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Chapter 14 Panurge's dream, with the interpretation thereof

  • At seven o'clock of the next following morning Panurge did not fail to presen_imself before Pantagruel, in whose chamber were at that time Epistemon, Fria_ohn of the Funnels, Ponocrates, Eudemon, Carpalin, and others, to whom, a_he entry of Panurge, Pantagruel said, Lo! here cometh our dreamer. That word,
  • quoth Epistemon, in ancient times cost very much, and was dearly sold to th_hildren of Jacob. Then said Panurge, I have been plunged into my dumps s_eeply, as if I had been lodged with Gaffer Noddy-cap. Dreamed indeed I have,
  • and that right lustily; but I could take along with me no more thereof that _id goodly understand save only that I in my vision had a pretty, fair, young,
  • gallant, handsome woman, who no less lovingly and kindly treated an_ntertained me, hugged, cherished, cockered, dandled, and made much of me, a_f I had been another neat dilly-darling minion, like Adonis. Never was ma_ore glad than I was then; my joy at that time was incomparable. She flattere_e, tickled me, stroked me, groped me, frizzled me, curled me, kissed me,
  • embraced me, laid her hands about my neck, and now and then made jestingl_retty little horns above my forehead. I told her in the like disport, as _id play the fool with her, that she should rather place and fix them in _ittle below mine eyes, that I might see the better what I should stick a_ith them; for, being so situated, Momus then would find no fault therewith,
  • as he did once with the position of the horns of bulls. The wanton, toyin_irl, notwithstanding any remonstrance of mine to the contrary, did alway_rive and thrust them further in; yet thereby, which to me seemed wonderful,
  • she did not do me any hurt at all. A little after, though I know not how, _hought I was transformed into a tabor, and she into a chough.
  • My sleeping there being interrupted, I awaked in a start, angry, displeased,
  • perplexed, chafing, and very wroth. There have you a large platterful o_reams, make thereupon good cheer, and, if you please, spare not to interpre_hem according to the understanding which you may have in them. Come,
  • Carpalin, let us to breakfast. To my sense and meaning, quoth Pantagruel, if _ave skill or knowledge in the art of divination by dreams, your wife will no_eally, and to the outward appearance of the world, plant or set horns, an_tick them fast in your forehead, after a visible manner, as satyrs use t_ear and carry them; but she will be so far from preserving herself loyal i_he discharge and observance of a conjugal duty, that, on the contrary, sh_ill violate her plighted faith, break her marriage-oath, infringe al_atrimonial ties, prostitute her body to the dalliance of other men, and s_ake you a cuckold. This point is clearly and manifestly explained an_xpounded by Artemidorus just as I have related it. Nor will there be an_etamorphosis or transmutation made of you into a drum or tabor, but you wil_urely be as soundly beaten as ever was tabor at a merry wedding. Nor yet wil_he be changed into a chough, but will steal from you, chiefly in the night,
  • as is the nature of that thievish bird. Hereby may you perceive your dreams t_e in every jot conform and agreeable to the Virgilian lots. A cuckold yo_ill be, beaten and robbed. Then cried out Father John with a loud voice, H_ells the truth; upon my conscience, thou wilt be a cuckold—an honest one, _arrant thee. O the brave horns that will be borne by thee! Ha, ha, ha! Ou_ood Master de Cornibus. God save thee, and shield thee! Wilt thou be please_o preach but two words of a sermon to us, and I will go through the paris_hurch to gather up alms for the poor.
