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What then remains, but, waving each extreme, Ere canvas yet was strain’d, before the grace
The tides of ignorance and pride to stem? Of blended colors found their use and place,
Neither so rich a treasure to forego;

Or cypress tablets first receiv'd a face.
Nor proudly seek beyond our power to know: By slow degrees the godlike art advanc'd;
Faith is not built on disquisitions vain ;

As man grew polish’d, picture was enhanc'd :
The things we must believe are few and plain : Greece added posture, shade, and perspective;
But, since men will believe more than they need, And then the mimic piece began to live.
And every man will make himself a creed, Yet perspective was lame, no distance true,
In doubtful questions 'tis the safest way

But all came forward in one common view; To learn what unsuspected ancients say :

No point of light was known, no bounds of art; For’uis not likely we should higher soar

When light was there, it knew not to depart,
In search of Heaven, than all the church before: But glaring on remoter objects play'd ;
Nor can we be deceiv'd, unless we see

Not languish'd, and insensibly decay'd.
The Scripture and the fathers disagree.

Rome rais'd not art, but barely kept alive, If after all they stand suspected still,

And with old Greece unequally did strive : For no man's faith depends upon his will ; Till Goths and Vandals, a rude northern race, "Tis some relief, that points not clearly known Did all the matchless monuments deface. Without much hazard may be let alone :

Then all the Muses in one ruin lie,
And, after hearing what our church can say, And rhyme began t' enervate poetry.
If still our reason runs another way,

Thus, in a stupid military state,
That private reason 'tis more just to curb, The pen and pencil find an equal fate.
Than by disputes the publie peace disturb. Flat faces, such as would disgrace a screen,
For points obscure are of small use to learn : Such as in Bantam's embassy were seen.
But common quiet is mankind's concern.

Unrais'd, unrounded, were the rude delight
Thus have I made my own opinions clear: of brutal nations, only born to fight.
Yet neither praise expect, nor censure fear: - Long time the sister arts, in iron sleep,
And this unpolish'd rugged verse I chose ;

A heavy sabbath did supinely keep :
As fittest for discourse, and nearest prose :

At length, in Raphael's age, at once they rise, For while from sacred truth I do not swerve, Stretch all their limbs, and open all their eyes. Tom Sternhold's or Tom Shadwell's rhymes will serve. Thence rose the Roman, and the Lombard line :

One color'd best, and one did best design.

Raphael's, like Homer's, was the nobler part,
But Titian's painting look'd like Virgil's art.

Thy genius gives thee both ; where true design,

Postures unforc'd, and lively colors, join.

Likeness is ever there; but still the best,
PRINCIPAL PAINTER TO HIS MAJESTY. Like proper thoughts in lofty language drest ;

Where light, to shades descending, plays, not strives, ONCE I beheld the fairest of her kind,

Dies by degrees, and by degrees revives. And still the sweet idea charms my mind : of various parts a perfect whole is wrought : True, she was dumb; for nature gaz'd so long, Thy pictures think, and we divine their thought. Pleas'd with her work, that she forgot her tongue; Shakspeare, thy gift, I place before my sight : But, smiling, said, “ She still shall gain the prize ; With awe, I ask his blessing ere I write; I only have transferr'd it to her eyes."

With reverence look on his majestic face; Such are thy pictures, Kneller: such thy skill, Proud to be less, but of his godlike race, That Nature seems obedient to thy will ;

His soul inspires me, while thy praise I write,
Comes out, and meets thy pencil in the draught; And I, like Teucer, under Ajax fight,
Lives there, and wants but words to speak her Bids thee, through me, behold; with dauntless breast

Contemn the bad, and emulate the best.
At least thy pictures look a voice; and we Like his, thy critics, in th' attempt are lost :
Imagine sounds, deceiv'd to that degree,

When most they rail, know then, they envy most. We think 'tis somewhat more than just to see. In vain they snarl aloof; a noisy crowd,

Shadows are but privations of the light; Like women's anger, impotent and loud.
Yet, when we walk, they shoot before the sight; While they their barren industry deplore,
With us approach, retire, arise, and fall ;

Pass on secure, and mind the goal before.
Nothing themselves, and yet expressing all. Old as she is, my Muse shall march behind,
Such are thy pieces, imitating life

Bear off the blast, and intercept the wind. So near, they almost conquer in the strife ; Our arts are sisters, though not twins in birth : And from their animated canvas came,

For hymns were sung in Eden's happy earth : Demanding souls, and loosen'd from the frame. But oh, the painter Muse, though last in place,

Prometheus, were he here, would cast away Has seiz'd the blessing first, like Jacob's race.
His Adam, and refuse a soul to clay ;

Apelles' art an Alexander found ;
And either would thy noble work inspire,

And Raphael did with Leo's gold abound;
Or think it warm enough without his fire. But Homer was with barren laurel crown'd.

