In allë hastë come to me,’ he said.
This man out of his sleep for fear abraid;4307
But when that he was wak’d out of his sleep,
He turned him, and took of this no keep;
He thought his dream was but a vanity.
Thus twiës in his sleeping dreamed he,
And at the thirdë time yet4308 his felláw
Came, as he thought, and said, ‘I am now slaw;4309
Behold my bloody woundës, deep and wide.
Arise up early, in the morning, tide,
And at the west gate of the town,’ quoth he,
‘A cartë full of dung there shalt: thou see,
In which my body is hid privily.
Do thilkë cart arrostë4310 boldëly.
My gold caused my murder, sooth to sayn.’
And told him every point how he was slain,
With a full piteous face, and pale of hue.
“And, trustë well, his dream he found full true;
For on the morrow, as soon as it was day,
To his fellówë’s inn he took his way;
And when that he came to this ox’s stall,
After his fellow he began to call.
The hostelére answered him anon,
And saidë, ‘Sir, your fellow is y-gone,
As soon as day he went out of the town.’
This man gan fallen in suspicioún,
Rememb’ring on his dreamës that he mette,4311
And forth he went, no longer would he let,4312
Unto the west gate of the town, and fand
A dung cart, as it went for to dung land,
That was arrayed in the samë wise
As ye have heard the deadë man devise;4313
And with an hardy heart he gan to cry,
‘Vengeance and justice of this felony:
My fellow murder’d in this samë night
And in this cart he lies, gaping upright.
I cry out on the ministers,’ quoth he.
‘That shouldë keep and rule this city;
Harow! alas! here lies my fellow slain.’
What should I more unto this talë sayn?
The people out start, and cast the cart to ground
And in the middle of the dung they found
The deadë man, that murder’d was all new.
O blissful God! that art so good and true,
Lo, how that thou bewray’st murder alway.
Murder will out, that see we day by day.
Murder is so wlatsom4314 and abominable
To God, that is so just and reasonable,
That he will not suffer it heled4315 be;
Though it abide a year, or two, or three,
Murder will out, this is my conclusioún,
And right anon, the ministers of the town
Have hent4316 the carter, and so sore him pined,4317
And eke the hostelére so sore engined,4318
That they beknew4319 their wickedness anon,
And werë hanged by the neckë bone.
“Here may ye see that dreamës be to dread.
And certes in the samë book I read,
Right in the nextë chapter after this
(I gabbë4320 not, so have I joy and bliss),
Two men that would have passed over sea,
For certain cause, into a far countrý,
If that the wind not haddë been contráry,
That made them in a city for to tarry,
That stood full merry upon an haven side;
But on a day, against the eventide,
The wind gan change, and blew right as them lest.4321
Jolly and glad they wentë to their rest,
And castë4322 them full early for to sail.
But to the one man fell a great marvail
That one of them, in sleeping as he lay,
He mette4323 a wondrous dream, against the day:
He thought a man stood by his beddë’s side,
And him commanded that he should abide;
And said him thus; ‘If thou to-morrow wend,4324
Thou shalt be drown’d; my tale is at an end.’
He woke, and told his follow what he mette,
And prayed him his voyage for to let;4325
As for that day, he pray’d him to abide.
His fellow, that lay by his beddë’s side,
Gan for to laugh, and scorned him full fast.
‘No dream,’ quoth he, ‘may so my heart aghast,4326
That I will lettë for to do my things.4327
I settë not a straw by thy dreamíngs,
For swevens4328 be but vanities and japes.4329
Men dream all day of owlës and of apes,
And eke of many a mazë4330 therewithal;
Men dream of thing that never was, nor shall.
But since I see, that thou wilt here abide,
And thus forslothë4331 wilfully thy tide,4332
God wot, it rueth me;4333 and have good day.’
And thus he took his leave, and went his way.
But, ere that he had half his coursë sail’d,
I know not why, nor what mischance it ail’d,
But casually4334 the ship’s bottom rent,
And ship and man under the water went,
In sight of other shippës there beside
That with him sailed at the samë tide.4335
“And therefore, fairë Partelote so dear,
By such examples oldë may’st thou lear,4336
That no man shouldë be too reckëless
Of dreamës, for I say thee doubtëless,
That many a dream full sore is for to dread.
Lo, in the life of Saint Kenelm4337 I read,
That was Kenulphus’ son, the noble king
Of Mercenrike,4338 how Kenelm mette a thing.
A little ere he was murder’d on a day,
His murder in his visión he say.4339
His norice4340 him expounded every deal4341
His sweven, and bade him to keep4342 him well
For treason; but he was but seven years old,
And therefore little talë hath he told4343
Of any dream, so holy was his heart.
By God, I haddë lever than my shirt
That ye had read his legend, as have I.
Dame Partelote, I say you truëly,
Macrobius, that wrote the visión
In Afric’ of the worthy Scipion,4344
Affirmeth dreamës, and saith that they be
‘Warnings of thingës that men after see.
And furthermore, I pray you lookë well
In the Old Testament, of Daniél,
If he held dreamës any vanity.
Read eke of Joseph, and there shall ye see
Whether dreams be sometimes (I say not all)
Warnings of thingës that shall after fall.
Look of Egypt the king, Dan Pharaóh,
His baker and