  • You are, quoth Panurge, very far mistaken in your interpretation; for th_atter is quite contrary to your sense thereof. My dream presageth that _hall by marriage be stored with plenty of all manner of goods—the hornifyin_f me showing that I will possess a cornucopia, that Amalthaean horn which i_alled the horn of abundance, whereof the fruition did still portend th_ealth of the enjoyer. You possibly will say that they are rather like to b_atyr's horns; for you of these did make some mention. Amen, Amen, Fiat,
  • fiatur, ad differentiam papae. Thus shall I have my touch-her-home stil_eady. My staff of love, sempiternally in a good case, will, satyr-like, b_ever toiled out—a thing which all men wish for, and send up their prayers t_hat purpose, but such a thing as nevertheless is granted but to a few. Henc_oth it follow by a consequence as clear as the sunbeams that I will never b_n the danger of being made a cuckold, for the defect hereof is Causa sine qu_on; yea, the sole cause, as many think, of making husbands cuckolds. Wha_akes poor scoundrel rogues to beg, I pray you? Is it not because they hav_ot enough at home wherewith to fill their bellies and their pokes? What is i_akes the wolves to leave the woods? Is it not the want of flesh meat? Wha_aketh women whores? You understand me well enough. And herein may I very wel_ubmit my opinion to the judgment of learned lawyers, presidents, counsellors,
  • advocates, procurers, attorneys, and other glossers and commentators on th_enerable rubric, De frigidis et maleficiatis. You are, in truth, sir, as i_eems to me (excuse my boldness if I have transgressed), in a most palpabl_nd absurd error to attribute my horns to cuckoldry. Diana wears them on he_ead after the manner of a crescent. Is she a cucquean for that? How the devi_an she be cuckolded who never yet was married? Speak somewhat more correctly,
  • I beseech you, lest she, being offended, furnish you with a pair of horn_hapen by the pattern of those which she made for Actaeon. The goodly Bacchu_lso carries horns, —Pan, Jupiter Ammon, with a great many others. Are the_ll cuckolds? If Jove be a cuckold, Juno is a whore. This follows by th_igure metalepsis: as to call a child, in the presence of his father an_other, a bastard, or whore's son, is tacitly and underboard no less than i_e had said openly the father is a cuckold and his wife a punk. Let ou_iscourse come nearer to the purpose. The horns that my wife did make me ar_orns of abundance, planted and grafted in my head for the increase an_hooting up of all good things. This will I affirm for truth, upon my word,
  • and pawn my faith and credit both upon it. As for the rest, I will be no les_oyful, frolic, glad, cheerful, merry, jolly, and gamesome, than a well-bende_abor in the hands of a good drummer at a nuptial feast, still making a noise,
  • still rolling, still buzzing and cracking. Believe me, sir, in that consistet_one of my least good fortunes. And my wife will be jocund, feat, compt, neat,
  • quaint, dainty, trim, tricked up, brisk, smirk, and smug, even as a prett_ittle Cornish chough. Who will not believe this, let hell or the gallows b_he burden of his Christmas carol.
  • I remark, quoth Pantagruel, the last point or particle which you did speak of,
  • and, having seriously conferred it with the first, find that at the beginnin_ou were delighted with the sweetness of your dream; but in the end and fina_losure of it you startingly awaked, and on a sudden were forthwith vexed i_holer and annoyed. Yea, quoth Panurge, the reason of that was because I ha_asted too long. Flatter not yourself, quoth Pantagruel; all will go to ruin.
  • Know for a certain truth, that every sleep that endeth with a starting, an_eaves the person irksome, grieved, and fretting, doth either signify _resent evil, or otherwise presageth and portendeth a future imminent mishap.
  • To signify an evil, that is to say, to show some sickness hardly curable, _ind of pestilentious or malignant boil, botch, or sore, lying and lurkin_id, occult, and latent within the very centre of the body, which many time_oth by the means of sleep, whose nature is to reinforce and strengthen th_aculty and virtue of concoction, being according to the theorems of physic t_eclare itself, and moves toward the outward superficies. At this sad stirrin_s the sleeper's rest and ease disturbed and broken, whereof the first feelin_nd stinging smart admonisheth that he must patiently endure great pain an_rouble, and thereunto provide some remedy; as when we say proverbially, t_ncense hornets, to move a stinking puddle, and to awake a sleeping lion,
  • instead of these more usual expressions, and of a more familiar and plai_eaning, to provoke angry persons, to make a thing the worse by meddling wit_t, and to irritate a testy choleric man when he is at quiet. On the othe_art, to presage or foretell an evil, especially in what concerneth th_xploits of the soul in matter of somnial divinations, is as much to say a_hat it giveth us to understand that some dismal fortune or mischance i_estinated and prepared for us, which shortly will not fail to come to pass. _lear and evident example hereof is to be found in the dream and dreadfu_waking of Hecuba, as likewise in that of Eurydice, the wife of Orpheus,
  • neither of which was (no) sooner finished, saith Ennius, but tha_ncontinently thereafter they awaked in a start, and were affrighted horribly.
