ervous active Limbs,
And Scorn of every Beast that haunts the Wood.
With mighty Stride he travelled to and fro,
And as he mov'd his Size was still increas'd,
Till his wide Branches reached above the Trees,
And his extended Trunk across the Plain.
The other Beasts beheld with wild Amaze,
Stood trembling round, nor dare they to approach
Till the fierce Tyger yell'd the loud Alarm,
When Bears, Cats, Wolves, Panthers, and Porcupines,
And other Beasts of Prey, with Force united
And savage Rage, attack'd the common Foe.
But as the busking Bull, when Summer Flies,
With keenest Sting disturb the grazing Herd,
Stands careless in some shady cool Retreat,
And from his Sides sweeps the envenom'd Mites,
Or shakes them with a Stamp into the Dust;
So he unmov'd amidst their Clamours stood,
Trampled and spurn'd them with his Hoofs and Horns,
Till all dispers'd in wild Disorder fled,
And left him Master of th' extended Plain.

TENESCO.

This Dream no doubt is full of some great Meaning,
And in it bears the Fate of your Design,
But whether good or ill, to me 's a Secret.

PHILIP.

It ne'er was counted ill to dream of Elks,
But always thought portentous of Success,
Of happy Life, and Victories in War,
Or fortune good when we attempt the Chace.

CHEKITAN.

Such is the common Say; but here the Size
And all the Circumstances are uncommon,
And therefore can contain no common Meaning:
I fear these Things portend no Good to us,
That Mischiefs lurk like Serpents in the Grass,
Whose pois'nous deadly Bite precedes all Warning.
That this Design will end in mighty Ruin
To us and ours, Discord among our Friends,
And Triumph to our Foes.

PHILIP.

A valiant Hero!
Thou always wast a Coward, and hated War,
And lov'st to loll on the soft Lap of Peace.
Thou art a very Woman in thy Heart,
And talk'st of Snakes and Bugbears in the Dark,
Till all is Horror and Amaze about thee,
And even thy own Shadow makes thee tremble.

CHEKITAN.

Is there no Courage in delib'rate Wisdom?
Is all rank Cowardice but Fire and Fury?
Is it all womanish to re-consider
And weigh the Consequences of our Actions,
Before we desperately rush upon them?
Let me then be the Coward, a mere Woman,
Mine be the Praise of Coolness, yours of Rage.

PONTEACH.

Peace, Peace, my Sons, nor let this casual Strife
divide your Hearts; both mean the common Good;
Go Hand in Hand to conquer and promote it.
I'll to our worthy Doctor and the Priest,
Who for our Souls'