But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise ; Thou hadst thy Charles awhile, and so had I;
This is the least attendant on thy praise :

But pass we that unpleasing image by.
From hence the rudiments of art began;

Rich in thyself, and of thyself divine ; A coal, or chalk, first imitated man:

All pilgrims come and offer at thy shrine. Perhaps the shadow, taken on a wall,

A graceful truth thy pencil can command; Gave outlines to the rude original ;

The fair themselves go mended from thy hand.



Likeness appears in every lineament;

But likeness in thy work is eloquent.
Though Nature there her true resemblance bears,

OR, THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST. A nobler beauty in thy piece appears.

Tiere liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, So warm thy work, so glows the generous frame, A widow, somewhat old, and very poor : Flesh looks less living in the lovely dame.

Deep in her cell her collage lonely stood, Thou paint'st as we describe, improving still, Well thatch'd and under covert of a wood. When on wild Nature we ingraft our skill; This dowager, on whom my tale I found, But not creating beauties at our will.

Since last she laid her husband in the ground, But poets are contin'd in narrower space, A simple sober lise, in patience, led, To speak the language of their native place: And had but just enough to buy her bread : The painter widely stretches his command ;

But huswiting the little Heaven had lent, Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land. She duly paid a groat for quarter rent; From hence, my friend, all climates are your own, And pinch'd her belly, with her daughters two, Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none.

To bring the year about with much ado. All nations all immunities will give

The cattle in her homestead were three sows, To make you theirs, where'er you please to live; An ewe callid Mallie, and three brinded cows. And not seven cities, but the world would strive.

Her parlor-window stuck with herbs around, Sure some propitious planet then did smile, Of savory smell; and rushes strew'd the ground. When first you were conducted to this isle : A maple-uresser in her hall she had, Our genius brought you here, t' enlarge our fame : On which full many a slender meal she made; For your good stars are everywhere the same. For no delicious morsel pass'd her throat; Thy matchless hand, of every region free, According to her cloth she cut her coat: Adopts our climate, not our climate thce.

No poignant sauce she knew, nor costly treat,
Great Rome and Venice early did impart Her hunger gave a relish to her meat:
To thee the examples of their wondrous art. A sparing diet did her health assure ;
Those masters then, but seen, not understood, Or, sick, a pepper posset was her cure.
With generous emulation fir'd thy blood :

Before the day was done, her work she sped,
For what in Nature's dawn the child admir'd, And never went by candle-light to bed :
The youth endeavor'd, and the man acquir'd. With exercise she sweat ill humors out,

If yet thou hast not reach'd their high degree, Her dancing was not hinder'd by the gout. "T'is only wanting to this age, not thee.

Her poverty was glad ; her heart content; Thy genius, bounded by the times, like mine, Nor knew she what the spleen or vapors meant Drudges on petty draughts, nor dare design

Of wine she never tasted through the year, A more exalted work, and more divine.

But white and black was all her homely cheer: For what a song, or senseless opera,

Brown bread, and milk, (but first she skimm'd her Is to the living labor of a play ;

bowls) Or what a play to Virgil's work would be, And rashers of sing d bacon on the coals. Such is a single piece to history.

On holy-days an egg, or two at most; But we, who life bestow, ourselves must live: But her ambition never reach'd to roast. Kings cannot reign, unless their subjects give : A yard she had with pales inclos'd about, And they, who pay the taxes, bear the rule: Some high, some low, and a dry ditch without. Thus, thou, sometimes, art forc'd to draw a fool: Within this homestead, liv'd, without a peer, But so his follies in thy posture sink,

For crowing loud, the noble Chanticleer; The senseless idiot seems at last to think.

So hight her cock, whose singing did surpass Good Heaven! that sots and knaves should be so The merry notes of organs at the mass. vain,

More certain was the crowing of the cock To wish their vile resemblance may remain! To number hours, than is an abbey-clock; And stand recorded, at their own request,

And sooner than the matin-bell was rung, To future days, a libel or a jest!

