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That frosen mountayne yse was never halfe so cold,
saye, When she had longed long, and he long held his peace, And her desyre of hearing him by sylence did increase, At last, with trembling voyce and shamefast chere, the mayde Unto her Romeus tournde her selfe, and thus to him she sayde:
" O blessed be the time of thy arrivall here !5, But ere she could speake forth the rest, to her love drewe so nere, And so within her mouth her tongue he glewed fast, That no one woord could scape her more then what already past In great contented ease the yong man straight is rapt: What chaunce (quoth he) unware to me, O lady mine, is hapt: That geves you worthy cause my cumming here to blesse? Fayre Juliet was come agayne unto her selfe by this; Fyrst ruthfully she look'd then say'd with smyling chere: “Mervayle no whit, my heartes delight, my only knight and feere, Mercutio's ysy hande had all to-frosen myne, And of thy goodness thou agayne hast warmed it with thyne." Whereto with stayed brow gan Romeus replye: “ If so the Gods have graunted me suche favor from the skye, That by my being here some service I have donne That pleaseth you, I am as glad as I a realme had wonne. O wel-bestowed tyme that bath the happy hyre, Which I woulde wish if I might have my wished harts' desire! For I of God woulde crave, as pryse of paynes forpast, To serve, obey, and honour you, so long as lyfe shall last: As proofe shall teache you playne, if that you like to trye His faltles truth, that nill for ought unto his ladye lye. But if my touched hand have warmed yours some dele, Assure yourselfe the heate is colde which in your hand you fele, Compard to suche quicke sparks and glowing furious gleade, As from your bewties pleasant eyne Love caused to proceade; Which have to set on fyre eche feling part of myne, That lo! my mynde doeth melt awaye, my utward parts do pyne. And, but you have 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 bad ende, And Juliet of force must part from her new.chosen frend.
His hand she clasped hard, and all her partes dyd shake,
game. And he reproveth love cheefe cause of his unrest, Who ease and freedome hath exilde out of his youthfull brest : Twise hath he made him serve, hopeles of his rewarde; Of both the ylles to choose the lesse, I weene, the choyse were
harde, Fyrst to a ruthles one he made him sue for grace, And now with spurre he forceth him to ronne an endles race. Amid these stormy seas one ancor doth him holde, He serveth not a cruell one, as he had done of olde ; And therefore is content and chooseth still to serve, Though hap should sweure that guerdonles the wretched wight
should sterve. The lot of Tantalus is, Romeus, like to thine; For want of foode, amid his foode, the myser still doth pyne.
As carefull was the mayde what way were best devise, To learne his name that intertaind her in so gentle wise ; Of whom her hart receivd so depe, so wýde, a wound. An ancient dame she calde to her, and in der eare gan rounde : (This old dame in her youth had nurst her with her mylke, With slender nedel taught her sow, and how to spyn with sylke.) What twayne are those, quoth she, which prease unto the doore, Whose pages in their hand do beare two torches light before? And then, as eche of them had of his houshold name, So she him namd.--Yet once again the young and wyly dame :“ And tell me who is he with vysor in his hand, That yonder dooth in masking weede besyde the window stand.” His name is Romeus, said shee, a Montagewe, Whose fathers pryde first styrd the stryfe which both your hous
holds rewe. The word of Montagew her joyes did overthrow, And straight instead of happy hope despayre began to growe.
What hap have I, quoth she, to love my fathers foe?
length So shall I seeke to find my fathers foe, his game; So (I defylde) Report shall take her trompe of blacke defame, Whence she with puffed cheeke shall blowe a blast so shrill Of my dispravse, that with the noyse Verona shall she fill. Then I, a laughing stocke through all the towne becomme, Shall hide my selfe, but not my shame, within an hollow toombe.” Straight underneath her foote she treadeth in the dust Her troblesome thought, as wholly vaine, y-bred of fond distrust. “No, no, by God above, I wot it well, quoth shee, Although I rashely spake before, in no wise can it bee,
That where such perfet shape with pleasant bewty restes,
Oh how we can perswade ourself to what we like! And how we can diswade our mynd, if ought our mind mislyke! Weake arguments are stronge, our fansies streight to frame To pleasing things, and eke to shonne, if we mislyke the same. The mayde had scarcely yet ended the wery warre, Kept in her heart by striving thoughts, when every shining starre Had payd his borrowed light, and Phæbus spred in skies His golden rayes, which seemd to say, now time it is to rise. And Romeus had by this forsaken his wery bed, Where restles he a thousand thoughts had forged in his hed. And while with lingring step by Juliets house he past, And upwards to her windowes high his greedy eyes did cast, His love that lookd for him there gan he straight espye. With pleasant cheere eche greeted is; she followeth with her eye His parting steppes, and he oft looketh backe againe, But not so oft as he desyres; warely he doth refrayne. What life were like to love, if dread of jeopardy Y-sowered not the sweete; if love were free from jelosy! But she more sure within, unseene of any wight, When so he comes, lookes after him till he be out of sight. In often passing so, his busy eyes he threw, That every pane and tooting hole the wily lover knew. In happy houre he doth a garden plot espye, From which, except he warely walke, men may his love descrye; For lo! it fronted full upon her leading place, Where she is wont to shew her heart by cheerefull frendly face. And lest the arbors might theyr secret love bewraye, He doth keepe backe his forward foote from passing there by daye;
But when on earth the Night her mantel blacke bath spred, -
weare. Of greater cause alway is greater woorke y-bred; While he nought douteth of her helth, she dreads lest he be ded. When onely absence is the cause of Romeus smart, By happy hope of sight againe he feedes his fainting hart. What wonder then if he were wrapt in lesse annoye? What marvel if by sodain sight she fed of greater joy? Ilis smaller greefe or joy no smaller love doo prove; Ne, for she passed him in both, did she him passe in love : But eche of inem alike dyd burne in equall flame, The wel-beloving knight and eke the wel-beloved dame. Now whilst with bitter teares her eyes as fountaines ronne, With whispering voice, y-broke with sobs, thus is her tale be
gonne : “Oh Romeus, of your life too lavas sure you are, That in this place, and at this tyme, to hazard' it you dare. What if your dedly foes, my kinsmen, saw you here? Lyke lyons wylde, your tender partes asonder would they teare. In ruth and in disdayne, I, wery of my life, With cruell hand my moorning hart would perce with bloudy
knyfe. For you, myne own, once dead, what joy should I have heare? And eke my honor staynd, which I thenly fe do holde more deare."
- Favre lady myne, dame Juliet, my lyfe (quod hee)