But make the worst, the monarch did no more,
Than all the Ptolemys had done before:
When inceft is for intereft of a nation,
"Tis made no fin by holy difpenfation.
Some lines have been maintain'd by this alone,
Which by their common uglinefs 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 the that was not only paffing fair,
But was withal discreet, and debonair,
Refolv'd the paffive 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 fay,
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 fide;
If fpurning up the ground, he fprung a corn,
The tribute in his bill to her was born.
But oh! what joy it was to hear him fing
In fummer, when the day began to spring,
Stretching his neck, and warbling in his throat,
Solus cum fola, then was all his note.
For in the days of yore, the birds of parts
Were bred to speak, and fing, and learn the lib'ral arts.
It happ'd that perching on the parlour-beam
Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream,
Juft at the dawn; and figh'd, and groan'd fo faft,
As ev'ry breath he drew would be his laft.
Dame Partlet, ever nearest to his fide,
Heard all his piteous moan, and how he cry'd
For help from Gods and men: and fore aghait
She peck'd and pull'd, and waken'd him at laft.
Dear heart, faid fhe, for love of Heav'n declare
Your pain, and make me partner in your care.
You groan, Sir, ever fince the morning-light,
As fomething had disturb'd your noble spright.
And madam, well I might, faid Chanticleer,
Never was fhrovetide-cock in fuch a fear.
Ev'n ftill I run all over in a sweat,
My princely fenfes not recover'd yet.
For fuch a dream I had of dire portent,
That much I fear my body will be fhent:
It bodes I fhall have wars and woful ftrife,
Or in a loathfome dungeon end my life.
Know, dame, I dreamt within my troubled breaft,
That in our yard I saw a murd❜rous beast,
That on my body would have made arrest.
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 reft in fhape a beagle's whelp throughout,
With broader forehead, and a sharper snout:
Deep in his front were funk his glowing eyes,
That yet methinks I fee him with furprize.
Reach out your hand, I drop with clammy sweat,
And lay it to my heart, and feel it beat.
Now fy for fhame, quoth fhe, by Heav'n above,
Thou haft for ever loft thy lady's love;
No woman can endure a recreant knight,
He must be bold by day, and free by night:
Our fex defires a husband or a friend,
Who can our honour and his own defend;
Wife, hardy, fecret, lib'ral of his purse:
A fool is naufeous, but a coward worse :
No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight.
How dar'st 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 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 rifing 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 fymptoms (in the canting stile)
Of boiling choler, and abounding bile;
This yellow gaul that in your ftomach 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 fleep we view,
For humours are diftinguish'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 prescribe 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 foul fhall 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 juft three worms, nor under nor above,
Because the Gods unequal numbers love,
These digeftives prepare you for your purge;
Of fumetery, 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 fays 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 so 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 ground;
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 stay'd behind,
His fellow fought what lodging he could find:
At last he found a ftall where oxen stood,
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 rest 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.
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