He clapp'd his wings upon his roost, and sung: Else should we see your noble pencil trace For when degrees fifteen ascended right, Our unities of action, time, and place:

By sure instinct he knew 'twas one at night. A whole compos'd of parts, and those the best, High was his comb, and coral red withal, With every various character exprest;

In dents embattled like a castle wall; Heroes at large, and at a nearer view :

His bill was raven-black, and shone like jet ; Less, and at distance, an ignobler crew.

Blue were his legs, and orient were his feet: While all the figures in one action join,

White were his nails, like silver to behold. As tending to complete the main design.

His body glittering like the burnish'd gold. More cannot be by mortal art exprest;

This gentle cock, for solace of his life, But venerable age shall add the rest,

Six misses had, besides his lawful wife; For Time shall with his ready pencil stand ; Scandal, that spares no king, though ne'er so good, Retouch your figures with his ripening hand; Says, they were all of his own flesh and blood, Mellow your colors, and embrown the teint; His sisters both by sire and mother's side ; Add every grace, which Time alone can grant; And sure their likeness show'd them near allied. To future ages shall your fame convey,

But make the worst, the monarch did no more And give more beauties than he takes away. Than all the Ptolemys had done before :

When incest is for interest of a nation,
"Tis made no sin by holy dispensation.
Some lines have been maintain'd by this alone.
Which by their common ugliness are known.

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But passing this, as from our tale apart,

How dar'st thou tell thy dame thou art affeard ? Dame Partlet was the sovereign of his heart : Hast thou no manly heart, and hast a beard? Ardent in love, outrageous in his play,

“If aught from fearful dreams may be divin’d, He feather'd her a hundred times a day :

They signify a cock of dunghill kind. And she, that was not only passing fair,

All dreams, as in old Galen I have read, But was withal discreet, and debonnaire,

Are from repletion and complexion bred; Resolv'd the passive doctrine to fulfil,

From rising fumes of indigested food,
Though loth ; and let him work his wicked will: And noxious humors that infect the blood :
At board and bed was affable and kind,

And sure, my lord, if I can read aright,
According as their marriage vow did bind, These foolish farcies you have had to-night
And as the church's precept had enjoin'd: Are certain symptoms (in the canting style)
Ev'n since she was a se'nnight old, they say, Of boiling choler, and abounding bile;
Was chaste and humble to her dying day, This yellow gall, that in your stomach floats,
Nor chick nor hen was known to disobey.

Engenders all these visionary thoughts.
By this her husband's heart she did obtain ; When choler overflows, then dreams are bred
What cannot beauty, join'd with virtue, gain! Of flames, and all the family of red;
She was his only joy, and he her pride,

Red dragons, and red beasts, in sleep we view,
She, when he walk’d, went pecking by his side ; For humors are distinguish'd by their hue.
If, spurning up the ground, he sprung a corn, From hence we dream of wars and warlike things,
The tribute in his bill to her was borne.

And wasps and hornets with their double wings. But, Oh! what joy it was to hear him sing Choler adust congeals our blood with fear, In summer, when the day began to spring, Then black bulls toss us, and black devils tear. Stretching his neck, and warbling in his throat, In sanguine airy dreams aloft we bound, * Solus cum sola,” then was all his note.

With rheums oppress'd we sink, in rivers drown'd. For in the days of yore, the birds of parts

“ More I could say, but thus conclude my there, Were bred to speak, and sing, and learn the liberal The dominating humor makes the dream. arts.

Cato was in his time accounted wise, It happ'd, that, perching on the parlor-beam And he condemns them all for empty lies. Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream, Take my advice, and when we fly to ground, Just at the dawn; and sigh'd, and groand so fast, With laxatives preserve your body sound, As every breath he drew would be his last.

And purge the peccant humors that abound. Dame Partlet, ever nearest to his side,

I should be loth to lay you on a bier; Heard all his piteous moan, and how he cried And though there lives no 'pothecary near, For help from gods and men: and sore aghast I dare for once prescribe for your disease, She peck'd and pull'd, and waken'd him at last. And save long bills, and a damn'd doctor's fees. “Dear heart," said she," for love of Heaven, declare “ Two sovereign herbs, which I by practice Your pain, and make me partner of your care.

know, You groan, sir, ever since the morning-light, And both at hand (for in our yard they grow ;) As something had disturb'd your noble spright." On peril of my soul shall rid you wholly

And, madam, well I might,” said Chanticleer, of yellow choler, and of melancholy: * Never was shrovetide cock in such a fear; You must both purge and vomit; but obey, Evin still I run all over in a sweat,

And for the love of Heaven make no delay. My princely senses not recover'd yet.

