Wife, hardy, secret, lib'ral of his purse :
A fool is naufeous, but a coward worfe:

No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight,
How dar'ft thou talk of love, and dar'st not fight?
How dar'st thou tell thy dame thou art affer'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 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 symptoms (in the canting style)
Of boiling choler, and abounding bile:

This yellow gaul that in your stomach floats,
Ingenders 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 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 téar.
In fanguine airy dreams aloft we bound,
With rhumes opprefs'd we fink 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 peccant humours that abound.
I should be loath to lay you on a bier;
And though there lives no 'pothecary near,
I dare for once prefcribe for your difeafe,
And fave long bills, and a damn'd doctor's fees.

Two fovereign 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 Sun 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 a least your lot.
Perhaps a fever (which the gods forefend)
May bring your youth to fome untimely end.
And therefore, fir, as you defire to live,
A day or two before your laxative,

Take juft three worms, nor over nor above,
Because the gods unequal numbers love.
Thefe digeftives prepare you for your purge
Of fumetary, centaury, and spurge,

And of ground-ivy add a leaf, or two,
All which within our yard or garden grow.
Eat thefe. 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 sense, that dreams forbode;
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 foreshow
Th' events of things, and future well 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 rhe baiting of a bull,
'Twas at a feast, 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,

Though till this hour they never lay alone.

So were they forc'd to part; one flay'd behind,
His fellow fought what lodging he cou'd find
At last he found a stall where oxen stood,
And that he rather chose than lie abroad.
'Twas in a farther yard without a door,
But for his eafe, 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.

Rouz'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;
'Twas 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 vision still, and vifions are but vain.

He dreamt the third: but now his friend appear'd Pale, naked, pierc'd with wounds, with blood befmear': 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 arife:
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 enclos'd with dung.
That cart arreft, and raise 2 common cry,
For facred hunger of my gold I die;

Then fhew'd his grifly wounds; and last he drew
A piteous figh; and took a long adieu.

The frighted friend arose by break of day,
And found the stall where late his fellow lay.
Then of his impious hoft enquiring more,
Was anfwer'd that his guest was gone before:
Mutt'ring he went, faid he, by morning light,
And much complain'd of his ill reft by night.
This rais'd fufpicion in the pilgrim's mind;
Because all hofts are of an evil kind,

And oft, to share the spoil, 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 compoft 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 dispense, 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; Though, breathlefs, warm, and recking from the wound.