Art thou for something rare and profitable ? Wouldest thou see a Truth within a Fable ? Art thou forgetful ? Wouldest thou remember From New-year's-day to the last of December ? Then read my Fancies, they will stick like Burrs, And may be to the Helpless, Comforters. This Book is writ in such a Dialect As may the minds of listless men affect : It seems a novelty, and yet contains Nothing but sound and honest Gospel strains. Would 'st thou divert thyself from Melancholly ? Would'st thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? Would'st thou read Riddles, and their Explanation ? Or else be drownded in thy Contemplation ? Dost thou love picking meat ? Or would'st thou see A man i' th' Clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? Would'st thou be in a Dream, and yet not sleep ? Or would'st thou in a moment laugh and weep ? Wouldest thou lose thyself, and catch no harm, And find thyself again without a charm ? Would'st read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, And yet know whether thou art blest or not, By reading the same lines ? O then come hither, And lay my Book, thy Head, and Heart together. JOHN BUNYAN.
