When she had longed long, and he long held his peace,
And her desire of hearing him by sylence dyd encrease,
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 arriuall here !"-
But ere she could speake forth the rest, to her Loue drewe so nere, And so within her mouth her tong 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 (quod he) vnware to me, O lady myne, is hapt: That geues you worthy cause my cumming here to blisse? Fayre Juliet was come agayne vnto her selfe by this;
Fyrst ruthfully she look'd, then say'd with smylyng cheere: "Meruayle no whit, my heartes delight, my onely knight and fere,
Mercutious hande had all to-frosen myne,
And of thy goodnes thou agayne hast warmed it with thyne.”
Whereto with stayed brow gan Romeus to replye:
"If so the Gods haue graunted me suche fauour from the skye,
That by my being here some seruice I haue donne
That pleaseth you, I am as glad as I a realme had wonne.
O wel-bestowed tyme that hath the happy hyre,
Which I woulde wysh if I might haue my wished hart's desire!
For I of God woulde craue, as pryse of paynes forpast,
To serue, obey, and honor 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 vnto his ladye lye.
But if my touched hand haue warmed yours some dele,
Assure your self the heat is colde which in your hand you fele,
Compard to suche quick sparks and glowing furious gleade,
As from your bewties pleasaunt eyne Loue caused to proceade;
Which haue so set on fyre eche feling parte of myne,
That lo! my mynde doeth melt awaye, my vtward parts doe
And, but you helpe all whole, to ashes shall I toorne ; Wherfore, alas! have ruth on him, whom you do force to
Euen with his ended tale, the torches-daunce had ende, And Juliet of force must part from her new-chosen frend. His hand she clasped hard, and all her partes did shake, When laysureles with whispring voyce thus did she aunswer
"You are no more your owne, deare frend, then I am yours; My honor sav'd, prest tobay your will, while life endures." Lo! here the lucky lot that sild true louers finde,
Eche takes away the others hart, and leaues the owne behinde.
A happy life is loue, if God graunt from aboue
That hart with hart by euen waight do make exchange of loue,
But Romeus gone from her, his hart for care is colde;
He hath forgot to aske her name, that hath his hart in holde.
With forged careles cheere, of one he seekes to knowe,
Both how she hight, and whence she camme, that him en-
chaunted so.
So hath he learnd her name, and knowth she is no geast,
Her father was a Capilet, and master of the feast.
Thus hath his foe in choyse to geue him lyfe or death,
That scarsely can his wofull brest keepe in the liuely breath.
Wherefore with piteous plaint feerce Fortune doth he blame,
That in his ruth and wretched plight doth seeke her laughing
And he reproueth Ioue cheefe cause of his vnrest,
Who ease and freedome hath exilde out of his youthfull brest: Twyse hath he made him serue, hopeles of his rewarde;
Of both the ylles to choose the lesse, I weene, the choyse were harde.
Fyrst to a ruthlesse one he made him sue for grace,
And now with spurre he forceth him to ronne an endles race.
Amyd these stormy seas one ancor doth him holde,
He serueth not a cruell one, as he had done of olde;
And therefore is content and chooseth still to serue,
Though hap should sweare that guerdonles the wretched wight should sterue.
The lot of Tantalus is, Romeus, lyke to thine;
For want of foode, amid his foode, the myser styll doth pine.
As carefull was the mayde what way were best deuise,
To learne his name that intertaind her in so gentle wise;
Of whom her hart receiued so deepe, so wyde, a wounde.
An auncient dame she calde to her, and in her eare gan rounde :
(This old dame in her youth, had nurst her with her mylke,
With slender nedel taught her sow, and how to spin with
What twayne are those, quoth she, which prease vnto the doore, Whose pages in theyr hand doe beare two toorches light before? And then, as eche of them had of his houshold name,
So she him namde.-Yet once agayne the yong and wyly dame:— "And tell me who is he with vysor in his hand,
That yender doth in masking weede besyde the window stand." His name is Romeus, sayd she, a Montegew,
Whose fathers pryde first styrd the strife which both your hous
The woord of Montegew her ioys did ouerthrow,
And straight insteade of happy hope dyspayre began to growe.
What hap haue I, quoth she, to loue my fathers foe?
What, am I wery of my wele? what, doe I wishe my woe?
But though her grieuouse paynes distraind her tender hart,
Yet with an outward shewe of ioye she cloked inward smart;
And of the courtlyke dames her leaue so courtly tooke,
That none dyd gesse the sodain change by changing of her looke.
Then at her mothers hest to chamber she her hyde,
So wel she faynde, mother ne nurce the hidden harme descride.
But when she should haue slept as wont she was in bed,
Not halfe a winke of quiet slepe could harber in her hed;
For loe, an hugy heape of dyuers thoughtes arise,
That rest haue banisht from her hart, and slumber from her eyes.
And now from side to side she tosseth and she turnes,
And now for feare she sheuereth, and now for love she burnes,
And now she lykes her choyse, and now her choyse she blames,
And now eche houre within her head a thousand fansies frames.
Sometime in mynde to stop amyd her course begonne,
Sometime she vowes, what so betyde, that tempted race to ronne.
Thus dangers dred and loue within the mayden fought;
The fight was feerce, continuyng long by their contrary thought.
