And in his house he found his maister Romeus,

Where he, besprent with many teares, began to speake him

thus:

"Syr, unto you of late is chaunced so great a harme,

That sure, except with constancy you seeke yourselfe to arme,
I feare that straight you will breathe out your latter breath,
And I, most wretched wight, shall be thoccasion of your death.
Know syr, that yesterday, my lady and your wife,

I wot not by what sodain greefe, hath made exchaunge of life;
And for because on earth she found nought but unrest,
In heaven hath she sought to fynde a place of quiet rest;
And with these weping eyes my selfe have seene her layde.
Within the tombe of Capiiets:"-and herewithall he stayde.
This sodayne message sounde, sent forth with sighes and teares,
Our Romeus receaved too soone with open listening eares;
And therby hath sonke such sorow in his hart,

That loe, his sprite annoyed sore with torment and with smart,
Was like to break out of his prison-house perforce,

And that he might flye after hers, would leave the massy corce:
But earnest love that will not fayle him till his ende,

This fond and sodain fantasy into his head dyd sende;
That if nere unto her he offred up his breath,

That then an hundred thousand parts more glorious were his death:

Eke should his painfull hart a great deale more be eased,
And more also, he vainely thought, his lady better pleased.
Wherefore when he his face hath washt with water cleane,
Lest that the staynes of dryed teares might on his cheekes be

seene,

And so his sorow should of every one be spyde,

Which he with all his care did seeke from every one to hyde,
Straight, wery of the house, he walketh forth abrode;

His servant, at the masters hest, in chaumber still abode:
And then fro streate to streate he wandreth up and downe,

To see if he in any place may fynde, in all the towne,

A salve meet for his sore, an oyle fit for his wounde;

And seeking long, alac too soone! the thing he sought, he founde. An apothecary sate unbusied at his doore,

Whom by his heavy countenance he gessed to be poore.

And in his shop he saw his boxes were but few,

And in his window of his wares there was so small a shew;
Wherefore our Romeus assuredly hath thought,

What by no friendship could be got, with money could be bought
For nedy lacke is like the poor man to compell

To sell that which the cities lawe forbiddeth him to sell.
Then by the hand he drew the nedy man apart,

And with the sight of glittering gold inflamed hath his hart:
"Take fiftie crownes of gold (quoth he) I geve them thee,
So that, before I part from hence, thou straight deliver me
Somme poyson strong, that may in lesse than halfe an howre
Kill him whose wretched hap shall be the potion to devowre.”
VOL. XII.

Qq

The wretch by covetise is wonne, and doth assent

To sell the thing, whose sale ere long, too late, he doth repent. In haste he poyson sought, and closely he it bounde,

And then began with whispering voyce thus in his eare to rounde:

"Fayr syr, quoth he, be sure this is the speding gere,

And more there is than you shall nede; for halfe of that is there Will serve, I undertake, in lesse than halfe an howre

To kill the strongest man alive; such is the poysons power."
Then Romeus, somwhat easd of one part of his care,
Within his bosome putteth up his dere unthrifty ware.
Retoorning home agayne, he sent his man away,

To Verone towne, and chargeth him that he, without delay,
Provyde both instruments to open wide the toombe,

And lightes to shew him Juliet; and stay, till he shall commę,
Nere to the place whereas his loving wife doth rest,

And chargeth him not to bewray the dolours of his brest.
Peter, these heard, his leave doth of his master take;

Betimes he commes to towne, such hast the painfull man dy¶l make:

And then with busy care he seeketh to fulfill,

But doth disclose unto no wight his wofull masters will.
Would God, he had herein broken his masters hest!

Would God, that to the frier he had disclosed all his brest!
But Romeus the while with many a dedly thought

Provoked much, hath caused inke and paper to be brought,
And in few lines he did of all his love dyscoorse,
How by the friers helpe, and by the knowledge of the noorse,
The wedlocke knot was knit, and by what meane that night
And many moe he did enjoy his happy harts delight;
Where he the poyson bought, and how his lyfe should ende:
And so his waile full tragedy the wretched man hath pend.
The letters closd and seald, directed to his syre,