Since hot and dry in your complexion join,
For such a dream I had of dire portent,

Beware the Sun when in a vernal sign;
That much I fear my body will be shent : For when he mounts exalted in the Ram,
It bodes I shall have wars and woful strife, If then he finds your body in a flame,
Or in a lothesome dungeon end my life.

Replete with choler, I dare lay a groat,
Know, dame, I dreamt within my troubled breast, A tertian ague is at least your lot.
That in our yard I saw a murderous beast, Perhaps a fever (which the gods forefend)
That on my body would have made arrest. May bring your youth to some untimely end :
With waking eyes I ne'er beheld his fellow; And therefore, sir, as you desire to live,
His color was betwixt a red and yellow :

A day or two before your laxative,
Tipp'd was his tail, and both his pricking ears Take just three worms, nor under nor above,
Were black, and much unlike his other hairs : Because the gods unequal numbers love.
The rest, in shape a beagle's whelp throughout, These digestives prepare you for your purge;
With broader forehead, and a sharper snout : Of fumetery, centaury, and spurge,
Deep in his front were sunk his glowing eyes, And of ground-ivy add a leaf or two,
That yet methinks I see him with surprise. All which within our yard or garden grow.
Reach out your hand, I drop with clammy sweat, Eat these, and be, my lord, of better cheer;
And lay it to my heart, and feel it beat.”

Your father's son was never born to fear." “Now fy for shame," quoth she,“ by Heaven above, “ Madam," quoth he, “ gramercy for your care, Thou hast for ever lost thy lady's love;

But Cato, whom you quoted, you may spare : No woman can endure a recreant knight,

'Tis true, a wise and worthy man he seems, He must be bold by day, and free by night: And (as you say) gave no belief to dreams · Our sex desires a husband or a friend,

But other men of more authority, Who can our honor and his own defend;

And, by th' immortal powers, as wise as he, Wise, hardy, secret, liberal of his purse :

Maintain, with sounder sense, that dreams forebode; A fool is nauseous, but a coward worse :

For Homer plainly says they come from God.
No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight, Nor Cato said it: but some modern fool
How dar'st thou talk of love, and dar'st not fight? Impos'd in Cato's name on boys at school.

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“ Believe me, madam, morning dreams foreshow Ye magistrates, who sacred laws dispense, Th'event of things, and future weal or woe: On you I call, to punish this offence.' Some truths are not by reason to be tried,

The word thus given, within a little space, But we have sure experience for our guide. The mob came roaring out, and throng'd the place An ancient author, equal with the best,

All in a trice they cast the cart to ground, Relates this tale of dreams among the rest.

And in the dung the murder'd body found; “ Two friends or brothers, with devout intent, Though breathless, warm, and reeking from the On some far pilgrimage together went.

wound. It happen'd so, that, when the Sun was down, Good Heaven, whose darling attribute we find They just arriv'd by twilight at a town:

Is boundless grace, and mercy to mankind, That day had been the baiting of a bull,

Abhors the ruel; and the deeds of night 'Twas at a feast, and every inn so full,

By wondrous ways reveals in open light: That no void room in chamber, or on ground, Murder may pass unpunish'd for a time, And but one sorry bed, was to be found :

But tardy Justice will o'ertake the crime. And that so little it would hold but one,

And oft a speedier pain the guilty feels : Though till this hour they never lay alone. The hue and cry of Heaven pursues him at the heels:

“So were they forc'd to part; one stay'd behind, Fresh from the fact, as in the present case, His fellow sought what lodging he could find : The criminals are seiz'd upon the place : At last he found a stall where oxen stood,

Carter and host confronted face to face. And that he rather chose than lie abroad.

Stiff in denial, as the law appoints, 'Twas in a farther yard without a door;

On engines they distend their tortur'd joints : But, for his ease, well litter'd was the floor.

So was confession forc'd, th' offence was known, “ His fellow, who the narrow bed had kept, And public justice on th' offenders done. Was weary, and without a rocker slept :

Ilere may you see that visions are to dread; Supine he snor'd; but in the dead of night, And in the page that follows this, I read He dreamt his friend appear'd before his sight, Of two young merchants, whom the hope of gain Who, with a ghastly look and doleful cry,

Induc'd in partnership to cross the main. Said, “Help me, brother, or this night I die : Waiting till willing winds their sails supplied, Arise, and help, before all help be vain,

Within a trading town they long abide, Or in an ox's stall I shall be slain.'

