THE

TRAGICALL HYSTORY

OF

ROMEUS AND JULIET.

CONTAYNING IN IT

A

RARE EXAMPLE OF TRUE CONSTANCIE;

WITH

THE SUBTILL COUNSELS AND PRACTICES OF AN

OLD FRYER; AND THEIR ILL EVENT.

"Res est solliciti plena timoris amor."

AMID the desert rockes the mountaine beare
Bringes forth unformd, unlyke herselfe, her yonge,
Nought els but lumpes of fleshe, withouten heare;
In tract of time, her often lycking tong

Geves them such shape, as doth, ere long, delight
The lookers on; or, when one dogge doth shake
With moosled mouth the joyntes too weake to fight,
Or, when upright he standeth by his stake,
(A noble creast!) or wylde in savage wood
A dosyn dogges one holdeth at a baye,
With gaping mouth and stayned jawes with blood;
Or els, when from the farthest heavens, they
The lode-starres are, the wery pilates marke,
In stormes to gyde to haven the tossed barke ;-
Right so my muse
Hath now, at length, with travell long, brought forth
Her tender whelpes, her divers kindes of style,
Such as they are, or nought, or little woorth,
Which carefull travell and a longer whyle
May better shape. The eldest of them loe
I offer to the stake; my youthfull woorke,
Which one reprochefull mouth might overthrowe:
The rest, unlickt as yet, a whyle shall lurke,

Tyll Tyme geve strength, to meete and match in fight,
With Slaunder's whelpes. Then shall they tell of stryfe,
Of noble trymphes, and deedes of martial might;
And shall geve rules of chast and honest lyfe.
The whyle, I pray, that ye with favour blame,
Or rather not reprove the laughing game

Of this my muse.

THE ARGUMENT.

LOVE hath inflamed twayne by sodayn sight,
And both do graunt the thing that both desyre;
They wed in shrift, by counsell of a frier;

Young Romeus clymes fayre Juliets bower by night.
Three monthes he doth enjoy his cheefe delight:
By Tybalt's rage provoked unto yre,

He payeth death to Tybalt for his hyre.

A banisht man, he scapes by secret flight:

New marriage is offred to his wyfe;

She drinkes a drinke that seemes to reve her breath;

They bury her, that sleping yet hath lyfe.

Her husband heares the tydinges of her death;

He drinkes his bane; and she, with Romeus' knyfe,
When she awakes, her selfe, alas! she sleath.

ROMEUS AND JULIET.*

THERE is beyond the Alps a towne of ancient fame, Where bright renoune yet shineth cleare, Verona men it name; Bylt in an happy time, bylt on a fertyle soyle,

Maynteined by the heavenly fates, and by the townish toyle.

* In a preliminary note on Romeo and Juliet I observed that it was founded on The Tragicall Hystory of Romeus and Juliet, printed in 1562. That piece being almost as rare as a manuscript, I reprinted it a few years ago, and shall give it a place here as a proper supplement to the commentaries on this tragedy.

From the following lines in An Epitaph on the Death of Maister Arthur Brooke drounde in passing to New-Haven, by George Tuberville, [Epitaphes, Epigrammes, &c. 1567,] we learn that the former was the author of this poem:

"Apollo lent him lute, for solace sake,

"To sound his verse by touch of stately string, "And of the never-fading baye did make

"A lawrell crowne, about his browes to cling.

"In proufe that he for myter did excell,

"As may be judge by Julyet and her mate;
"For there he shewde his cunning passing well,
"When he the tale to English did translate.
"But what? as he to forraigne realm was bound,

"With others moe his soveraigne queene to serve,
"Amid the seas unluckie youth was drownd,

"More speedie death than such one did deserve." The original relater of this story was Luigi da Porto, a gentleman of Vicenza, who died in 1529: His novel did not appear till some years after his death; being first printed at Venice, in octavo, in 1535, under the title of La Giulietta. In an epistle prefixed to this work, which is addressed Alla bellissima e leggiadra Madonna Lucina Savorgnana, the author gives the following account (probably a fictitious one) of the manner in which he became acquainted with this story:

"As you yourself have seen, when heaven had not as yet levelled against me its whole wrath, in the fair spring of my youth I devoted myself to the profession of arms, and, following therein many brave and valiant men, for some years I served in your delightful country, Frioli, through every part of which, in the course of my private service, it was my duty to roam. I was ever accustomed, when upon any expedition on horseback, to bring with me an archer of mine, whose name was Peregrino, a man about fifty years old, well practised in the military art, a pleasant com

The fruitefull hilles above, the pleasant vales belowe,

The silver streame with chanel depe, that through the town doth

flow;

The store of springes that serve for use, and eke for ease,
And other moe commodities, which profit may and please;
Eke many certayne signes of thinges betyde of olde,
To fyll the houngry eyes of those that curiously beholde;
Doe make this towne to be preferde above the rest

Of Lombard townes, or at the least, compared with the best.
In which whyle Escalus as prince alone did raygne,

To reache rewarde unto the good, to paye the lewde with payne,
Alas! I rewe to thinke, an heavy happe befell,

Which Boccace skant, not my rude tonge, were able foorth to tell.

panion, and, like almost all his countrymen of Verona, a great talker This man was not only a brave and experienced soldier, but of a gay and lively disposition, and, more perhaps than be. came his age, was for ever in love; a quality which gave a double value to his valour. Hence it was that he delighted in relating the most amusing novels, especially such as treated of love, and this he did with more grace and with better arrangement than any I have ever heard. It therefore chanced that, departing from Gradisca, where I was quartered, and, with this archer and two other of my servants, travelling, perhaps impelled by love, towards Udino, which route was then extremely solitary, and entirely ruined and burned up by the war,-wholly absorbed in thought, and riding at a distance from the others, this Peregrino drawing near me, as one who guessed my thoughts, thus addressed me: Will you then for ever live this melancholy life, because a cruel and disdainful fair one does not love you? though I now speak against myself, yet, since advice is easier to give than to follow, I must tell you, master of mine, that, besides its being disgraceful in a man of your profession to remain long in the chains of love, almost all the ends to which he conducts us are so replete with misery, that it is dangerous to follow him. And in testimony of what I say, if it so please you, I could relate a transaction that happened in my native city, the recounting of which will render the way less solitary and less disagreeable to us; and in this relation you would perceive how two noble lovers were conducted to a miserable and piteous death.'-And now, upon my making him a sign of my willingness to listen, he thus began."

The phrase, in the beginning of this passage, when heaven had not as yet levelled against me its whole wrath, will be best explained by some account of the author, extracted from Crescimbeni, Istoria della Volgar Poesia, T. V. p. 91: "Luigi da Porto, a Vicentine, was, in his youth, on account of his valour, made a leader in the Venetian army; but, fighting against the Germans in Friuli, was so wounded, that he remained for a time wholly disabled, and afterwards lame and weak during his life; on which account, quitting the profession of arms, he betook himself to letters," &c.

Malone.