But whileft he did decree this purpose still to kepe,
A contrary repugnant thought fanke in his breft fo depe,
That douteful is he now which of the twayne is beft.
In fyghs, in teares, in plainte, in care, in forow and unreft,
He mones the daye, he wakes the long and werey night;
So depe hath love, with pearcing hand, ygrav'd her bewty bright
Within his breit, and hath fo maftred quyte his hart,
That he of force must yelde as thrall;-no way is left to ftart.
He cannot staye his steppe, but forth ftyll must he ronne,
He languisheth and melts awaye, as fnowe agaynft the fonne.
His kyndred and alyes do wonder what he ayles,
And eche of them in frendly wyfe his heavy hap bewayles.
But one emong the reft, the truftieft of his feeres,
Farre more then he with counsel fild, and ryper of his yeeres,
Gan fharply him rebuke; fuch love to him he bare,
That he was fellow of his fmart, and partner of his care.
"What meanst thou Romeus, quoth he, what doting rage
Doth make thee thus confume away the best part of thine age,
In feking her that fcornes, and hydes her from thy fight,
Not forling all thy great expence, ne yet thy honor bright,
Thy teares, thy wretched lyfe, ne thine unipotted truth,
Which are of force, I weene, to move the hardest hart to ruthe?
Now, for our frendship's fake, and for thy health, I pray
That thou hencefoorth become thine owne;-O give no more away
Unto a thankles wight thy pretious free estate:
In that thou lovest fuch a one thou seemst thyself to hate.
For the doth love els where, and then thy time is lorne;
Or els (what booteth thee to fue?) Love's court the hath forfworne,
Both yong thou art of yeres, and high in Fortune's grace:
What man is better fhapd than thou? who hath a sweeter face?
By painfull ftudie's meane great learning hast thou wonne,
Thy parents have none other heyre, thou art theyr onely fonne.
What greater greefe, trowft thou, what woful dedly fmart,
Should fo be able to diftraine thy feely father's hart,
As in his age to fee thee plonged deepe in vice,
"When greatest hope he hath to heare thy vertue's fame arise?
What fhall thy kinsmen think, thou caufe of all their ruthe?
Thy dedly foes doe laugh to fkorne thy yll-employed youth.
Wherefore my counfell is, that thou henceforth beginne
To knowe and flye the errour which to long thou livedst in.
Remove the veale of love that kepes thine eyes fo blynde,
That thou ne canft the ready path of thy forefathers fynde.
But if unto thy will fo much in thrall thou art,
Yet in fome other place beftowe thy witles wandring hart.
Choose out fome woorthy dame, her honor thou, and ferve,
Who will give care to thy complaint, and pitty ere thou sterve.
But fow no more thy paynes in fuch a barraine foyle
As yelds in harvest time no crop, in recompence of toyle.
VOL. X. Ere long the townish dames together will resort,
Some one of beauty, favour, shape, and of fo lovely porte, ROM. AND With fo faft fixed eye perhaps thou mayft beholde,
That thou shalt quite forget thy love and paffions past of olde."
The yong man's liftning eare receiv'd the holfome founde, And reafon's truth y-planted fo, within his head had grounde; That now with healthy coole y-tempred is the heate,
And piece meale weares away the greefe that erft his heart did freate.
To his approved frend a folemne othe he plight,
At every feast y-kept by day, and banquet made by night,
At pardons in the churche, at games in open ftreate,
And every where he would refort where ladies wont to mete;
Eke fhould his favage heart like all indifferently,
For he would vew and judge them all with unallured eye.
How happy had he been, had he not been forfworne!
But twice as happy had he been, had he been never borne.
For ere the moone could thrife her wafted hornes renew,
False Fortune caft for him, poore wretch, a mischiefe newe to
The wery winter nightes restore the Christmas games,
And now the fefon doth invite to banquet townish dames.
And fyrft in Capel's houfe, the chiefe of all the kyn
Sparth for no coft, the wonted ufe of banquets to begin.
No lady fayre or fowle was in Verona towne,
No knight or gentelman of high or lowe renowne,
But Capilet himselfe hath byd unto his feast,
Or, by his name in paper fent, appointed as a geast.
