She cryde, O cursed windowe! acurst be euery pane, Through which, (alas!) to sone I raught the cause of life and
If by thy meane I haue some slight delight receaued,
Or els such fading pleasure as by Fortune straight was reaued,
Hast thou not made me pay a tribute rigorous
Of heaped greefe and lasting care, and sorowes dolorous?
That these my tender partes, which nedefull strength do lacke
To beare so great vnweldy lode vpon so weake a backe,
Opprest with waight of cares and with these sorowes rife,
At length must open wide to death the gates of lothed lyfe;
That so my wery sprite may somme where els vnlode
His dedly lode, and free from thrall may seeke els where abrode;
For pleasant quiet ease and for assured rest,
Which I as yet could neuer finde but for my more vnrest?
O Romeus, when first we both acquainted were,
When to thy paynted promises I lent my listning eare,
Which to the brinkes you fild with many a solemne othe,
And I them iudgde empty of gyle, and fraughted full of troth,
I thought you rather would continue our good will,
And seek tappease our fathers strife, which daily groweth still.
I little wend you would haue sought occasion how
By such an heynous act to breake the peace and eke your vowe;
Whereby your bright renoune all whole yclipsed is,
And I vnhappy, husbandles, of cumforte robde and blisse.
But if you did so much the blood of Capels thyrst,
Why have you often spared mine? myne might haue quencht
Synce that so many times and in so secret place,
(Where you were wont with vele of loue to hyde your hatreds face,)
My doubtful lyfe hath hapt by fatall dome to stand
In mercy of your cruell hart, and of your bloudy hand,
What! seemd the conquest which you got of me so small? What! seemd it not enough that I, poore wretch, was made your thrall?
But that you must increase it with that kinsmans blood,
Which for his woorth and loue to me, most in my fauour stood?
Well, goe hencefoorth els where, and seeke an other whyle.
Some other as vnhappy as I, by flattry to begyle.
And, where I comme, see that you shonne to shew your face,
For
your excuse within my hart shall finde no resting place.
And I that now, too late, my former fault repent,
Will so the rest of wery life with many teares lament,
That soon my ioyceles corps shall yeld vp banishd breath,
And where on earth it restles liued, in earth seeke rest by death.
These sayde, her tender hart, by payne oppressed sore,
Restraynd her tears, and forced her tong to keepe her talke in
store;
And then as still she was, as if in sownd she lay,
And then agayne, wroth with herselfe, with feble voyce gan say:
"Ah cruell murthering tong, murthrer of others fame,
How durst thou once attempt to tooch the honor of his name?
Whose dedly foes doe yelde him dewe and earned prayse;
For though his fredome be bereft, his honor not decayes.
Why blamst thou Romeus for sleying of Tybalt,
Since he is gyltles quite of all, and Tibalt beares the falt?
Whether shall he, (alas!) poore banishd man, now flye?
What place of succor shall he seeke beneth the starry skye?
Synce she pursueth hym, and him defames by wrong,
That in distres should be his fort, and onely rampier strong.
Receiue the recompence, O Romeus, of thy wife,
Who, for she was vnkind her selfe, doth offer vp her lyfe,
In flames of yre, in sighes, in sorow and in ruth,
So to revenge the crime she did commit against thy truth."
These said, she could no more; her senses all gan fayle,
And dedly panges began straightway her tender hart assayle;
Her limmes she stretched forth, she drew no more her breath:
Who had been there might well haue seene the signes of present
death.
The nurce that knew no cause why she absented her,
Did doute lest that some sodain greefe too much tormented her.
Eche where but where she was, the carefull Beldam sought,
Last, of the chamber where she lay she haply her bethought;
Where she with piteous eye her nurce-childe did beholde,
Her limmes stretched out, her vtward parts as any marble colde.
The nurce supposde that she had payde to death her det,
And then, as she had lost her wittes, she cryde to Juliet:
Ah! my dere hart, quoth she, how greeueth me thy death!
Alas! what cause hast thou thus soone to yelde up liuing breath?
But while she handled her, and chafed euery part,
She knew there was some sparke of life by beating of her hart,
So that a thousand times she cald vpon her name;
There is no way to helpe a traunce but she hath tryde the same:
She openeth wide her mouth, she stoppeth close her nose,
She bendeth downe her brest, she wringes her fingers and her
And on her bosome colde she layeth clothes hot;
A warmed and a holesome iuyce she powreth downe her throte.
At length doth Juliet heave fayntly vp her eyes,
And then she stretcheth forth her arme, and then her nurce she
But when she was awakde from her vnkindly traunce,
"Why dost thou trouble me, (quoth she,) what draue thee, (with mischaunce,)
To come to see my sprite forsake my bretheles corse?
Go hence, and let me dye, if thou haue on my smart remorse.
For who would see her frend to liue in dedly payne?
Alas! I see my greefe begoone for euer will remayne.
Or who would seeke to liue, all pleasure being past?
My myrth is donne, my moorning mone for ay is like to last.
Wherefore since that there is none other remedy,
Comme gentle death, and ryué my hart at once, and let my dye."
The nurce with tricling teares, to witnes inward smart,
With holow sigh fetchd from the depth of her appauled hart, Thus spake to Juliet, y-clad with ougly care:
"Good lady myne, I do not know what makes you thus to fare;
yet the cause of your vnmeasurde heauiness.
But of this one I you assure, for care and sorowes stresse,
This hower large and more I thought, (so God me saue,)
That my dead corps, should wayte on yours to your vntimely
graue."
