{ "item_title" : "She Stoops to Conquer", "item_author" : [" Oliver Goldsmith "], "item_description" : "Enter MR. WOODWARD, dressed in black, and holding a handkerchief to his eyes. Excuse me, sirs, I pray-I can't yet speak- I'm crying now-and have been all the week. 'Tis not alone this mourning suit, good masters: I've that within-for which there are no plastersPray, would you know the reason why I'm crying? The Comic Muse, long sick, is now a-dyingAnd if she goes, my tears will never stop; For as a player, I can't squeeze out one drop: I am undone, that's all-shall lose my bread- I'd rather, but that's nothing-lose my head. When the sweet maid is laid upon the bier, Shuter and I shall be chief mourners here. To her a mawkish drab of spurious breed, Who deals in sentimentals, will succeedPoor Ned and I are dead to all intents; We can as soon speak Greek as sentimentsBoth nervous grown, to keep our spirits up. We now and then take down a hearty cup. What shall we do? If Comedy forsake us, They'll turn us out, and no one else will take us. But why can't I be moral?-Let me try- My heart thus pressing-fixed my face and eye- With a sententious look, that nothing means, (Faces are blocks in sentimental scenes) Thus I begin: All is not gold that glitters, Pleasure seems sweet, but proves a glass of bitters. When Ignorance enters, Folly is at hand: Learning is better far than house and land. Let not your virtue trip; who trips may stumble, And virtue is not virtue, if she tumble.", "item_img_path" : "https://covers3.booksamillion.com/covers/bam/1/50/293/037/1502930374_b.jpg", "price_data" : { "retail_price" : "7.99", "online_price" : "7.99", "our_price" : "7.99", "club_price" : "7.99", "savings_pct" : "0", "savings_amt" : "0.00", "club_savings_pct" : "0", "club_savings_amt" : "0.00", "discount_pct" : "10", "store_price" : "" } }

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