Yong damfels thither flocke, of bachelers a rowte,
Not fo much for the banquet's fake, as bewties to ferche out.
But not a Montagew would enter at his gate,
(For, as you heard, the Capilets and they were at debate)
Save Romeus, and he in maske, with hydden face,
The fupper done, with other five did preafe into the place.
When they had mafkd a while with dames in courtly wife,
All did unmaske; the reft did fhew them to theyr ladies eyes;
But bafhfull Romeus with fhamefaft face forfooke
The open preafe, and him withdrew into the chamber's nooke.
But brighter than the funne the waxen torches fhone,
That, maugre what he could, he was efpyd of every one,
But of the women cheefe, theyr gafing eyes that threwe,
To woonder at his fightly fhape, and bewtie's fpotles hewe;
With which the heavens him had and nature fo bedect,
That ladies, thought the fayreft dames, were fowle in his refpect.
And in theyr head befyde an other woonder rose,
How he durft put himfelfe in throng among fo many foes:
Of courage floute they thought his cumming to procede,
And women love an hardy hart, as I in ftories rede,
The Capilets difdayne the prefence of theyr foe,
Yet they fuppreffe theyr ftyred yre; the caufe I doe not knowe: ROM. AND Perhaps toffend theyr geftes the courteous knights are loth; JULIET. Perhaps they stay from fharpe revenge, dreadyng the prince's
Perhaps for that they fhamd to exercise theyr rage
Within their house, gainst one alone, and him of tender age.
They ufe no taunting talke, ne harme him by theyr deede,
They neyther fay, what makft thou here, ne yet they fay, God
fpeede.
So that he freely might the ladies view at ease,
And they alfo behelding him their chaunge of fanfies please;
Which Nature had hym taught to doe with fuch a grace,
That there was none but joyed at his being there in place.
With upright beame he wayd the beauty of eche dame,
And judgd who best, and who next her, was wrought in na
ture's frame.
At length he faw a mayd, right fayre, of perfect shape,
(Which Thefeus or Paris would have chofen to their rape)
Whom erst he never fawe; of all the pleafde him moft;
Within himselfe he fayd to her, thou justly mayft thee bofte
Of perfet fhape's renowne and beautie's founding prayfe,
Whofe like ne hath, ne fhall be feene, ne liveth in our dayes.
And whilft he fixd on her his partiall perced eye,
His former love, for which of late he ready was to dye,
Is nowe as quite forgotte as it had never been:
The proverbe faith, unminded oft are they that are unfeene.
And as out of a planke a nayle a nayle doth drive,
So novel love out of the minde the auncient love doth rive.
This fodain kindled fyre in time is wox fo
That only death and both theyr blouds might quench the fiery
When Romeus faw himfelfe in this new tempeft toft,
Where both was hope of pleafant port, and daunger to be loft,
He doubtefull skafely knew what countenance to keepe;
In Lethie's floud his wonted flames were quenchd and drenched
deepe.
Yea he forgets himfelfe, ne is the wretch fo bolde
To afke her name that without force hath him in bondage folde;
Ne how tunloofe his bondes doth the poore foole devife,
But onely feeketh by her fight to feede his houngry eyes;
Through them he fwalloweth downe Love's sweete empoyfonde
How furely are the wareles wrapt by thofe that lye in wayte!
So is the poyfon fpred throughout his bones and vaines,
That in a while (alas the while) it hafteth deadly paines.
Whilft Juliet, for fo this gentle damfell hight,
From fyde fo fyde on every one dyd caft about her fight,
VOL. X. At laft her floting eyes were ancored fast on him,
Who for her fake dyd banish health and fredome from eche limme.
JULIET. He in her fight did feeme to paffe the reft, as farre
As Phoebus' fhining beames do paffe the brightnes of a starre,
In wayte laye warlike Love with golden bowe and fhaft,
And to his eare with steady hand the bowstring up he raft :
Till now the had escapde his sharpe inflaming darte,
Till now he lifted not affaulte her yong and tender hart.
His whetted arrow loofde, fo touchd her to the quicke,
That through the eye it strake the hart, and there the hedde did
fticke.
It booted not to strive. For why?-fhe wanted strength;
The weaker aye unto the ftrong, of force, muft yeld at length.
