The Vicar of Wakefield: A Tale (Google eBook)

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James Cochrane and Company, 1832 - Abduction - 411 pages
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Review: The Vicar of Wakefield

User Review  - Tony - Goodreads

THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. (1766). Oliver Goldsmith. ***. When I first read this novel forty-some years ago, I wasn't quite sure what I had just read. On second reading, I'm still confused. The novel ... Read full review

Review: The Vicar of Wakefield

User Review  - Edoardo Albert - Goodreads

Fascinating. Quite fascinating. I'm not sure what Oliver Goldsmith would have made of Mr Spock, but the eponymour Vicar of Wakefield could almost be an 18th-century take on the Vulcan's position ... Read full review

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Page vi - I received one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was...
Page 173 - What man dare, I dare: Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger; Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble...
Page 31 - A wretch forlorn,' she cried ; 'Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude Where heaven and you reside. ' But let a maid thy pity share, Whom love has taught to stray ; Who seeks for rest, but finds despair Companion of her way. ' My father...
Page 31 - And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep?
Page 32 - Till, quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride; And sought a solitude forlorn In secret, where he died. But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay.
Page 116 - 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 ! 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.
Page 96 - Whenever I approached a peasant's house towards night-fall, I played one of my most merry tunes, and that procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day.
Page 29 - Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, I give it with good will.
Page 47 - I perceived his sisters mighty busy in fitting out Moses for the fair ; trimming his hair, brushing his buckles, and cocking his hat with pins. The business of the toilet being over, we had at last the satisfaction of seeing him mounted upon the colt, with a deal box before him to bring home groceries in. He had on a coat made of that cloth they call thunder and lightning, which, though grown too short, was much too good to be thrown away.
Page iii - Man alone seems to be the only creature who has arrived to the natural size in this poor soil. Every part of the country presents the same dismal landscape. No grove, nor brook lend their music to cheer the stranger or make the inhabitants forget their poverty.

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