"Alas, my tender nurce, and trusty frend, (quoth she)
Art thou so blinde that with thine eye thou canst not easely see The lawfull cause I haue to sorow and to moorne,
Since those the which I hyld most deere, I have at once forlorne."
Her nurce then aunswered thus-" Methinkes it sits you yll
To fall in these extremities that may you gyltles spill.
For when the stormes of care and troubles do aryse,
Then is the time for men to know the foolish from the wise.
You are accounted wise, a foole am I your nurce;
But I see not how in like case I could behaue me wurse.
Tibalt your frend is ded; what, weene you by your teares
To call him backe againe? thinke you that he your crying
You shall perceue the falt, (if it be iustly tryde,)
Of his so sodayn death was in his rashnes and his pryde.
Would you that Romeus him selfe had wronged so,
To suffer him selfe causeles to be outraged of his foe,
To whom in no respect he ought a place to geue?
Let it suffise to thee, fayre dame, that Romeus doth liue,
And that there is good hope that he, within a while,
With greater glory shalbe calde home from his hard exile.
How well y-borne he is, thyselfe I know canst tell,
By kindred strong, and well alyed, of all beloued well.
With patience arme thyselfe, for though that Fortunes cryme,
Without your falt, to both your greefes, depart you for a time.
I dare say, for amendes of all your present payne,
She will restore your owne to you, within a month or twayne,
With such contented ease as neuer erst you
Wherfore reioyce a while in hope, and be ne more so sad.
And that I may discharge your hart of heauy care,
A certaine way I haue found out, my paynes ne will I spare,
To learne his present state, and what in time to comme
He mindes to doe: which knowne by me, you shall know all and somme.
But that I dread the whilst your sorowes will you quell,
Straight would I hye where he doth lurke, to frier Lawrence
But if you gyn eft sones, (as erst you did,) to moorne,
Wherto goe I? you will be ded, before I thence retoorne.
So I shall spend in wast my time and busy payne,
So vnto you, your ilfe once lost, good auns were comes in
So shall I ridde my selfe with this sharpe pointed knife,
So shall you cause your parents deere wax wery of theyr life;
So shall your Romeus, (despising liuely breath,)
With hasty foote, before his tyme, ronne to vntimely death.
Where, if you can a while by reason rage suppresse,
I hope at my retorne to bring the salue of
your distresse.
Now choose to haue me here a partner of your payne,
Or promesse me to feede on hope till I retorne agayne."
Her mistres sendes her forth, and makes a graue behest
With reasons rayne to rule the thoughts that rage within her
brest.
When hugy heapes of harmes are heapd before her eyes,
Then vanish they by hope of scape; and thus the lady lyes
Twixt well-assured trust, and doutfull lewd dispayre:
Now blacke and ougly be her thoughts; now seeme they white
As oft in summer tide blacke cloudes do dimme the sonne,
And straight againe in clearest skye his restles steedes do ronne;
So Juliets wandring mynd y-clowded is with woe,
And by and by her hasty thought the woes doth ouergoe.
But now is time to tell, whilst she was tossed thus,
What windes did driue or haven did hold her louer Romeus.
When he had slayne his foe that gan this dedly strife,
And saw the furious fray had ende by ending Tybalts life,
He fled the sharpe reuenge of those that yet did live,
And douting much what penall doome the troubled prince myght
He sought somewhere vnseene to lurke a little space,
And trusty Lawrence secret cell he thought the surest place. In doutfull happe ay best a trusty frend is tride;
The frendly fryer in this distresse doth graunt his frend to hyde.
A secret place he hath, well seeled round about,
The mouth of which so close is shut, that none may finde it out;
But roome there is to walke, and place to sitte and rest,
Beside a bed to sleape vpon, full soft and trimly drest.
The flowre is planked so, with mattes it is so warme,
That neither wind nor smoky damps haue powre him ought to harme.
Where he was wont in youth his fayre frends to bestowe,
There now he hydeth Romeus, whilst forth he goeth to knowe
Both what is sayd and donne, and what appoynted payne
Is published by trumpets sound; then home he hyes agayne.
By this vnto his cell the nurce with spedy pace
Was comme the nerest way; she sought no ydel resting place.
The fryer sent home the newes of Romeus certain helth,
And promesse made (what so befell) he should that night by stelth
Comme to his wonted place, that they in nedefull wise
Of theyr affayres in tyme to comme might thoroughly devise.
Those ioyfull newes the nurce brought home with mery ioy;
And now our Juliet ioyes to thinke she shall her loue enioye.
The fryer shuts fast his doore, and then to him beneth,
That waytes to heare the doutefull newes of lyfe or els of death.
Thy hap, quoth he, is good, daunger of death is none,
But thou shalt liue, and doe full well, in spite of spitefull fone.
This onely payne for thee was erst proclaymde aloude,
A banishd man, thou mayst thee not within Verona shroude.
These heauy tydings heard, his golden lockes he tare,
And like a frantike man hath torne the garmentes that he ware.
And as the smitten deere in brakes is waltring found,
So waltreth he, and with his brest doth beate the troden grounde.
He rises eft, and striketh his hed against the wals,
He falleth downe againe, and lowde for hasty death he cals. "Come spedy deth, (quoth he,) the readiest leache in loue, Since nought can els beneth the sunne the ground of grefe re
Of lothsome life breake downe the hated staggering stayes,
Destroy, destroy at once the lyfe that faintly yet decayes.
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