He locketh in his purse, and then a post-hors doth he hyre.
When he approched nere, he warely lighted downe,
And even with the shade of night he entred Verone towne;
Where he hath found his man, wayting when he should comme,
With lanterne, and with instruments to open Juliets toomme.
Helpe Peter, helpe, quod he, helpe to remove the stone,
And straight when I am gone fro thee, my Juliet to bemone,
See that thou get thee hence, and on the payne of death
1 cbarge thee that thou comme not nere while I abyde beneath,
Ne seeke thou not to let thy masters enterprise,
Which he hath fully purposed to doe, in any wise.
Take there a letter, which, as soon as he shall ryse,
Present it in the morning to my loving fathers eyes;
Which unto him perhaps farre pleasanter shall seeme,

Than eyther I do mynd to say, or thy grose head can deeme.
Now Peter, that knew not the purpose of his hart,
Obediently a little way withdrewe himselfe apart;
And then our Romeus, the vault stone set up upright,
Descended downe, and in his hand he bare the candle light.

And then with piteous eye the body of his wyfe

He gan behold, who surely was the organ of his lyfe;
For whom unhappy now he is, but erst was blyst;

He watred her with teares, and then a hundred times her kyst;
And in his folded armes full straightly he her plight,

But no way could his greedy eyes be filled with her sight:
His fearfull handes he layde upon her stomach colde,
And them on diverse parts besyde the wofull wight did hold.
But when he could not fynd the signes of lyfe he sought,
Out of his cursed box he drewe the poyson that he bought;
Whereof he gredely devowrde the greater part,

And then he cryde, with dedly sigh fetcht from his mourning hart

"Oh Juliet, of whom the world unworthy was,

From which, for worldes unworthines thy worthy gost did passe,
What death more pleasant could my hart wish to abyde
Then that which here it suffreth now, so nere thy frendly syde?
Or els so glorious tombe how could my youth have craved,
As in one selfe same vaulte with thee haply to be ingraved ?
What epitaph more worth, or halfe so excellent,

To consecrate my memorye, could any man invent,

As this our mutual and our piteous sacrifice

Of lyfe, set light for love?"-but while he talketh in this wise,
And thought as yet a while his dolours to enforce,

His tender hart began to faynt, prest with the venoms force;
Which little and little gan to overcomme his hart,

And whilst his busy eyae he threwe about to every part,
He saw, hard by the corce of sleping Juliet,

Bold Tybalts carkas dead, which was not all consumed yet.
To whom, as having life, in this sort speaketh he:

"Ah cosin dere, Tybalt, where so thy restles sprite now be,
With stretched handes to thee for mercy now I crye,
For that before thy kindly howre I forced thee to dye.
But if with quenched lyfe not quenched be thine yre,
But with revengeing lust as yet thy hart be set on fyre,
What more amendes, or cruell wreake desyrest thou

To see on me, then this which here is shewd forth to thee now?
Who reft by force of armes from thee thy loving breath,
The same with his owne hand, thou seest, dost poyson himselfe
to death.

And for he caused thee in tombe too soone to lye

Too soone also, yonger then thou, himselfe he layeth by."
These sayd, when he gan feele the poysons force prevayle,
And little and little mastred lyfe for aye began to fayle,
Kneeling upon his knees, he said with voyce full lowe,-
"Lord Christ, that so to raunsome me descendedst long agoe
Out of thy fathers bosome, and in the virgins wombe
Didst put on fleshe, oh let my plaint out of this hollow toombe,
Perce through the ayre, and graunt my sute may favour finde;
Take pity on my sinneful and my poore affected mynde!
For well enough I know, this body is but clay,

Nought but a masse of sinne, to frayle, and subject to decay."

Then pressed with extreme greefe he threw with so great force
His overpressed parts upon his ladies wayled corse,

That now his weakened hart, weakened with tormentes past,
Unable to abyde this pang, the sharpest and the last,
Remayned quite deprived of sense and kindly strength,
And so the long imprisoned soule hath freedome wonne at length.
Ah cruell death, too soone, too soone was this devorce,

Twixt youthfull Romeus heavenly sprite, and his fayre earthy

corse.

