Nay Romeus, nay, thou mayst of two thinges choose the one,
Either to see thy castaway, as soone as thou art gone,
Hedlong to throw her selfe downe from the windowes haight,
And so to breake her slender necke with all the bodies waight,
Or suffer her to be companion of thy payne,
Where so thou goe (Fortune thee gyde), tyll thou retoorne agayne.
So wholy into thine transformed is my hart,
That euen as oft as I do thinke that thou and I shall part,
So oft, (methinkes,) my life withdrawes it selfe awaye,
Which I retayne to no end els but to the end I may
In spite of all thy foes thy present partes enioye,
And in distres to beare with thee the half of thine annoye.
Wherfore, in humble sort, (Romeus,) I make request,
If euer tender pity yet were lodgde in gentle brest,
O, let it now haue place to rest within thy hart;
Receaue me as thy seruant, and the fellow of thy smart:
Thy absence is my death, thy sight shall geue me life.
But if perhaps thou stand in dred to leade me as a wyfe,
Art thou all counsellesse ? canst thou no shift deuise?
What letteth but in other weede I may my selfe disguyse?
What, shall I be the first? hath none done so ere this,
To scape the bondage of theyr frendes? thyselfe can aunswer,
Or dost thou stand in doute that I thy wyfe ne can
By seruice pleasure thee as much, as may thy hyred man?
Or is my loyalte of both accompted lesse ?
Perhaps thou fearst lest I for gayne forsake thee in distresse.
What! hath my bewty now no powre at all on you,
Whose brightnes, force, and praise, somtime vp to the skyes you
My teares, my friendship, and my pleasures donne of olde, Shall they be quite forgote in dede?" - when Romeus dyd
The wildnes of her looke, her cooler pale and ded,
The woorst of all that might betyde to her, he gan to dred;
And once agayne he dyd in armes his Juliet take,
And kist her with a louing kysse, and thus to her he spake :
Ah Juliet, (quoth he) the mistres of my hart,
For whom, (euen now,) thy seruant doth abyde in dedly smart,
Euen for the happy dayes which thou desyrest to see,
And for the feruent frendships sake that thou dost owe to me,
At once these fansies vayne out of thy mynd roote out,
Except, perhaps, vnto thy blame, thou fondly go about
To hasten forth my death, and to thine owne to ronne,
Which Natures law and wisdoms lore teach euery wight to
For, but thou chaunge thy mynde, (I do foretell the ende)
Thou shalt vndoo thyselfe for ay, and me thy trusty frende.
For why?-thy absence knowne, thy father wilbe wroth,
And in his rage so narowly he will pursue vs both,
That we shall trye in vayne to scape away by flight,
And uainely seeke a loorking place to hyde vs from his sight.
Then we, found out and caught, quite voyde of strong defence,
Shall cruelly be punished for thy departure hence;
I as a rauishor, thou as a careles childe,
I as a man that doth defile, thou as a mayde defilde;
Thinking to leade in ease a long contented life,
Shall short our dayes by shamefull death:--but (if, my louing
Thou banish from thy mynde two foes that counsell hath,
(That wont to hinder sound aduise) rash hastines and wrath;
If thou be bend to obay the lore of reasons skill,
And wisely by her princely powre suppresse rebelling will,
If thou our safetie seeke, more then thine own delight,
Since surety standes in parting, and thy pleasures growe of
Forbeare the cause of ioy, and suffer for a while,
So shall I safely liue abrode, and safe torne from exile:
So shall no slaunders blot thy spotles life destayne,
So shall thy kinsmen be vnstyrd, and I exempt from payne.
And thinke thou not, that aye the cause of care shall last;
These stormy broyles shall over-blow, much like a winters blast.
For Fortune chaungeth more then fickel fantasie;
In nothing Fortune constant is saue in vnconstancie.
Her hasty ronning wheele is of a restles coorse,
That turnes the clymers hedlong downe, from better to the
And those that are beneth she heaueth vp agayne:
So we shall rise to pleasures mount, out of the pit of payne.
Ere fowre monthes ouerpasse, such order will I take,
And by my letters and my frendes such meanes I mynd to make,
That of my wandring race ended shalbe the toyle,
And I cald home with honor great vnto my natiue soyle.
But if I be condemd to wander still in thrall,
I will returne to you, (mine owne,) befall what may befall.
And then by strength of frendes, and with a mighty hand,
From Verone will I cary thee into a forein lande;
Not in mans weede disguisd, or as one scarcely knowne,
But as my wife and only feere, in garment of thyne owne.
Wherfore represse at once the passions of thy hart,
And where there is no cause of greefe, cause hope to heale thy
For of this one thing thou mayst well assured bee,
That nothing els but onely death shall sunder me from thee.”
The reasons that he made did seeme of so great waight,
And had with her such force, that she to him gan aunswere
" Deere Syr, nought els wish I but to obay your will;
But sure where so you go, your hart with me shall tary still,
As signe and certaine pledge, tyll here I shall you see,
Of all the powre that ouer you yourselfe did graunt to me;
And in his stead take myne, the gage of my good will.-
One promesse craue I at your hand, that graunt me to fulfill;
Fayle not to let me haue, at fryer Lawrence hand,
The tydinges of your health, and how your doutfull casesh all
And all the wery while that you shall spend abrode,
Cause me from time to time to knowe the place of your abode."
