In the "Nonnes Preestes Tale," the ever-green Chaucer has argued the question, for and against, of the worth of dreams. His interlocutors are Chaunteclere and his favourite wife of seven, the "faire damoselle Pertelote." Rather strangely, it is the gentleman who advocates trust, and the lady who is contemptuously sceptical.

A poor widow with her two daughters lived in a little cottage near a grove, and amongst her easily-told live stock she counted the handsomest cock and the fairest hen in the country. Besides these, she possessed six other hens, sisters of the before-mentioned. The action of the poem takes place in the well-known time when birds and beasts could speak and sing; a time which, by external evidence, is seen to have been long posterior to the days of Boethius, or Launcelot of the Lake.

'It so befell, that in a dawening, As Chaunteclere among his wives alle Sate on his perche, that was in the halle, And next him sate his faire Pertelote, This Chaunteclere gan gronen in his throte, As man that in his dreme is dretchedl sore; And whan that Pertelote thus herd him rore, She was agast, and saide, "herte dere, What aileth you to grone in this manere? Ye ben a veray sleper, fy for shame."

'And he answered and sayde thus: "Madame, I pray you, that ye take it not agrefe: By God me mette, I was in swiche mischefe, Right now, that yet min herte is sore alright. Now God (quod he) my sweven recche aright,2 And kepe my body out of foule prisoun.

' "Me mette, how that I romed up and doun Within our yerde, wher as I saw a beste Was like an hound, and wold han made areste Upon my body, and han had me ded. His colour was betwix yelwe and red, And tipped was his tail, and both his eres With black, unlike the remenant of his heres.

(1) Troubled.

(2) Make my dream have a good issue.

His snout was smal, with glowing eyen twey, Yet for his loke almost for fere I dey; This caused me my groning douteles."

' "Avoy," quod she, "fy on you herteles.3 Alas!" quod she, "for by that God above, Now han ye lost myn herte and all my love; I cannot love a coward, by my faith, For certes, what so any woman saith, We all desiren, if it mighte be, To have an husbond hardy, wise and tree, And secre, and now niggard ne no fool, Ne him that is agast of every tool, Ne non avantour4 by that God above. Now dursten ye for shame say to your love, That any thing might maken you aferde? Han ye no mannes herte, and han a berde? Alas! and con ye ben agast of swevenis?5 Nothing but vanitee, God wote, in sweven is.

' "Swevenes6 engendren of repletions, And oft of fume, and of complexions,7 When humours ben to habundant in a wight. Certes this dreme, which ye han met to-night, Cometh of the grete superfluitee Of your rede colera parde, Which causeth folk to dreden in hir dremes Of arwes, and of fire with rede lemes8

(3) Faint-hearted. (4) Boaster.

(5) Dreaming. (6) Dreams.

(7) 'Hir dremes shul not now be told for me;

Full were hir hedes of fumositee,

That causeth dreme, of which ther is no charge.'

The Squiere's Tale. (8) Flames.

Of rede bestes, that they wol hem bite, Of conteke,9 and of waspes gret and lite; Right as the humour of melancolie Gauseth ful many a man in slepe to crie, For fere of holies, and of beres blake,10 Or elles that blake devils wol hem take.

' "Of other humours coud I telle also That werken many a man in slepe moch wo; But I wol passe, as lightly as I can.

' "Lo, Caton, which that was so wise a man, Said he not thus? Ne do no force11 of dremes.

' "Now, sire," quod she, "whan we flee fro the hemes. For Goddes love, as take som laxatif: Up peril of my soule, and of my lif, I conseil you the best, I wol not lie, That both of coler, and of melancolie Ye purge you; and for ye shul not tarie, Though in this toun be non apotecarie, I shal myself two herbes techen you, That shal be for your hele, and for your prow; And in our yerde, the herbes shall I finde, The which han of hir propretee by kinde To purgen you benethe, and eke above. Sire, forgete not this for Goddes love; Ye ben ful colerike of complexion; Ware that the sonne in his ascention Ne finde you not replete of humours hote: And if it do, I dare wel lay a grote, That ye shal han a fever tertiane, Or elles an ague, that may be your bane.

(9) Contention. (10) Bulls and black bears.

(11) Have no care.

A day or two ye shul han digestives

Of wormes, or ye take your laxatives,

Of laureole, centaurie, and fumetere,

Or piles of ellebor, that groweth there,

Of catapuce," or of gaitre-beries,"

Or herbe ive growing in our yerd, that mery14 is:

Picke hem right as they grow, and ete hem in.

Beth mery husbond, for your fader kin;

Dredeth no dreme; I can say you no more."

' "Madame," quod he, "grand mercy of your lore. But natheles, as touching dan Caton, That hath of wisdom swiche a gret renoun, Though that he bade no dremes for to drede, By God, men moun in olde bookes rate, Of many a man, more of auctoritee Than ever Caton was, so mote I the," That all the reversl6 sayn of bis sentence, And han wel founden by experience, That dremes ben significations As wel of joye as tribulations, That folk enduren in this lif present. Ther nedeth make of this non argument; The verey preve eheweth it indede."'

