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Ev'n at that Time when mortal War's within,
When the Blood boils and flushes to be at him ;
Yet then to shew the Signs of heartiest Love, (of Par.
To cringe, to fawn, to smile, to weep, to swear. Lee More
Thou shalt

not break yet, Heart, nor shall the know
My inward Torment by my outward Show :
To let her see my Weakness were too base ;
Dissembled Quiet sit upon my Face :
My Sorrow .to my Eyes no Pallage find,
But let it inward fink, and drown my Mind.
Falfhood shall want its Triumph! I begin
To stagger, but I'll prop my self within :
The spacious Tow'r no Ruin (hall disclose,
Till down at once the mighty Fabrick goes. Dryd. Atren.

These Words he spoke, but spoke not from his Heart; His outward Smiles conceal'd his inward Smart. Dryd. Virg.

Dissembling Hope, her cloudy Front fhe clears, And a false Vigour in her Eyes appears.

Dryd. Virg.
In vain you footh me with your soft Endearments,
"And set che fairest Countenance to view;
Your gloomy Eyes betray a Deadness,
And inward Languishing : That Oracle
Eats, like a subtle Worm, its venom'd Way,
Preys on your Heart, and rots the noble Core ;
Howe'er the beauteous Outside shews so lovely. Lee Oedip.

Unhurt, untouch'd, did I complain,
And terrify'd all others with my Pain;

But now I feel the mighty Evil:

Ah there's no fooling with the Devil!
So wanton Men, while they would others fright,

Themselves have met a real Spright.

Darts, and Wounds, and Flame, and Heat,
I nam'd but for the Rhyme or the Conceit;

Nor meant my Verse should raised be,

To this fad Fame of Prophecy.
Truth gives a dull Propriety to my Stile,

And all the Metaphors does spoil.

In things where Fancy much does reign,
Tis dangerous too cunningly

to feign.
The Play at last a Truth does grow,

And Custom into Nature go.
By this curst Art of Begging, I became

Lame, with counterfeiting Lame.

My Lines of amorous Desire
I wrote to kindle and blow others Fire

And 'twas a barbarous Delight
My Fancy promis’d from the Sight :


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But now, by Love, the mighty Phalaris, I
My burning Bull the first do cry.

Diffenfions, like small Streams, at first begun,
Scarce seen they rife, but gather as they run:
So Lines that from their Parallel decline,
More they advance, the more they still disjoin.

DOGS. See Hunting.

As when a Dolphin sports upon the Tide,
Displays his Beauties and his fcaly Pride;
His various-colour'd Arch adorns the Flood,
Like a bright Rainbow in a wat'ry Cloud :
He from the Billows leaps with gamesom Strife,
Wanton with Vigour and immod'rate Life.
The Dolphins in the Deep each other chafe

(Virg. In Circles, when they swim around the wat'ry Race. Dryd.

Doubt's the worst Tyrant of a gen'rous Mind,
The Coward's ill, who dares not meet his Fate,
And ever doubting to be fortunate,
Falls to the Wretchedness his Fears create.

Oh how this Tyrant Doubt torments my Breaft!
My Thoughts, like Birds, who frighted from their Rest,
Around the Place, where all was hulh'd before,
Flutter, and hardly settle any more.

Otw. Don Carl.
Floating in a Flood of Care,
This Way and that he turns his anxious Mind,
Thinks and rejects the Counsel he design'd:
Explores himself in vain in ev'ry Part,
And gives no Rest to his diftracted Heart. Dryd. Virg

For various Thoughts began to bustle,
And with his inward Man to justle.
He stop'd and paus d upon the suddain,
And with a serious Forehead plodding,
Sprung a new Scruple in his Head,
Which firft he scratch'd, and after said:
Quoth he, in all my past Adventures
I ne'er was set fo on the Tenters,
Or taken tardy with Dilemma,
That ev'ry way I turn does hem me,
And with inextricable Doubt,
Besets my puzzled Wits about.

Doubt is some Ease to those who fear the worst. Dryd. State of

(Inn. As when a Dove her rocky Hold forsakes; Rowz'd in a Fright, her founding Wings The Shakes :


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The Cavern rings with clatt'ring; out she flies,
And leaves her callow Care, and cleaves the Skies;
At first she flutters, but at length she springs,
To smoother Flight, and shoots upon her Wings. Dryd. Virg.

Dreams are but Interludes which Fancy makes,
When Monarch Reason sleeps, this Mimick wakes 3
Compounds a Medley of disjointed things,
A Court of Goblers, and a Mob of Kings:
Light Fumes are merry, grosser Fumes are sad;
Boch are the reasonable Soul run mad;
And many monstrous Forms in Sleep we fee,
That never were, nor are, nor e'er can be,
Sometimes forgotten things, long cast behind,
Ruth forward in the Brain, and come to mind;
The Nurses Legends are for Truths receiy'd,
And the Man dreams but what the Boy believ'd.
Sometimes we but rehearse a former Play,
The Night restores our A&ions done by Day;
As Hounds in Sleep will open for their Prey.
In short, the Farce of Dreams is of a Piece,
Chimeras all, and more absurd or less. Dryd. The Cock and the Fox.

