The Works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 12. John Dryden

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      But whan that he was waken of his slepe

      He turned him, and toke of this no kepe;

      Him thought his dreme was but a vanitee.

      Thus twies in his sleping dremed he.

      And at the thridde time yet his felaw

      Came, as him thought, and said, I now am slaw;

      Behold my blody woundes depe and wide:

      Arise up erly in the morwe tide,

      And at the west gate of the toun (quod he)

      A carte ful of donge ther shalt thou see,

      In which my body is hid prively;

      Do thilke carte arresten boldely.

      My gold caused my mordre, soth to sain;

      And told him every point how he was slain

      With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe.

      And trusteth wel his dreme he found ful trewe.

      For on the morwe sone as it was day

      To his felawes inne he toke his way,

      And whan that he came to this oxes stalle

      After his felaw he began to calle.

      The hosteler answered him anon,

      And saide, Sire, your felaw is agon;

      As sone as day he went out of the toun.

      This man gan fallen in suspecioun,

      Remembring on his dremes that he mette,

      And forth he goth, no lenger wold he lette,

      Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond

      A dong carte as it went for to dong lond,

      That was arraied in the same wise

      As ye han herde the dede man devise;

      And with an hardy herte he gan to crie

      Vengeance and justice of this felonie;

      My felaw mordred is this same night,

      And in this carte he lith gaping upright.

      I crie out on the ministres, quod he,

      That shulden kepe and reulen this citee:

      Harow! alas! here lith my felaw slain.

      What shuld I more unto this tale sain?

      The peple out stert, and cast the cart to ground,

      And in the middle of the dong they found

      The dede man that mordred was all newe.

      O blisful God! that art so good and trewe,

      Lo, how that thou bewreyest mordre alway!

      Mordre wol out, that see we day by day:

      Mordre is so wlatsom and abhominable

      To God, that is so just and resonable,

      That he ne wol not suffre it hylled be:

      Though it abide a yere, or two or three,

      Mordre wol out; this is my conclusioun.

      And right anon the ministres of the toun

      Han hent the carter, and so sore him pined,

      And eke the hosteler so sore engined,

      That they beknewe hir wickednesse anon,

      And were anhanged by the necke bon.

      Here moun ye see that dremes ben to drede.

      And certes in the same book I rede,

      Right in the next chapitre after this,

      (I gabbe not, so have I joye and blis)

      Two men that wold han passed over the see,

      For certain cause, in to a fer contree,

      If that the winde ne hadde ben contrarie,

      That made hem in a citee for to tarie

      That stood ful mery upon a haven side:

      But on a day, agein the even tide,

      The wind gan change, and blew right as hem lest:

      Jolif and glad they wenten to hir rest,

      And casten hem ful erly for to saile;

      But to that o man fel a gret mervaile.

      That on of hem in sleping as he lay

      He mette a wondre dreme again the day:

      Him thought a man stood by his beddes side,

      And him commanded that he shuld abide,

      And said him thus; If thou to-morwe wende

      Thou shalt be dreint; my tale is at an ende.

      He woke, and told his felaw what he met,

      And praied him his viage for to let;

      As for that day he prayd him for to abide.

      His felaw, that lay by his beddes side,

      Gan for to laugh, and scorned him ful faste:

      No dreme, quod he, may so my herte agaste

      That I wol leten for to do my thinges:

      I sette not a straw by thy dreminges,

      For swevens ben but vanitees and japes:

      Men dreme al day of oules and of apes,

      And eke of many a mase therwithal;

      Men dreme of thing that never was ne shal.

      But sith I see that thou wol there abide,

      And thus forslouthen wilfully thy tide,

      God wot it reweth me; and have good day:

      And thus he took his leve, and went his way.

      But or that he had half his cours ysailed,

      N'ot I not why, ne what mischance it ailed,

      But casuelly the shippes bottom rente,

      And ship and man under the water wente

      In sight of other shippes ther beside

      That with him sailed at the same tide.

      And therefore, faire Pertelote so dere,

      By swiche ensamples olde maist thou lere

      That no man shulde be to reccheles

      Of dremes, for I say thee douteles

      That many a dreme ful sore is for to drede.

      Lo, in the lif of Seint Kenelme I rede,

      That was Kenulphus sone, the noble King

      Of Mercenrike, how Kenelm mette a thing.

      A litel or he were mordered on a day

      His mordre in his avision he say;

      His norice him expouned every del

      His sweven, and bade him for to kepe him wel

      Fro treson; but he n'as but seven yere old,

      And therefore litel tale hath he told

      Of any dreme, so holy was his herte.

      By God I hadde lever than my sherte

      That ye had red his legend as have I.

      Dame Pertelote, I say you trewely,

      Macrobius, that writ the avision

      In Affrike of the worthy Scipion,

      Affirmeth dremes, and sayth that they ben

      Warning of thinges that men after seen.

      And forthermore, I pray you loketh wel

      In The Olde Testament of Daniel,

      If he held dremes any vanitee.

      Rede eke of Joseph, and ther shuln ye see

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