It happ'd that, perching on the parlour-beam Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream, Just at the dawn; and sigh'd, and groan'd so fast, As every breath he drew would be his last. Dame Partlet, ever nearest to his side, Heard all his piteous moan, and how he cried For help from gods and men: and sore aghast She peck'd and pull'd, and waken'd him at last. 100 Dear heart, said she, for love of heaven declare Your pain, and make me partner in your care! You groan, sir, ever since the morning-light, As something had disturb'd your noble sprite. And, madam, well I might, said Chanticleer; Never was shrovetide cock in such a fear. Even still I run all over in a sweat, My princely senses not recover'd yet. For such a dream I had, of dire portent, That much I fear my body will be shent: 110 It bodes I shall have wars and woful strife, Or in a loathsome dungeon end my life. Know, dame, I dreamt within my troubled breast, That in our yard I saw a murderous beast, That on my body would have made arrest. With waking eyes I ne'er beheld his fellow; His colour was betwixt a red and yellow: Tipp'd was his tail, and both his pricking ears Were black; and much unlike his other hairs: The rest, in shape a beagle's whelp throughout, 120 With broader forehead, and a sharper snout: Deep in his front were sunk his glowing eyes, That yet, methinks, I see him with surprise. Reach out your hand, I drop with clammy sweat, And lay it to my heart, and feel it beat. Now fie, for shame, quoth she; by Heaven above, Thou hast for ever lost thy lady's love! No woman can endure a recreant knight, He must be bold by day, and free by night: Our sex desires a husband or a friend, 130 Who can our honour and his own defend. Wise, hardy, secret, liberal of his purse: A fool is nauseous, but a coward worse: No bragging coxcomb, yet no baffled knight. How darest thou talk of love, and darest not fight? How darest thou tell thy dame thou art affear'd? Hast thou no manly heart, and hast a beard?