No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight.
How dar'ft thou talk of love, and dar❜ft not fight ?
How dar'ft thou tell thy dame thou art affear'd?
Haft thou no manly heart, and haft a beard?
If ought from fearful dreams may be divin'd,
They fignify a cock of dunghill kind.
All dreams, as in old Galen I have read,
Are from repletion and complexion bred;
From rifing fumes of indigefted food,
And noxious humours that infect the blood:
And fure, my lord, if I can read aright,
These foolish fancies, you have had to-night,
Are certain fymptoms (in the canting stile)
Of boiling choler, and abounding bile;
This yellow gaul that in your stomach floats,
Engenders all thefe vifionary thoughts.
When choler overflows then dreams are bred
Of flames, and all the family of red;
Red dragons, and red beafts in fleep we view,
For humours are distinguish'd by their hue.
From hence we dream of wars and warlike things,
And wafps and hornets with their double wings.
Choler aduft congeals our blood with fear,
Then black bulls tofs us, and black devils tear.
In fanguine airy dreams aloft we bound,
With rheums oppress'd we sink in rivers drown'd.
More I could fay, but thus conclude my theme,
The dominating humour makes the dream.
Cato was in his time accounted wife,
And he condemns them all for empty lies.
Take my advice, and when we fly to ground,
With laxatives preferve your body found,
And purge the pecant humours that abound.
I should be loth to lay you on a bier ;
And tho' there lives no 'pothecary near,
I dare for once prefcribe for your disease,
And fave long bills, and a damn'd doctor's fees.
Two fov'reign herbs which I by practice know,
And both at hand, (for in our yard they grow ;)
On peril of my soul shall rid you wholly
Of yellow choler, and of melancholy:
You must both purge, and vomit; but obey,
And for the love of heav'n make no delay.
Since hot and dry in your complexion join,
Beware the fun when in a vernal fign;
For when he mounts exalted in the ram,
If then he finds your body in a flame,
Replete with choler, I dare lay a groat,
A tertian ague is at least your lot.
Perhaps a fever (which the Gods forefend)
May bring your youth to fome untimely end:
And therefore, Sir, as you defire to live,
A day or two before your laxative,
Take just three worms, nor under nor above,
Because the Gods unequal numbers love,
Thefe digeftives prepare you for your purge;
Of fametery, centaury, and fpurge,
And of ground-ivy add a leaf, or two,
All which within our yard or garden grow.
Eat these, and be, my lord, of better cheer:
Your father's fon was never born to fear.
Madam, quoth he, grammercy for your care,
But Cato, whom you quoted, you may spare:
'Tis true, a wife and worthy man he seems,
And (as you fay) gave no belief to dreams:
But other men of more authority,
And, by th' immortal pow'rs, as wife as he,
Maintain, with founder fenfe, that dreams forebode;
For Homer plainly says they come from God.
Nor Cato faid it: but fome modern fool
Impos'd in Cato's name on boys at school.
Believe me, madam, morning dreams forefhow
Th' events of things, and future weal or woe:
Some truths are not by reason to be try'd,
But we have fure experience for our guide,
An ancient author, equal with the best,
Relates this tale of dreams among the rest.
Two friends or brothers, with devout intent,
On fome far pilgrimage together went.
It happen'd fo that, when the fun was down,
They just arriv'd by twilight at a town:
That day had been the baiting of a bull,
"Twas at a feaft, and ev'ry inn fo full,
That no void room in chamber, or on grounds
And but one forry bed was to be found:
And that fo little it would hold but one,
Tho' till this hour they never lay alone.
So were they forc'd to part; one ftay'd behind,
His fellow fought what lodging he could find:
At laft he found a ftall where oxen ftood,
And that he rather choose than lie abroad.
'Twas in a farther yard without a door;
But, for his ease, well litter'd was the floor.
His fellow, who the narrow bed had kept,
Was weary, and without a rocker slept :
Supine he fnor'd; but in the dead of night,
He dreamt his friend appear'd before his fight,
Who, with a ghaftly look and doleful cry,
Said, help me, brother, or this night I die:
Arife, and help, before all help be vain,
Or in an ox's ftall I fhall be flain.
Rous'd from his reft he waken'd in a start,
Shiv'ring with horror, and with aking heart;
At length to cure himself by reason tries;
'Tis but a dream, and what are dreams but lies?
So thinking chang'd his fide, and clos'd his eyes.
His dream returns; his friend appears again;
The murd❜rers come, now help, or I am flain:
"Twas but a vifion ftill, and visions are but vain.
He dreamt the third: but now his friend appear'd
Pale, naked, pierc'd with wounds, with blood befmear'd:
Thrice warn'd, awake, faid he; relief is late,
The deed is done; but thou revenge my fate:
Tardy of aid, unfeal thy heavy eyes,
Awake, and with the dawning day arise:
Take to the western gate thy ready way,
For by that paffage they my corps convey:
My corps is in a tumbril laid, among
The filth, and ordure, and inclos'd with dung,
That cart arreft, and raise a common cry;
For facred hunger of my gold, I die:
Then fhew'd his griefly wound: and laft he drew
A piteous figh; and took a long adieu.
The frighted friend arofe by break of day,
And found the stall where late his fellow lay.
Then of his impious hoft inquiring more,
Was anfwer'd that his gueft was gone before:
Mutt'ring he went, faid he, by morning-light,
And much complain'd of his ill rest by night.
This rais'd fufpicion in the pilgrim's mind;
Because all hofts are of an evil kind,
And oft to fhare the spoils with robbers join'd.
His dream confirm'd his thought: with troubled look Straight to the western gate his way he took : There, as his dream foretold, a cart he found, That carry'd compofs forth to dung the ground. This when the pilgrim faw, he stretch'd his throat, And cry'd out murder with a yelling note. My murder'd fellow in this cart lies dead, Vengeance and justice on the villain's head, You, magiftrates, who facred laws difpenfe, On you I call to punish this offence.
The word thus giv'n, within a little space,
The mob came roaring out, and throng'd the place.
All in a trice they caft the cart to ground,
And in the dung the murder'd body found;
Tho' breathless, warm, and reeking from the wound.
Good heav'n, whofe darling attribute we find,
Is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind,
Abhors the cruel; and the deeds of night
By wond'rous ways reveals in open light:
Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time,
But tardy juftice will o'ertake the crime.
And oft a speedier pain the guilty feels:
The hue and cry of heav'n pursues him at the heels,
Fresh from the fact; as in the present case,
The criminals are feiz'd upon the place:
Carter and hoft confronted face to face.
Stiff in denial, as the law appoints,
On engines they diftend their tortur'd joints:
So was confeffion forc'd, th' offence was known,
And public juftice on th' offenders done.
Here may you fee that vifions are to dread;
And in the page that follows this, I read
Of two young merchants, whom the hope of gain
Induc'd in partnership to cross the main:
Waiting till willing winds their fails fupply'd,
Within a trading-town they long abide,
Full fairly fituate on a haven's fide.
One ev❜ning it befel, that looking out,
The wind they long had wifh'd was come about;
Well pleas'd they went to reft; and if the gale
Till morn continu'd, both refolv'd to fail.
But as together in a bed they lay,
The younger had a dream at break of day.
A man he thought ftood frowning at his fide:
Who warn'd him for his fafety to provide,
Nor put to fea, but fafe on fhore abide.
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