But eche of them alike dyd burne in equall flame, The wel-belouing knight and eke the wel-beloued dame. "Oh Romeus, of your lyfe too lauas sure you are, That in this place, and at thys tyme, to hasard it you dare. Lyke lyons wylde, your tender partes asonder would they teare. With cruell hand my moorning hart would perce with bloudy knyfe. For you, myne own, once dead, what ioy should I haue heare? And eke my honor staynde, which I then lyfe doe holde more 66 deare." Fayre lady myne, dame Juliet, my lyfe (quod he) A sacrifice to death I would And how I dread to loose the gayne which I doe hope to win : That sure there is no greefe so small, by which your mynde endures, But as you suffer payne, so I doe beare in part (Although it lessens not your greefe) the halfe of all your smart. But these thinges ouerpast, if of your health and myne beholde. In error shall you wander still, as you haue done this whyle: If wedlocke be the ende and marke which your desire hath found, Obedience set aside, vnto my parentes dewe, The quarell eke that long agone betwene our housholdes grewe, Both me and myne I will all whole to you betake, And following you where so you goe, my fathers house forsake. But if by wanton loue and by vnlawfull sute You thinke in ripest yeres to plucke my maydenhods dainty frute, You are begylde; and now your Juliet you beseekes To cease your sute, and suffer her to liue among her likes." Or, till they haue enioyd the like, the hearers hart can gesse.* He thankes the Gods, and from the heauens for vengeance downe he cries, If he haue other thought but as his Lady spake; And then his looke he toornd to her, and thus did aunswer make: "Since, lady, that you like to honor me so much As to accept me for your spouse, I yeld myselfe for such. In true witnes wherof, because I must depart, Till that my deede do proue my woord, I leaue in pawne my Tomorrow eke betimes, before the sunne arise, To Fryer Lawrence will I wende, to learne his sage aduise, hart. the hearers hart can gesse.] From these words it should seem that this poem was formerly sung or recited to casual passengers in the streets. See also p. 285, 1. 23: "If any man be here, whom love hath clad with care, To him I speak; if thou wilt speed," &c. MALONE. In former days, when the faculty of reading was by no means so general as at present, it must have been no unfrequent practice for those who did not possess this accomplishment to gratify their curiosity by listening while some better educated person read aloud. It is, I think, scarcely probable, that a poem of the length of this Tragicall Hystory should be sung or recited in the streets: And Sir John Maundevile, at the close of his work, intreats" alle the Redéres and HERERES of his boke, zif it plese hem that thei wolde preyen to God," &c. p. 383, 8vo. edit. 1727. By hereres of his boke he unquestionably intended hearers in the sense. I have suggested. HOLT WHITE, . He is my gostly syre, and oft he hath me taught What I should doe in things of wayght, when I his ayde haue sought. And at this self same houre, I plyte you here my faith, I wil be here, (if you think good,) to tell you what he sayth." That night, at lady Juliets hand, saue pleasant woordes alone. But doctor of diuinitie proceded he in schoole. The secretes eke he knew in Natures woorkes that loorke; By magiks arte most men supposd that he could wonders woorke. Ne doth it ill beseeme deuines those skils to know, If on no harmeful deede they do such skilfulnes bestow; For iustly of no arte can men condemne the vse, But right and reasons lore crye out agaynst the lewd abuse. The townes folks herts, that welnigh all to fryer Lawrence ronne, To shriue themselfe; the olde, the yong, the great and small; Of all he is beloued well, and honord much of all. And, for he did the rest in wisdome farre exceede, The prince by him (his counsell craude) was holpe at time of neede. Betwixt the Capilets and him great frendship grew, A secret and assured frend vnto the Montegue. Loued of this yong man more then any other gest, The frier eke of Verone youth aye liked Romeus best; For whom he euer hath in time of his distres, As erst you heard,) by skilful lore found out his harmes redresse. To him is Romeus gonne, ne stayth he till the morowe; To him he paynteth all his case, his passed ioy and sorow. How he hath her espyde with other dames in daunce, And how that first to talke with her himselfe he did ad uaunce Their talke and change of lookes he gan to him declare, And how so fast by fayth and troth they both y-coupled are, That neither hope of lyfe, nor dred of cruel death, Shall make him false his fayth to her, while lyfe shall lend him breath. And then with weping eyes he prayes his gostly syre To further and accomplish all their honest hartes desyre. A thousand daungers like to come the old man doth disclose, And from the spousall rites he readeth him refrayne, Except aduise to what they like theyr bending mynde do moue. As well the father might haue counseld him to stay That from a mountaines top thrown downe is falling halfe the way, As warne his frend to stop amyd his race begonne, Whom Cupid with his smarting whip enforceth foorth to ronne. What way were best, vnknowne, to ende so great an enterprise. Scarce pacient tarieth whilst his leeche doth make the salue to cure: So Romeus hardly graunts a short day and a night, Yet nedes he must, els must he want his onely heartes delight. But wonne at length with promest hyre, she made a solemne vowe To do what she commaundes, as handmayd of her hest; To know the meane of mariage, by councell of the fryre. She shalbe shriued and maried-how lyke you, noorse, this drift? Now by my truth, (quod she) God's blessing haue your hart, If that you loue the daughter well, to bleare the mothers eyes! To mock the sely mother, that suspecteth nothing lesse. But that it pleased you to tell me of the case, For all my many yeres perhaps I should haue found it scarse. To get her leaue, some feate excuse I will deuise anone; Or for in thoughts of loue her ydel time she spent, Or otherwise within her hart deserued to be shent. I know her mother will in no case say her nay; I warrant you, she shall not fayle to come on Saterday. And then she sweares to him, the mother loues her well; Lord how it could full pretely haue prated with it tong! And clapt her on the buttocke soft, and kist where I did clappe. Then I had been to haue a kisse of some olde lecher's mouth. The message aunswer seemed him to be of more behoue. The day and eke the candle light before theyr talke shall fayle. Yet boldly do they chat of both, when no man checkes theyr lyes. Then he vi crownes of gold out of his pocket drew, And gaue them her; a slight reward (quod he) and so adiew. In seuen yeres twise tolde she had not bowd so lowe Her crooked knees, as now they bowe: she sweares she will be stowe Her crafty wit, her time, and all her busy payne, To helpe him to his hoped blisse; and, cowring downe agayne, She takes her leaue, and home she hyes with spedy pace; The chaumber doore she shuts, and then she saith with smyling face; Good newes for thee, my gyrle, good tidinges I thee bring, Of all this towne, and there is none hath halfe so good a grace: And still with many prayses more she heaued him to the skies. |