vain: That Boy had got the Bee within his Brain; But for thy Peace with grateful Heart he pray’d. (D.)

l. 51: For then all childish Fancies take their Flight.

l. 96. _for_ Sat down _read_ Appear’d. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 97–9:

The Thoughts I guess not she appear’d to read, When there came one a Stranger’s Cause to plead— A Stranger she, and enter’d in that Cause.

l. 106: “True I’m his Mistress, am”—— “But what is he?” (D.)

l. 106: but then what is he?

l. 112: The Fiend he served, then prompting his Deceit.

_after_ l. 130:

Reproach and Shame the peaceful Muse offend, And Tales of Vice and Error soon should end. (D.)

l. 148: The Lover sought with all a Lover’s Skill. (D.)

l. 158: Who were as happy as they were before. (D.)

_after_ l. 158:

Yet such his Influence that his Victim found Her Bosom wounded with a hopeless Wound. (D.)

l. 159: Not so his Victim.

l. 167: The open Insult or the secret Pain. (D.)

Tale X.

l. 5: Adieu, thou noble Pile, I kiss the sacred Ground. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 24–5:

So to her Chaplain she the one commends, And to the sick the village doctor sends.

_instead of_ l. 27:

And keeps the antient Credit of the Hall.

_after_ l. 64:

And loves the Part unseen from what is now in sight. (D.)

_after_ l. 66:

Is not the idle Scheme of a projecting Hand. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 80–4:

This is the Spring; then Summer comes in pride, } Pure, silent streams, here hid and there discried, } Feed the unnumbered fry, that there glide; } Then steals th’ Autumnal Prospect o’er the Leaf. (D.)

_instead of_ l. 84:

Then steals th’ Autumnal Prospect o’er the Leaf.

l. 105. _for_ behold _read_ survey. (D.)

l. 106: That Seat so honour’d, honour’d in decay. (D.)

Tale XI.

_After_ l. 10:

Here some for Cinders are in Ovens made, There Iron bars by Stacks of Deal are laid.

_instead of_ ll. 21–2:

There is no Merchant, far or near, supplied With so much Store: no wonder he has Pride! (D.)

_after_ l. 58:

But I must leave this lofty Man of Trade To make my Fortune—his is ready made. (D.)

_variant of_ ll. 66–8:

And the Man waits till One advances more; What time the Lady, gliding through the Crowd, Makes her advance as she proceeds, aloud.

_instead of_ ll. 77–8:

It is our Alms-house: men in years decay’d Are here sustain’d, once flourishing in Trade. (D.)

l. 106: Would fain the Kindness that supports him hide. (D.)

_after_ l. 140:

And, when I Male or female have addrest, I see them count the Buttons on my breast.

Tale XII.

_Instead of_ ll. 9–14:

Office and Wealth, and with disdain he sees His Brother Burgess in pursuit of these. He goes to Church and he is so content, Because his Father and his kindred went; But still some Reasons for Dissent he states, And on this point, at least, prevaricates. (D.)

_variant of_ l. 10:

Of Wealth increasing, till he said “No more.”

_after_ l. 10:

Office he hates, and with Disdain he sees His Brother seeking or possessing these.

_variant of_ ll. 11–4:

He goes to Church, but is not quite content; } He goes indeed, because his Father went; } But he has Bias leaning to Dissent. } Reasons for this and all Dissent be gives, And thus at Variance with himself he lives.

_variant of_ ll. 23–4:

James then retorts, “’Tis better this than place Your Hopes upon his Lordship or his Grace.”

_variant of_ ll. 29–32:

“They call you loyal, and you use your Call To gain a Something by attempting all; And, if this Treasure to your Coffer bring, The Slave no wonder cries, ‘God save the King.’”

_after_ l. 36

“Do change your Name, and let our Father’s live In all the Credit Loyalty will give.”

_after_ l. 66:

Hear then, while I the pleasing fact reveal } And prove that Men, nay Men of Party, feel, } And Love, when nicely moved, Conflicting Tempers heal. }

Tale XIII.

l. 2: Whom, would a man describe he calls her Blue. (D.)

Whom when a Man describes, he calls her Blue.

l. 4: The Men grew shy, and Women grew afraid. (D.)

l. 6: And the same Love for learned Lore profess. (D.)

And all her Love for learned Lore profess.

_after_ l. 13:

Men toil for Learning half their younger Days, Yet fail to give it in their Ladies Praise. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 24–5:

Miranda loves about her Chair to see As many Men as can collected be. (D.)

l. 24. Diana.

l. 27: And passes thus her Mornings and her Nights. (D.)

_after_ l. 33:

For its own Life with other Creeds to shift. (D.)

For its own Life with other Creeds to shift.

_after_ l. 41:

In all political Concerns at Home She tells us what they did in Greece and Rome; Of their Intrigues and Actions takes a View, And knows as well what we ourselves should do. (D.)

l. 69. _for_ Joanna _read_ her. l. 70. Diana.

