The Vicar of Wakefield

By the living jingo, she was all of a muck of sweat.

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?

A kind and gentle heart he had,

To comfort friends and foes;

The naked every day he clad

When he put on his clothes.

We sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance the value of its favors.

To what happy accident is it that we owe so unexpected a visit?

And in that town a dog was found,

As many dogs there be,

Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

I...chose a wife, as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surface, but such qualities as would wear well.

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?

Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long.

I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects too.

No flocks that range the valley free

To slaughter I condemn;

Taught by that Power that pities me,

I learn to pity them:

But from the mountain’s grassy side

A guiltless feast I bring;

A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,

And water from the spring.

They would talk of nothing but high life, and high-lived company, with other fashionable topics, such as pictures, taste, Shakespeare, and the musical glasses.

It seemed to be pretty plain, that they had more of love than matrimony in them.

The premises being thus settled, I proceed to observe that the concatenation of self-existence, proceeding in a reciprocal duplicate ratio, naturally produces a problematical dialogism, which in some measure proves that the essence of spirituality may be referred to the second predicable.

I was ever of the opinion that the honest man who married and brought up a large family, did more service than he who continued single, and only talked of population.

The sigh that rends thy constant heart

Shall break thy Edwin's too.

Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not strength enough to prevent it seldom has justice enough to accuse.

It has been a thousand times observed, and I must observe it once more, that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view are more pleasing than those crowned with fruition.

To what fortuitous occurrence do we not owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives.

Handsome is that handsome does.

A book may be very amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single absurdity.

The dog, to gain some private ends,

Went mad, and bit the man.

That virtue which requires to be ever guarded is scarce worth the sentinel.

Turn, gentle Hermit of the Dale,

And guide my lonely way

To where yon taper cheers the vale

With hospitable ray.

Let us draw upon Content for the deficiencies of fortune.

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.

The man recovered of the bite,

The dog it was that died.