The pomps now of the feaft her heart gyns to defpyfe;
And onely joyeth whan her eyen meete with her lover's eyes.
When theyr new fmitten heartes had fed on loving gleames,
Whilft, paffing too and fro theyr eyes, y-mingled were theyr beames,
Eche of thefe lovers gan by other's lookes to knowe,
That frendship in theyr breft had roote, and both would have it
grow.
When thus in both theyr harts had Cupide made his breache, And eche of them had fought the meane to end the warre by fpeach,
Dame Fortune did affent, theyr purpose to advaunce.
With torche in hand a comely knight did fetch her foorth to daunce;
She quit herfelfe fo well and with fo trim a grace
That the the cheefe prayse wan that night from all Verona race :
The whilft our Romeus a place had warely wonne,
Nye to the feate where she must fit, the daunce once beyng donne,
Fayre Juliet tourned to her chayre with pleasant cheere,
And glad fhe was her Romeus approched was fo neere.
At thone fyde of her chayre her lover Romeo,
And on the other fyde there fat one cald Mercutio;
A courtier that eche where was highly had in price,
For he was coorteous of his fpeeche, and pleasant of devise.
Even as a lyon would emong the lambes be bolde,
the bashful maydes Mercutio to beholde.
With frendly gripe he ceasd fayre Juliet's fnowifh hand:
A gyft he had, that Nature gave him in his fwathing band,
That frofen mountayne yfe was never halfe so cold,
As were his handes, though nere fo neer the fire he did them
hold.
As foon as had the knight the virgin's right hand raught,
Within his trembling hand her left hath loving Romeus caught,
For he wift well himfelfe for her abode moft payne,
And well he wift she lovd him beft, unless she lift to fayne.
Then the with flender hand his tender palm hath preft;
What joy, trow you, was graffed fo in Romeus' cloven breft?
The fodayne fweete delight hath ftopped quite his tong,
Ne can he clame of her his right, ne crave redreffe of wrong.
But the efpyd ftraight waye, by chaunging of his hewe
From pale to red, from red to pale, and fo from pale anewe,
That vehment love was caufe why fo his tong did ftay,
And so much more she longd to heare what Love could teach him
faye.
When the had longed long, and he long held his peace,
And her defyre of hearing him by fylence did increase,
At laft, with trembling voyce and flamefast chere, the mayde
Unto her Romeus tournde her felfe, and thus to him fhe fayde :
"O bleffed be the time of thy arrivall here!—"
But ere fhe could fpeake forth the reft, to her Love drewe so nere,
And fo within her mouth her tongue he glewed fast,
That no one woord could fcape her more then what already paft.
In great contented eafe the yong man ftraight is rapt:
What chaunce (quoth he) unware to me, O lady mine, is hapt:
That geves you worthy cause my cumming here to bleffe?
Fayre Juliet was come agayne unto her felfe by this;
Fyrit ruthfully the lookd, then fayd with fmyling chere:
"Mervayle no whit, my hearte's delight, my only knight and
feere,
Mercutio's yfy hande had all to-frofen myne,
And of thy goodness thou agayne haft warmed it with thyne."
Whereto with ftayed brow gan Romeus replye:
"If fo the Gods have graunted me fuche favor from the skye,
That by my being here fome fervice I have donne
That pleafeth you, I am as glad as I a realme had wonne.
O wel-bestowed tyme that hath the happy hyre,
Which I woulde wish if I might have my wifhed hart's defire!
For I of God woulde crave, as pryfe of paynes forpait,
To ferve, obey and honor you, fo long as lyfe fhall last :
As proofe fhall teache you playne, if that you like to trye
His faltles truth, that nill for ought unto his lady lye.
But if my touched hand have warmed yours fome dele,
Affure your felfe the heate is colde which in your hand you
fele,
Compard to fuche quicke fparks and glowing furious gleade,
As from your bewtie's pleafant eyne Love caufed to proceade;
Which have fo fet on fyre eche feling parte of myne,
That lo! my mynde doeth melt awaye, my utward parts do pyne.
And, but you helpe all whole, to ashes shall I toorne ;
Wherefore, alas! have ruth on him, whom you do force to
boorne."
Even with his ended tale, the torches-daunce had ende,
And Juliet of force must part from her new-chosen frend.
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