_instead of_ l. 77:

He should be thought or difficult or dry.

He should be thought or difficult or dry. (D.)

_after_ l. 85:

As Critic she each Author’s Merit weighs And doles them out the due return of Praise; With equal Weight her many Censures fall, She knows the Merit and the Faults of all. Long are the Letters she receives, and fond She seems of Authors who will correspond. These to her humbler friends she proudly shows, And tells what literary Debts she owes; How many send her Works that give her Pain; She will be just! and they, alas! are vain, The foolish Creatures will her Judgment ask, And then they blame her Sentence—such her Task! Though she herself a ready Mistress makes Of every Science that she undertakes, Yet four or five are all she knows at most All she has mustered and can truly boast. (D.)

l. 105. _for_ the envious mass _read_ capricious man.

l. 107. _for_ the world _read_ proud man.

_after_ l. 109:

“But where the learned Lady?” “Who, Sir, who?” } “She, my good Friend, who every Science knew; } The Triflers of her sex and ours pronounced her Blue. (D.)}

l. 120. Diana Tompson.

_after_ l. 129:

And those who once around her Table drew Are now diminished to an humble Few.

_after_ l. 131:

Not that such Guests were by the palate led, Or would have aught except the Spirit fed; Yet, while the food of minds the men pursue, They judge it well to feed the Body too. The Frame’s supporters without that supply, } The Nerves, become unstrung; the Spirits fly, } And e’en the Tongue itself grows weary, faint, and dry; } And, like a noble but neglected Steed, Drops in the Race and falters in his speed. Diana’s Care displeased the selfish Crew, And all forsook her but a generous few. With these was Michael Sprat—let none deride A learned Sadler, or a Sadler’s pride! Him the wise Lady to her Friendship took, } And chose a Man as she would choose a Book— } For the intrinsic Worth, and not the outward Look. } Beside the Lady Michael took his chair, And people talked about the learned Pair; And vulgar Tongues, alas! a numerous Kind, Who cannot feel how Mind is mixed with Mind, Began the subject in such way to treat As if such Lady could be indiscreet; And, that the venom of such tongues might cease, They chose to marry and to live in peace. Now mark their Malice: when the learned Maid Had such a price for Reputation paid, The Guest at once the wedded friends forsook And left the Lady to her Spouse and Book. Still worse, the man ungratefully denied T’ assist the studies of his Friend and Bride; Retracted all that he had said before, And would be saddled with such Tasks no more! And, how they liv’d and lov’d from year to year, Or how they studied, does not yet appear. At length the Sadler died; but yet not now Would Men the Honour of the Past allow. (D.)

_after_ l. 149:

Now had this Lady with a common View Married, and done as other Ladies do; Attended only to the poor Concerns Which any Woman without Genius learns; Govern’d her Household in a decent Way, And taught her Nurslings how to read and pray. Had she, the Mistress of a mighty Mind, Her Pride to this and to her House confined, Known Pig from Veal, consulted with her Cook, And only read, not criticised, a Book— Such is the World, it had the Life approv’d, And ten to one the Husband’s self had lov’d. (D.)

Tale XIV.

_Variant of Title:_

THE WIDOW SOPHIA.

_the Tale opens:_

Some female Minds are with such Strength endued, Man they excell in genuine Fortitude. A Widow now, Sophia once sustained The Toils of War and in a Camp remained. (D.)

_instead of_ l. 8:

By Reasons powerful at such time, to wed.

_instead of_ ll. 36–7:

She is not one at tales of Woe to faint, Or weep at Sorrows dreaming Poets paint. (D.)

_variant of_ ll. 46–7:

“Where now the Lady, with that mental strength And even Temper, does she rest at length? Weds she again, and does her second Choice In all her strength and Energies rejoice? (D.)

l. 54: _for_ yet young was _read_ expiring.

l. 93: Nay, and for his, the Voyage would undertake. (D.)

l. 96: The Rage of Men who could not hold their Prey. (D.)

_instead of_ ll. 114–5:

The Husband died; and, having now the Skill To know a Wife, judicious was his Will. (D.)

_instead of_ l. 169:

And largely mixt with Sorrow and Contempt.

Tale XV.

_Instead of_ l. 21:

Who will Belinda wed? it seems, must Chance decide.

_after_ l. 30:

The Butcher brought it, ’tis the Butcher’s Care; ’Tis cooked below, but how she cannot tell; Above ’tis eaten, and so all is well. (D.)

_after_ l. 33:

For some are born to eat what some are born to earn. (D.)

l. 45: _for_ her critic’s indolence _read_ that springs from Indolence.

_after_ l. 64:

Not yet from Scotland came the yearly set That put all Europe in the Author’s Debt.

_instead of_ ll. 100–1:

She wonders why the Butcher brings his Bill; She wonders why a Tradesman will not trust.

l. 108: _for_ fretted _read_ petted.