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But make the worst, the monarch did no' more,
Than all the Ptolemys had done before:
When inceft is for interest of a nation,
'Tis made no fin by holy dispensation.
Some lines have been maintain’d by this alone,
Which by their common ugliness are known.

But paffing this as from our tale apart,
Dame Partlet was the fovereign of his heart:
Ardent in love, outrageous in his play,
He feather'd her a hundred times a day :
And she that was not only passing fair,
But was withal discreet, and debonair,
Resolv'd the passive doctrine to fulfil,
Tho' loth; and let him work his wicked will:
At board and bed was affable and kind,
According as their marriage-vow did bind,
And as the church's precept had injoin'd.
Ev'n fince she was a fennight old, they say,
Was chaste and humble to her dying day,
Nor chick nor hen was known to disobey.

By this her husband's heart she did obtain ;
What cannot beauty, join'd with virtue, gain!
She was his only joy, and he her pride,
She, when he walk’d, went pecking by his side ;
If spurning up the ground, he sprung a corn,
The tribute in his bill to her was born.
But oh! what joy it was to hear him fing
In summer, when the day began to spring,
Stretching his neck, and warbling in his throat,
Solus cæm fola, then was all his note.
For in the days of yore, the birds of parts
Were bred to speak, and sing, and learn the lib'ral arts.

It happ'd that perching on the parlour-beam
Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream,
Just at the dawn; and figh’d, and graan'd so fast,
As ev'ry breath he drew would be his last.
Vol. III.


Dame Partlet, ever neareft to his fide,
Heard all his piteous moan, and how he cry'd
For help from Gods and men : and sore aghait
She peck'd and pulld, and waken’d him at last.
Dear heart, said she, for love of Heav'n declare
Your pain, and make me partner in your care.
You groan, Sir, ever since the morning light,
As something had disturb'd your noble spright.

And madam, well I might, said Chanticleer,
Never was fhroveride-cock in such a fear.
Ev'n still I run all over in a sweat,
My princely senses not recover'd yet.
For such a dream I had of dire portent,
That much I fear my body will be shent:
It bodes I shall have wars and woful strife,
Or in a loathsome dungeon end my life.
Know, dame, I dreamt within my troubled breast,
That in our yard I saw a murd'rous beast,
That on my body would have made arreft.
With waking eyes I ne'er beheld his fellow;
His colour was betwixt a red and yellow :
Tipp'd was his tail, and both his pricking ears
Were black; and much unlike his other hairs :
The rest in shape a beagle's whelp throughout,
With broader forehead, and a sharper (nout:
Deep in his front were funk his glowing eyes,
That yet methinks I see him with surprize.
Reach out your hand, I drop with clammy sweat,
And lay it to my heart, and feel it beat.
Now fy for shame, quoth she, by Heav'n above,
Thou haft for ever lost thy lady's love ;
No woman can endure a recreant knight,
He must be bold by day, and free by night:
Our sex desires a husband or a friend,
Who can our honour and his own defend;
Wise, hardy, secret, lib'ral of his purse :
A fool is nauseous, but a coward worse :

No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight.
How dar'lt thou talk of love, and dar't not fight?
How dar'lt thou tell thy dame thou art affear'd?
Hast thou no manly heart, and hast 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 rising fumes of indigested 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 symptoms in the canting ftile)
Of boiling choler, and abounding bile;
This yellow gaul that in your stomach floats,
Engenders all these visionary thoughts.
When choler overflows then dreams are bred
Of flames, and all the family of red;
Red dragons, and red beasts in sleep we view,
For humours are distinguish'd by their hue.
From hence we dream of wars and warlike things,
And wasps and hornets with their double wings.

Choler aduft congeals our blood with fear,
Then black bulls toss us, and black devils tear.
In sanguine airy dreams aloft we bound,
With rheums oppress'd we link in rivers drown'd.

More I could say, but thus conclude my theme,
The dominating humour makes the dream.
Cato was in his time accounted wise,
And he condemns them all for


Take my advice, and when we fly to ground,
With laxatives preserve 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 preferibe for your disease,
And save long bills, and a damn'd doctor's fees.

Two sov’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 sun when in a vernal sign;
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 some untimely end :
And therefore, Sir, as you desire to live,
A day or two before your laxative,
Take just three worms, nor under nor above,
Because the Gods unequal numbers love,
These digestives prepare you for your purge;
Of fametery, centaury, and spurge,
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 son was never born to fear.

Madam, quoth he, grammercy for your care,
But Cato, whom you quoted, you may spare :
'Tis true, a wise and worthy man he seems,
And (as you say) gave no belief to dreams :
But other men of more authority,
And, by th' immortal pow'rs, as wise as he,
Maintain, with sounder sense, that dreams forebode;
For Homer plainly says they come from God.
Nor Cato faid it: but some modern fool
Impos’d in Cato's name on boys at school.


Believe me, madam, morning dreams foreshow
Th’events of things, and future weal or woe:
Some truths are not by reason to be try'd,
But we have sure 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 some far pilgrimage together went.
It happen'd so that, when the sun was down,
They just arriv'd by twilight at a town:
That day had been the baiting of a bull,
'Twas at a feast, and ev'ry inn fo fall,
That no void room in chamber, or on grounds
And but one forry bed was to be found :
And that so 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 last he found a stall where oxen ftood,
And that he rather choose than lie abroad.
'Twas in a farther yard without a door ;
But, for his case, well litter'd was the floor.
His fellow, who the narrow bed had kept,
Was weary, and without a rocker Nept:
Supine he snor'd; but in the dead of night,
He dreamt his friend appear'd before his fight,
Who, with a ghastly look and doleful cry,
Said, help me, brother, or this night I die:
Arise, and help, before all help be vain,
Or in an ox's stall I shall 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.

G 3



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