In tourning mase of loue she wandreth too and fro,
Then standeth doutfull what to doe; last, ouerprest with woe,
How so her fansies cease, her teares dyd neuer blyn,
With heauy cheere and wringed hands thus doth her plaint begyn.
"Ah sily foole, quoth she, y-cought in soottill snare!
Ah wretched wench, bewrapt in woe! ah caytife clad with care!
Whence come these wandring thoughts to thy vnconstant brest,
By straying thus from raysons lore, that reue thy wonted rest?
What if his suttell brayne to fayne haue taught his tong,
And so the snake that lurkes in grasse thy tender hart hath stong?
What if with frendly speache the traytor lye in wayte,
As oft the poysond hooke is hid, wrapt in the pleasant bayte?
Oft vnder cloke of truth hath Falshood serued her lust;
And toornd theyr honor into shame, that did so slightly trust.
What, was not Dido so, a crouned queene, defamd?
And eke, for such an heynous cryme, haue men not Theseus blamd?
A thousand stories more, to teache me to beware,
In Boccace and in Ouids bookes too playnely written are.
Perhaps, the great reuenge he cannot woorke by strength,
By suttel sleight (my honor staynde) he hopes to worke at
length.
So shall I seeke to finde my fathers foe, his game;
So (I befylde) Report shall take her trompe of blacke defame, Whence she with puffed cheeke shall blowe a blast so shrill Of my disprayse, 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 hollowe toombe."
Straight underneth her foote she treadeth in the dust
Her troublesom thought, as wholy vaine, y-bred of fond distrust.
"No, no, by God aboue, 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,
There crooked craft and trayson blacke should be appoynted
gestes.
Sage writers say, the thoughts are dwelling in the eyne;
Then sure I am, as Cupid raignes, that Romeus is myne.
The tong the messenger eke call they of the mynd;
So that I see he loueth me:-shall I then be vnkynd?
His faces rosy hew I saw full oft to seeke;
And straight againe it flashed foorth, and spred in eyther cheeke.
His fyxed heauenly eyne that through me quite did perce
His thoughts vnto my hart, my thought they semed to rehearce.
What ment his foltring tunge in telling of his tale?
The trembling of his ioynts, and eke his cooller waxen pale?
And whilst I talke with him, hymself he hath exylde
Out of himself, as seemed me; ne was I sure begylde.
Those arguments of loue craft wrate not in his face,
But Natures hande, when all deceyte was banishd out of place.
What other certain signes seke I of his good wil?
These doo suffise; and stedfast I will loue and serue him still,
Till Attropos shall cut my fatall thread of lyfe,
So that he mynde to make of me his lawfull wedded wyfe.
For so perchaunce this new aliance may procure
Vnto our houses suche a peace as euer shall endure."
Oh how we can perswade ourself to what we like!
And how we can diswade our mynd, if ought our mynd mislyke!
Weake arguments are stronge, our fansies streyght to frame
To pleasing things, and eke to shonne, if we mislike the same.
The mayde had scarsely yet ended the wery warre,
Kept in her heart by striuing thoughtes, when euery shining starre
Had payd his borowed light, and Phebus 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 vpward to her windowes high his gredy eyes did cast,
His loue that looked for him there gan he straight espie.
With pleasant cheere eche greeted is; she followeth with her
His parting steppes, and he oft looketh backe againe,
But not so oft as he desyres; warely he doth refraine.
What life were lyke to loue, if dred of ieopardy
Y-sowred not the sweete; if loue were free from ielosy!
But she more sure within, vnseene 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 euery pane and tooting hole the wily louer knew,
In happy houre he doth a garden plot espye,
From which, except he warely walke, men may his loue descrye; For lo! it fronted full vpon her leaning place,
Where she is woont to shew her heart by cheerfull frendly face. And lest the arbors might theyr secret loue bewraye,
He doth keepe backe his forward foote from passing there by daye;
But when on earth the Night her mantel blacke hath spred,
Well-armd he walketh foorth alone, ne dreadfull foes doth dred,
Whom maketh Loue not bold, naye whom makes he not blinde?
He reueth daungers dread oft times out of the louers minde.
By night he passeth here a weeke or two in vayne;
And for the missing of his marke his griefe hath hym nye slaine.
And Juliet that now doth lacke her hearts releefe,-
Her Romeus pleasant eyen I meene-is almost dead for greefe.
Eche daye she chaungeth howres, for louers keepe an howre
When they are sure to see their loue, in passing by their howre.*
Impacient of her woe, she hapt to leane one night
Within her window, and anon the moone did shine so bright
That she espyde her loue; her hart reuiued sprang;
And now for ioy she clappes her handes, which erst for woe she
Eke Romeus, when he sawe his long desired sight,
His moorning cloke of mone cast of, hath clad him with delight. Yet dare I say, of both that she reioyced more:
His care was great, hers twise as great was, all the tyme before;
For whilst she knew not why he did himselfe absent,
Ay douting both his health and lyfe, his death she dyd lament.
For loue is fearefull oft where is no cause of feare, [weare.
And what loue feares, that loue laments, as though it chaunced
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 agayne he feedes his faynting hart.
What woonder then if he were wrapt in lesse annoye?
What maruell if by sodain sight she fed of greater ioye?
His smaller greefe or ioy no smaller loue doo proue;
Ne, for she passed him in both, did she him passe in loue:
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