  • Thereupon these accidents ensued: Hecuba had her husband Priamus, togethe_ith her children, slain before her eyes, and saw then the destruction of he_ountry; and Eurydice died speedily thereafter in a most miserable manner.
  • Aeneas, dreaming that he spoke to Hector a little after his decease, did on _udden in a great start awake, and was afraid. Now hereupon did follow thi_vent: Troy that same night was spoiled, sacked, and burnt. At another tim_he same Aeneas dreaming that he saw his familiar geniuses and penates, in _hastly fright and astonishment awaked, of which terror and amazement th_ssue was, that the very next day subsequent, by a most horrible tempest o_he sea, he was like to have perished and been cast away. Moreover, Turnu_eing prompted, instigated, and stirred up by the fantastic vision of a_nfernal fury to enter into a bloody war against Aeneas, awaked in a star_uch troubled and disquieted in spirit; in sequel whereof, after many notabl_nd famous routs, defeats, and discomfitures in open field, he came at last t_e killed in a single combat by the said Aeneas. A thousand other instances _ould afford, if it were needful, of this matter. Whilst I relate thes_tories of Aeneas, remark the saying of Fabius Pictor, who faithfully averre_hat nothing had at any time befallen unto, was done, or enterprised by him,
  • whereof he preallably had not notice, and beforehand foreseen it to the full,
  • by sure predictions altogether founded on the oracles of somnial divination.
  • To this there is no want of pregnant reasons, no more than of examples. For i_epose and rest in sleeping be a special gift and favour of the gods, as i_aintained by the philosophers, and by the poet attested in these lines,
  • {verse
  • Then sleep, that heavenly gift, came to refresh
  • Of human labourers the wearied flesh;
  • {verse
  • such a gift or benefit can never finish or terminate in wrath and indignatio_ithout portending some unlucky fate and most disastrous fortune to ensue.
  • Otherwise it were a molestation, and not an ease; a scourge, and not a gift;
  • at least, (not) proceeding from the gods above, but from the infernal devil_ur enemies, according to the common vulgar saying.
  • Suppose the lord, father, or master of a family, sitting at a very sumptuou_inner, furnished with all manner of good cheer, and having at his entry t_he table his appetite sharp set upon his victuals, whereof there was grea_lenty, should be seen rise in a start, and on a sudden fling out of hi_hair, abandoning his meat, frighted, appalled, and in a horrid terror, wh_hould not know the cause hereof would wonder, and be astonished exceedingly.
  • But what? he heard his male servants cry, Fire, fire, fire, fire! his serving-
  • maids and women yell, Stop thief, stop thief! and all his children shout a_oud as ever they could, Murder, O murder, murder! Then was it not high tim_or him to leave his banqueting, for application of a remedy in haste, and t_ive speedy order for succouring of his distressed household? Truly I remembe_hat the Cabalists and Massorets, interpreters of the sacred Scriptures, i_reating how with verity one might judge of evangelical apparitions (becaus_ftentimes the angel of Satan is disguised and transfigured into an angel o_ight), said that the difference of these two mainly did consist in this: th_avourable and comforting angel useth in his appearing unto man at first t_errify and hugely affright him, but in the end he bringeth consolation,
  • leaveth the person who hath seen him joyful, well-pleased, fully content, an_atisfied; on the other side, the angel of perdition, that wicked, devilish,
  • and malignant spirit, at his appearance unto any person in the beginnin_heereth up the heart of his beholder, but at last forsakes him, and leave_im troubled, angry, and perplexed.