His eyes did gushe out teares, a sigh brake from his brest,
When he did graunt and with an othe did vowe to kepe the
Thus these two louers passe away the wery night, In payne and plaint, not, (as they wont,) in pleasure and delight. But now, (somewhat too soone,) in farthest East arose Fayre Lucifer, the golden starre that Lady Venus chose; Whose course appoynted is with spedy race to ronne, A messenger of dawning daye, and of the rysing sonne. Then fresh Aurora with her pale and siluer glade Did cleare the skies, and from the earth had chased ougly shade. When thou ne lookest wide, ne closely dost thou winke, When Phœbus from our hemysphere in westerne waue doth sinke, What cooller then the heauens do shew vnto thine eyes, The same, (or like,) saw Romeus in farthest Esterne skyes. As yet he sawe no day, ne could he call it night, With equall force decreasing darke fought with increasing light. Then Romeus in armes his lady gan to folde,
With frendly kisse, and ruthfully she gan her knight beholde. With solemne othe they both theyr sorrowfull leave do take; They sweare no stormy troubles shall theyr steady friendship
Then carefull Romeus agayne to cell retoornes,
And in her chamber secretly our ioyles Juliet moornes.
Now hugy cloudes of care, of sorow, and of dread,
The clearnes of their gladsome harts hath wholy ouerspread.
When golden-crested Phœbus bosteth him in skye,
And vnder earth, to scape reuenge, his dedly foe doth fiye,
Then hath these louers day an ende, their night begonne,
For eche of them to other is as to the world the sunne.
The dawning they shall see, ne sommer any more,
But black-faced night with winter rough (ah!) beaten ouer sore.
The wery watch discharged did hye them home to slepe,
The warders, and the skowtes were chargde theyr place and
And Verone gates awyde the porters had set open.
When Romeus had of his affayres with frier Lawrence spoken, Warely he walked forth, vnknowne of frend or foe,
Clad like a merchant venterer, from top euen to the toe.
He spurd apace, and came, withouten stop or stay,
To Mantua gates, where lighted downe, he sent his man away
With woords of comfort to his old afflicted syre;
And straight, in mynde to soiourne there, a lodgeing doth he hyre, And with the nobler sort he doth himselfe acquaint,
And he of his open wrong receaued the duke doth heare his
He practiseth by frends for pardon of exyle;
The whilst, he seeketh euery way his sorowes to begyle.
But who forgets the cole that burneth in his brest?
Alas! his cares denye his hart the sweete desyred rest;
No time findes he of myrth, he findes no place of joye,
But euery thing occasion giues of sorow and annoye.
For when in toorning skies the heauens lampes are light,
And from the other hemysphere fayr Phœbus chaceth night,
When euery man and beast hath rest from painefull toyle,
Then in the brest of Romeus his passions gyn to boyle.
Then doth he wet with teares the cowche wheron he lyes,
And then his sighs the chamber fill, and out aloude he cries
Against the restles starres in rolling skyes that raunge,
Against the fatall sisters three, and Fortune full of chaunge.
Eche night a thousand times he calleth for the day,
He thinketh Titans restles stedes of restines do stay;
Or that at length they haue some bayting place found out,
Or, (gyded yll,) haue lost theyr way and wandered farre about.
Whyle thus in ydel thoughts the wery time he spendeth,
The night hath end, but not with night the plaint of night he
Is he accompanied? is he in place alone?
In cumpany he wayles his harme, apart he maketh mone:
For if his feeres reioyce, what cause hath he to ioy,
That wanteth still his cheefe delight, while they theyr loues en
But if with heauy cheere they shewe their inward greefe,
He wayleth most his wretchednes that is of wretches cheefe.
When he doth heare abrode the praise of ladies blowne,
Within his thought he scorneth them, and doth preferre his owne.
When pleasant songes he beares, wheile others do reioyce,
The melodye of Musike doth styrre vp his mourning voyce.
But if in secret place he walke some where alone,
The place itselfe and secretnes redoubleth all his mone.
Then speakes he to the beastes, to fethered fowles and trees,
Vnto the earth, the cloudes, and to what so beside he sees.
To them he sheweth his smart, as though they reason had,
Eche thing may cause his heauines, but nought may make him
And (wery of the day) agayne he calleth night,
The sunne he curseth, and the howre when fyrst his eyes saw
And as the night and day their course do enterchaunge,
So doth our Romeus nightly cares for cares of day exchaunge.
In absence of her knight the lady no way could
Kepe trewe betwene her greefes and her, though nere so fayne
And though with greater payne she cloked sorowes smart,
Yet did her paled face disclose the passions of her hart.
Her sighing euery howre, her weping euery where,
Her recheles heede of meate, of slepe, and wearing of her geare,
The carefull mother marks; then of her health afrayde,
Because the greefes increased still, thus to her child she sayde:
" Deere daughter if you shoulde long languishe in this sort,
I stand in doute that ouer-soone your sorowes will make short
Your louing father's life and myne, that loue you more
Than our owne propre breth and lyfe. Brydel henceforth ther
Your greefe and payne, yourselfe on ioy your thought to set,
For time it is that now you should our Tybalts death forget.
Of whom since God hath claymd the lyfe that was but lent,
He is in blisse, ne is there cause why you should thus lament;
You cannot call him backe with teares and shrikinges shrill:
It is a falt thus still to grudge at Gods appoynted will."
The seely soule had now no longer powre to fayne,
Ne longer could she hyde her harme, but aunswerd thus agayne,
With heauy broken sighes, with uisage pale and ded:
"Madame, the last of Tybalts teares a great while since I shed;
Whose spring hath been ere this so laded out by me,
That empty quite and moystureles I gesse it now to be.
So that my payned hart by conduites of the eyne
No more henceforth (as wont it was) shall gush forth dropping
The wofull mother knew not what her daughter ment,
And loth to vexe her childe by woordes, her peace she warely
|