The fryer that knew what time the powder had been taken,
Knew eke the very instant when the sleper should awaken;
But wondring that he could no kinde of aunswer heare,
Of letters which to Romeus his fellow fryer did beare,
Out of Saint Frauncis church hymselfe alone dyd fare,
And for the opening of the tombe meete instrumentes he bare.
Approching nigh the place, and seeing there the light,
Great horror felt he in his hart, by straunge and sodaine sight;
Till Peter, Romeus man, his coward hart made bolde,
When of his masters being there the certain newes he tolde:
"There hath he been, quoth he, this halfe howre at the least,
And in this time, I dare well say, his plaint hath still increast."
Then both they entered in, where they alas! dyd fynde
The bretheles corps of Romeus, forsaken of the mynde;
Where they have made such mone, as they may best conceve,
That have with perfect frendship loved, whose frend feerce death
dyd reve.

But whilst with piteous playnt they Romeus fate bewepe,
An howre too late fayre Juliet awaked out of slepe;*

*In the original Italian Novel Juliet awakes from her trance before the death of Romeo. Shakspeare has been arraigned for departing from it, and losing so happy an opportunity of introducing an affecting scene. He was misled, we see, by the piece now before us. The curious reader may perhaps not be displeased to compare the conclusion of this celebrated story as it stands in the Giulietta of Luigi da Porto, with the present poem. It is as follows:

"So favourable was fortune to this his last purpose, that on the evening of the day subsequent to the lady's funeral, undiscovered by any, he entered Verona, and there awaited the coming of night; and now perceiving that all was silent, he betook himself to the monastery of the Minor Friars, where was the vault. The church, where these monks then dwelt, was in the citadel, though since, for what reason I know not, they have transferred their habitation to the Borgo di S. Zeno, in that place which is now called Santo Bernardino; yet is it certain that their former mansion had been inhabited by Saint Francis himself. Near the walls of this church, on the outside, were at that time certain buildings, such as we usually see adjoining to churches, one of which was the ancient sepulcher of the Capelletti family, and in this the fair damsel had been deposited. At this place, about four hours after mid.

And much amasde to see in tombe so great a light,
She wist not if she saw a dreame, or sprite that walkd by night.

night, Romeo being arrived, and having, as a man of superior strength, by force raised the stone which covered the vault, and, with certain wedges, which he had brought with him for that purpose, having so prop'd it that it could not be fastened down contrary to his desire, he entered, and reclosed the entrance.

"The unhappy youth, that he might behold his lady, had brought with him a dark lantern, which, after closing the vault, he drew forth, and opened; and there, amidst the bones and fragments of many dead bodies, he beheld the fair Julietta lying as if dead. Whence suddenly breaking out into a flood of tears, he thus began: O eyes, which, while it pleased the Heavens, were to my eyes the brightest lights! O lips, by me a thousand times So sweetly kissed, and from whence were heard the words of wisdom! O beauteous breast, in which my heart rejoiced to dwell where do I now find you, blind, mute, and cold? how without you do I see, do I speak, do I live? Alas, my miserable lady, whither hast thou been conducted by that love, whose will it now is that this narrow space shall both destroy and lodge two wretched lovers! Ah me! an end like this my hope promised not, nor that desire which first inflamed me with love for you! O unfortunate life, why do I support you? and so saying, he covered with kisses her eyes, her lips, her breast, bursting every instant into more abundant lamentation; in the midst of which he cried, O, ye walls, which hang over me, why do you not render my life still more short by crushing me in your ruin? But since death is at all times in our power, it is dastardly to desire it, and not to snatch it: and, with these words, he drew forth from his sleeve the vial of deadly poison, which he had there concealed, and thus proceeded: I know not what destiny conducts me to die in the midst of my enemies, of those by me slain, and in their sepulcher; but since, O my soul, thus near my love it delights us to die, here let us die! and, approaching to his lips the mortal draught, he received it entire into his bosom; when embracing the beloved maid, and strongly straining her to his breast, he cried,-O thou beauteous body, the utmost limit of all my desires, if, after the soul is departed, any sentiment yet remains in you, or, if that soul now beholds my cruel fate, let it not be displeasing to you, that, unable to live with you joyfully and openly, at the least I should die with you sadly and secretly;-and holding the body straitly embraced, he awaited death.

"The hour was now arrived, when by the natural heat of the damsel the cold and powerful effects of the powder should have been overcome, and when she should awake; and accordingly, embraced and violently agitated by Romeo, she awoke in his arms, and, starting into life, after a heavy sigh, she cried, Alas, where am I? who is it thus embraces me? by whom am I thus Rissed? and, believing it was the Frier Lorenzo, she exclaimed, Do you thus, O friar, keep your faith with Romeo? is it thus you