All Dreams Are from Repletion and Complexion bred, From rising Fumes of indigefted Food, And noxious Humours that infe&t the Blood. When Choler overflows, chen 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 War and warlike things, And Wasps and Hornets with cheir double Wings. Choler aduft congeals our Blood with Fear, Then black Bulls toss us, and black Devils tear. In fanguin airy Dreams aloft we bound; With Rheums oppress’d, we fink in Rivers drown'd. (Fox. The dominating Humour makes the Dream. Dr. the Cock and the

When heavy Sleep has clos'd the Sight; And fickly Fancy labours in the Night, We seem to run, and destitute of Force, Our sinking Limbs forsake us in the Course: In vain we heave for Breath, in vain we cry, The Nerves unbrac'd their usual Strength deny, And on the Tongue the fault'ring Accents die. Dryd. Virg.

As one, who in some frightful Dream would shun His pressing Foe, labours in vain to run ;


And his own Slowness in his Sleep bemoans,
With thick short Sighs, weak Cries and tender Groans. Dryd.
His idle Feet

(Cong.of Gron. Grow to the Ground; his struggling Voice dies inward. Dryd.

As he, who in a Dream with Droughe is curs’d, (Troil. & Cress. And finds no real Drink to quench his Thirst, Runs to imagin'd Lakes his Heat to steep, And vainly [wills, and labours in his Sleep. Dryd. Lucr.

A Dream o'ertook me at my waking Hour This Morn; and Dreams they say are then divine, When all the balmy Vapours are exhald, And some o'erpow ring God continues Sleep. Dryd. Don Seb.

DRINKING. See Bowl, Silenus. Crown high the Gobblets with a chearful Draught; Enjoy the present Hour, adjourn the future Thought. Dr. Virg.

They brim their ample Bowls. Fill high the Goblecs with a fparkling Flood. Dryd. Virg. Indulge thy Genius, and o'er-flow

thy Soul, Till thy Wit sparkle like the chearful Bowl. Dryd. Pers.

The flowing Bowl With a full Tide inlarg'd his chearful Soul.

Steph. Juv.
Make Hafte to meet the gen'rous Wine,

Whose piercing is for thee delay'd,
The rosy Wreath is ready made,

And artful Hands prepare
The fragranc Oil, that shall perfume thy Hair.

When the Wine sparkles from afar,
And the well-natur'd Friend cries, come away:
Make Hafte, and leave thy Bus'ness and thy Care;
No mortal Int'rest can be worth thy Sray.

Dryd. Hgr.
Here's to thee, Dick, this whining Love despise,
Pledge me, my Friend, and drink till thou are wise

It sparkles brighter far than she ; :
'Tis pure, and right without Deceit,
And such no Woman e'er will be,

No! they are all sophisticate!
Here's to thee again: Thy fenfeless Sorrow drown'd,
Let the Glass walk till all Things too go round:

Again: Till thefe Two Lights are Four :
No Errours here can dang'rous prove ;
Thy Passion, Man, deceives thee more :
None double see like Men in Love.

Fill the Bowl with rosy Wine:
Around our Temples Roses twine,
And let us chearfully awhile,
Like the Wine, and Roses, smile.
Crown'd with Roses we contema
Gyges wealthy Diadem.


To Day is ours! what do we fear?
To Day is ours ! we have it here!
Let's treat it kindly, that it may,
Wilh at least with us to stay.
Let's banish Business, banith Sorrow,
To the Gods belongs To-morrow. Cowl, Anas

Underneath this Myrtle Shade,
On flow'ry Beds supinely laid,
With od'rous Oils my Head o'er-flowing.
And around it Roses growing,
What should I do, but drink away.
The Heat and Trouble of the Day?
In this more than Kingly State,
Love himself thall on me wait :
Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up,
And mingled, caft into the Cup,
Wit, and Mirth, and noble Fires,
Vig'rous Health, and gay Defires.
The Wheel of Life no less will stay,
In a smooth than rugged Way :
Since it equally does flee,
Let the Motion pleasant be.
Why do we precious Ointments fhow'r,
Noble Wines why do we pour,
Beauteous Flow'rs why do we spread,
On the Monuments of the Dead?
Nothing they but Duft can show,
Or Bones thaç haften to be so :
Crown me with Roses whilft I live :
Now your Wines and Ointments give :
After Death I nothing crave,
Let me alive my Pleasures have;
All are Stoicks in the Grave.

Comel, Anac.
The thirsty Earth foaks up the Rain,
And drinks, and gapes for Drink again.
The Plants suck in the Earth, and are
By constant Drinking, fresh and fair :
The Sea it self, which one would think
Should have but little need of Drink,
Drinks Ten thousand Rivers up,
So fill'd, that they o'erflow the Cup.
The busy Sun, and one would ghess,
By's drunken fiery Face no less.
Drinks up the Sea, and when h'as done,
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun :
They drink and dance by their own Light,
They drink and revel all the Night.


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