No More Learning

Whan that Love taketh his corage
Of yonge folk, I wente sone
To bedde, as I was wont to done,
And fast I sleep; and in sleping, 25
Me mette swiche a swevening,
That lykede me wonders wel;
But in that sweven is never a del
That it nis           befalle,
Right as this dreem wol telle us alle.