Chaunteclere here learnedly runs over the stock instances of antiquity as preserved by Cicero, Valerius Maximus, Macrobius, and others. He proceeds to state his inference: -

(12) A species of spurge. (13) Berries of the dogwood-tree. (14) Pleasant. (15) So may I thrive.

(16) The contrary, reverse.

' "And, therfore, faire Pertelote so dere, By swiche ensamples olde maist thou lere, That no man shulde be to reccheles Of dremes, for I say17 thee douteles, That many a dreme ful sore is for to drear."'

To heap satisfaction on satisfaction in the mind of Pertelote, Chaunteclere goes to monkish, then to Biblical dreams, and the dreams of classical fiction. Having commenced the story of Andromache's dream, he breaks off: -

' "But thilke tale is al to long to telle, And eke it is nigh day, I may not dwelle. Shortly I say, as for conclusion, That I shal han of this avision Adversitee: and I say forthermore, That I ne tell of laxatives no store, For they ben venimous, I wot it wel: I hem deme, I love hem never a del.

' "But let us speke of mirthe, and stinte all this; Madame Pertelote, so have I blis, Of o thing God hath sent me large grace, For whan I see the beautee of your face, Ye ben so scarlet red about your eyen, It maketh all my drede for to dien, For, all so siker as In principio, Mulier est hominum eonfusio. (Madame, the sentence of this Latin is, Woman is mannes joye and marines blis). For when I fele a-night your softe side I am so ful of joye and eke of pride,

(17) Tell.

That I deffie both sweven and dreme."

'And with that word he flew doun fro the be: For it was day, and eke his hennes alle; And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle, For he had found a corn, lay in the, yerd.

Real18 he was, he was no more aferd.

* * * * *

'But sodenly him fell a sorweful cas; For ever the latter ende of joye is wo: God wote that worldly joye is sone ago: And if a rethor conde faire endite, He in a chronicle might it saufly write, As for a soveraine notabilitee.

'Now every wise man let him herken me: This story is al so trewe, I undertake, As is the booke of Launcelot du lake, That women holde in ful gret reverence, Now wol I turne agen to my sentence.

'A col fox, ful of sleigh iniquitee, That in the grove had wonned yeres three, By high imagination forecast, The same night thurghout the hegges brast19 Into the yerd, ther Chaunteclere the faire Was wont, and eke his wives, to repaire: And in a bedde of wortes stille he lay, Till it was passed undern20 of the day, Waiting his time on Chaunteclere to falle: As gladly don thise homicides alle, That in await liggen to mordre men.

'O false morderour, rucking in thy den; O newe Scariot, newe Genelon! O false dissimulour; O Greek Sinon.

(18) Royal. (19) Burst.

(20) The third hour, nine o'clock.

That broughtest Troye al utterly to sorwe! O Chaunteclere, accursed be the morne, That thou into thy yerd flew fro the bemes: Thou were ful wel ywarned by thy dremes, That thilke day was perilous to thee. But what that God foremote21 most nodes be, After the opinion of certain clerkes.'

In the course of his foraging Chaunteclere espies the fox, and all his pride at once vanishes with his courage. The fox, however, wishing to take him at a disadvantage, flatters him so successfully as to prevail upon him to sing.

'This Chaunteclere his winges gan to bete, As man that coud not his treson espie, So was he ravished with his flaterie.

'Alas, ye lordes! many a false flatour Is in your courts, and many a losengeour,22 That pleseth you wel more, by my faith, Than he that sothfastnesse23 unto you saith. Redeth Ecclesiast of flaterie, Beth ware, ye lordes, of hire trecherie.

'This Chaunteclere stood high upon his toos, Stretching his necke, and held his eyen cloos, And gan to crowen loude for the nones: And dan Russel,24 the fox, stert up at ones, And by the garget hente 25 Chaunteclere, And on his back toward the wood him bere,

(21) Foreknew, predestined.

(22) Flatterer. (23) The plain truth.

(24) So called from his red colour.

(25) Seized by the gorget, or throat.

For yet ne was ther no man that him sued. 'O destinee, that maist not ben eschued! Alas, that Chaunteclere flew fro the bemes! Alas, his wif ne raughte not of dremes! And on a Friday fell all this meschance.'

The widow and her two daughters, and her neighbours, joined to chase "dan Russel" for the recovery of Chaunteclere, who happily escaped by a stratagem in which he successfully used against the fox the very weapon of flattery which had been so nearly fatally employed against himself. The next time Chaunteclere was favoured with a dream of forewarning, he would probably act more upon his own pious judgment, and less upon the unfeminine incredulity of Dame Pertelote. - Canterbury Tales.

A son's greatness foretold.