I am ſenſible, an Author ſhould obſerve as proper Seaſons for his Productions, as the ſkilful Huſbandman or Floriſt for their Seeds; and I am of Opinion, I could not have preſented this curious inquiſitive Age, with a Work more admirably calculated, to amuſe and employ their vaſt Knowledge and deep Reſerches, and divert them from leſs uſeful, tho' more dangerous Enquiries, which they are of late ſo profoundly taken up with.
In the laſt place, my dear Reader, when I conſider'd that the great Auguſtus, as Suetonius tells us, neither neglected his own nor other Mens Dreams, concerning himſelf or his Affairs, and conſequently whatever related to his Country, or the whole World which was his Empire;[1] Somnia neque ſua neque aliena de ſe negligebat are the Hiſtorian's Words when I read in the great Artimedorus, that it was the Cuſtom of the Antients, that whatever any one had dreamt of the Publick, relating to the Commonwealth, he ſhould publiſh either by the Voice of the common Crier, or by a written Table ſet up to the view of others;[2] moris antiqui ſuit, ut quicquid quiſque de republica ſomniaſſet, illud vel Præconis voce, vel Pittacio, hoc
est,