Full fairly situate on a haven's side ; “ Rous'd from his rest, he waken'd in a start, One evening it befell, that looking out, Shivering with horror, and with aching heart. The wind they long had wish'd was come about : At length to cure himself by reason tries; Well pleas'd they went to rest; and if the gale "Tis but a dream, and what are dreams but lies? Till morn continued, both resolvid to sail. So thinking, chang'd his side, and clos'd his eyes. But as together in a bed they lay, His dream returns; his friend appears again : The younger had a dream at break of day. • The murderers come, now help, or I am slain:' A man he thought stood frowning at his side ; "Twas but a vision still, and visions are but vain. Who warn'd him for his safety to provide, He dreamt the third: but now his friend appear'd, Nor put to sea, but safe on shore abide. Pale, naked, pierc'd with wounds, with blood be. I come, thy genius, to command thy stay; smear'd :

Trust not the winds, for fatal is the day, Thrice warn'd, “Awake,' said he; relief is late, And Death unhop'd attends the watery way.' The deed is done; but thou revenge my fate : “The vision said : and vanishd from his sight: Tardy of aid, unseal thy heavy eyes,

The dreamer waken'd in a mortal fright: Awake, and with the dawning day arise:

Then pulld his drowsy neighbor, and declar'd Take to the western gate thy ready way,

What in his slumber he had seen and heard. For by that passage they my corpse convey:

His friend smild scornful, and with proud contempt My corpse is in a tumbril laid, among

Rejects as idle what his fellow dreamt. The filth and ordure, and inclos'd with dung: Stay, who will stay: for me no fears restrain, That cart arrest, and raise a common cry;

Who follow Mercury the god of gain; For sacred hunger of my gold, I die:'

Let each man do as to his fancy seems, Then show'd his grisly wound; and last he drew I wait not, I, till you have better dreams. A piteous sigh, and took a long adieu.

Dreams are but interludes which Fancy makes; • The frighted friend arose by break of day, When monarch Reason sleeps, this mimic wakes: And found the stall where late his fellow lay. Compounds a medley of disjointed things, Then of his impious host inquiring more,

A mob of cobblers, and a court of kings : Was answer'd that his guest was gone before : Light fumes are merry, grosser fumes are sad : • Muttering, he went,' said he, ‘ by morning light, Both are the reasonable soul run mad : And much complain'd of his ill rest by night.' And many monstrous forms in sleep we see, This rais'd suspicion in the pilgrim's mind ; That neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be. Because all hosts are of an evil kind,

Sometimes forgotten things long cast behind And oft to share the spoils with robbers join'd. Rush forward in the brain, and come to mind. · His dream confirm'd his thought : with troubled The nurse's legends are for truths receiv'd, look

And the man dreams but what the boy believ'd. Straight to the western gate his way he took ; Sometimes we but rehearse a former play, There, as his dream foretold, a cart he found, The night restores our actions done by day; That carried compost forth to dung the ground. As hounds in sleep will open for their prey. This when the pilgrim saw, he stretch'd his throat, In short, the farce of dreams is of a piece, And cried out murder with a yelling note. Chimeras all; and more absurd, or less : * My murderd fellow in this cart lies dead, You, who believe in tales, abide alone; Vengeance and justice on the villain's head. Whate'er I get this voyage is my own.'




Thus while he spoke, he heard the shouting crew While thou art constant to thy own true knight,
That call'd aboard, and took his last adieu. While thou art mine, and I am thy delight,
The vessel went before a merry gale,

All sorrows at thy presence take their flight.
And for quick passage put on every sail : For true it is, as in principio,
But when least fear'd, and ev'n in open day, Mulier est hominis confusio.
The mischief overtook her in the way:

Madam, the meaning of this Latin is,
Whether she sprung a leak, I cannot find,

That woman is to man his sovereign bliss. Or whether she was overset with wind,

For when by night I feel your tender side,
Or that some rock below her bottom rent;

Though for the narrow perch I cannot ride,
But down at once with all her crew she went:, Yet I have such a solace in my mind,
Her fellow-ships from far her loss descried: That all my boding cares are cast behind ;
But only she was sunk, and all were safe beside. And ev'n already I forget my dream :"

* By this example you are taught again, He said, and downward flew from off the beam.
That dreams and visions are not always vain : For daylight now began apace to spring,
But if, dear Partlet, you are still in doubt, The thrush to whistle, and the lark to sing.
Another tale shall make the former out.

Then crowing clapp'd his wings, th' appointed call, * Kenelm the son of Kenulph, Mercia's king, . To chuck his wives together in the hall. Whose holy life the legends loudly sing,

By this the widow had unbarr'd the door, Warn'd in a dream, his murder did foretell

And Chanticleer went strutting out before, From point to point as after it befell;

With royal courage, and with heart so light, All circumstances to his nurse he told

As show'd he scorn'd the visions of the night.
(A wonder from a child of seven years old :) Now roaming in the yard he spurn’d the ground,
The dream with horror heard, the good old wife And gave to Partlet the first grain he found.
From treason counseld him to guard his life; Then often feather'd her with wanton play,
But close to keep the secret in his mind,

And trod her twenty times ere prime of day:
For a boy's vision small belief would find. And took by turns and gave so much delighi,
The pious child, by promise bound, obey'd, Her sisters pind with envy at the sight.
Nor was the fatal murder long delay'd :

He chuck'd again, when other corns he found, By Quenda slain, he fell before his time,

And scarcely deign’d to set a foot to ground;
Made a young martyr by his sister's crime. But swagger'd like a lord about his hall,
The tale is told by venerable Bede,

And his seven wives came running at his call. Which at your better leisure you may read.

'Twas now the month in which the world began * Macrobius too relates the vision sent

(If March beheld the first created man :) To the great Scipio, with the fam'd event: And since the vernal equinox, the Sun, Objections makes, but after makes replies,

In Aries, twelve degrees, or more, had run; And adds, that dreams are often prophecies. When casting up his eyes against the light, “Of Daniel you may read in holy writ,

Both month, and day, and hour, he measur'd right, Who, when the king his vision did forget,

And told more truly than th’ Ephemeris : Could word for word the wondrous dream repeat. For Art may err, but Nature cannot miss. Not less of patriarch Joseph understand,

Thus numbering times and seasons in his breast, Who by a dream enslav'd th' Egyptian land, His second crowing the third bour confess'd. The years of plenty and of dearth foretold, Then turning, said to Partlet, “See, my dear, When, for their bread, their liberty they sold. How lavish Nature has adorn'd the year ; Nor must th' exalted butler be forgot,

How the pale primrose and blue violet spring, Nor he whose dream presag'd his hanging lot. And birds essay their throats, disus'd to sing :

** And did not Cresus the same death foresee, All these are ours; and I with pleasure see Rais'd in his vision on a lofty tree ?

Man strutting on two legs, and aping me:
The wife of Hector, in his utmost pride,

An unfledg'd creature, of a lumpish frame,
Dreamt of his death the night before he died ; Endow'd with fewer particles of Name :
Well was he warn’d from battle to refrain, Our dames sit scouring o'er a kitchen fire,
But men to death decreed are warn’d in vain : I draw fresh air, and Nature's works admire:
He dar'd the dream, and by his fatal foe was slain. And ev’n this day in more delight abound,

“Much more I know, which I forbear to speak, Than, since I was an egg, I ever found.” For see, the ruddy day begins to break;

The time shall come when Chanticleer shall wish Let this suffice, that plainly I foresee

His words unsaid, and hate his boasted bliss : My dream was bad, and bodes adversity : The crested bird shall by experience know, But neither pills nor laxatives I like,

Jove made not him his masterpiece below; They only serve to make the well-man sick: And learn the latter end of joy is woe. Of these his gain the sharp physician makes, The vessel of his bliss to dregs is run, And often gives a purge, but seldom takes : And Heaven will have him taste his other tun. They not correct, but poison all the blood,

Ye wise, draw near, and hearken to my tale, And ne'er did any but the doctors good :

Which proves that oft the proud by flattery fall: Their tribe, trade, trinkets, I defy them all, The legend is as true, I undertake, With every work of 'pothecary's hall.

As Tristran is, and Launcelot of the lake:
These melancholy matters I forbear:

Which all our ladies in such reverence hold,
But let me tell thee, Partlet mine, and swear, As if in book of martyrs it were told.
That when I view the beauties of thy face,

A fox, full-fraught with seeming sanctity,
I fear not death, nor dangers, nor disgrace: That fear'd an oath, but, like the Devil, would lie;
So may my soul have bliss, as, when I spy Who look'd like Lent, and had the holy leer,
The scarlet red about thy partridge eye,

And durst not sin before he said his prayer;

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