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The dawning they shall see, ne sommer any more,
The wery watch discharged did hye them home to slepe, . The warders, and the skowtes were chargde theyr place and
coorse to keepe, And Verone gates awyde the porters had set open. When Romeus had of his affayres with frier Lawrence spoken, Warely he walked forth, vnknowne of frend or foe, Clad like a merchant venterer, from top euen to the toe. He spurd apace, and came, withouten stop or stay, To Mantua gates, where lighted downe, he sent his man away With woords of comfort to his old afflicted syre; And straight, in mynde to soiourne there, a lodgeing doth he hyre, And with the nobler sort he doth himselfe acquaint, And he of his open wrong receaued the duke doth heare his
plaint. He practiseth by frends for pardon of exyle; The whilst, he seeketh euery way his sorowes to begyle. But who forgets the cole that burneth in his brest ? . Alas! his cares denye his hart the sweete desyred rest; No time findes he of myrth, he findes no place of joye, But euery thing occasion giues of sorow and annoye. For when in toorning skies the heauens lampes are light, And from the other hemysphere fayr Phæbus chaceth night, : When euery man and beast hath rest from painefull toyle, Then in the brest of Romeus his passions gyn to boyle. Then doth he wet with teares the cowche wheron he lyes, And then his sighs the chamber fill, and out aloude he cries Against the restles starres in rolling skyes that raunge, Against the fatall sisters three, and Fortune full of chaunge. Eche night a thousand times he calleth for the day," :. He thinketh Titans restles stedes of restines do stay; Or that at length they haue some bayting place found out, Or, (gyded yll,) haue lost theyr way and wandered farre about. Whyle thus in ydel thoughts the wery time he spendeth, The night hath end, but not with night the plaint of night he
endeth. . . Is he accompanied ? is he in place alone? In cumpany he wayles his harme, apart he maketh mone: For if his feeres reioyce, what cause hath he to ioy, That wanteth still his cheefe delight, while they theyr loues en
. ioye? But if with heauy cheere they shewe their inward greefe, He wayleth most his wretchednes that is of wretches cheefe. When he doth heare abrode the praise of ladies blowne, Within his thought he scorneth them, and doth preferre his owne.
When pleasant songes he beares, wheile others do reioyce,
glad. And (wery of the day) agayne he calleth night, The sunne he curseth, and the howre when fyrst his eyes saw
light. - i . And as the night and day their course do enterchaunge, So doth our Romeus nightly cares for cares of day exchaunge.
In absence of her knight the lady no way could Kepe trewe betwene her greefes and her, though nere so fayne
she would: And though with greater payne she cloked sorowes smart, Yet did her paled face disclose the passions of her hart. Her sighing euery howre, her weping euery where, Her recheles heede of meate, of slepe, and wearing of her geare, The carefull mother marks; then of her health afrayde, Because the greefes increased still, thus to her child she sayde: .“ Deere daughter if you shoulde long languishe in this sort, I stand in doute that ouer-soone your sorowes will make short Your louing father's life and myne, that loue you more Than our owne proprè breth and lyfe. Brydel henceforth ther. fore Your greefe and payne, yourselfe on ioy your thought to set,For time it is that now you should our Tybalts death forget. Of whom since God hath claymd the lyfe that was but lent, He is in blisse, ne is there cause why you should thus lament; You cannot call him backe with teares and shrikinges shrill: It is a falt thus still to grudge at Gods appoynted will.” . The seely soule had now no longer powre to fayne,.. Ne longer could she hyde her harme, but aunswerd thus agayne, With heauy broken sighes, with uisage pale and ded::
Madame, the last of Tybalts teares a great while since I shed ; Whose spring hath been ere this so laded out by me, That empty quite and moystureles I gesse it now to be. So that my payned hart by conduites of the eyne No more henceforth (as wont it was) shall gush forth dropping But when from howre to howre, from morow to the morow, Still more and more she saw increast her daughters wonted
bryne.” The wofull mother knew not what her daughter ment, And loth to vexe her childe by woordes, her peace she warely
sorow, All meanes she sought of her and howshold folke to know The certaine roote whereon her greefe and booteles mone doth
growe. But lo, she hath in vayne her time and labor lore, Wherfore without all measure is her hart tormented sore. And sith herselfe could not fynd out the cause of care, She thought it good to tell the syre how yll this childe did fare. And when she saw her time, thus to her feere she sayde: “ Syr, if you mark our daughter well, the countenance of the
mayde, And how she fareth since that Tybalt vnto death (Before his time, forst by his foe,) dyd yeld his liuing breath, Her face shall seeme so chaunged, her doynges eke so straunge, That you will greatly wonder at so great and sodain chaunge. Not onely she forbeares her meate, her drinke, and sleepe, But now she tendeth nothing els but to lament and weepe. No greater ioy hath she, nothing contentes her hart So much, as in the chaumber close to shut her selfe apart: . Where she doth so torment her poore afflicted mynde, That much in daunger stands her lyfe, except somme help we
fynde. But, (out alas !) I see not how it may be founde, Vnlesse that fyrst we might fynd whence her sorowes thus
abounde. For though with busy care I haue employde my wit, And vsed all the wayes I knew to learne the truth of it, Neither extremitie ne gentle meanes could boote; She hydeth close within her brest her secret sorowes roote. This was my fyrst conceite, that all her ruth arose Out of her coosin Tybalts death, late slayne of dedly foes, But now my hart doth hold a new repugnant thought; Somme greater thing, not Tybalts death, this chaunge in her hath
wrought. Her selfe assured me that many days agoe She shed the last of Tybalts teares; which woords amasd me so That I then could not gesse what thing els might her greeue: But now at length I haue bethought me; and I doe beleue The onely crop and roote of all my daughters payne Is grudgeing enuies faynt disease; perhaps she doth disdayne To see in wedlocke yoke the most part of her feeres, Whilst onely she vnmarried doth lose so many yeres. And more perchaunce she thinkes you mynd to kepe her so; Wherfore dispayring doth she weare herselfe away with woe.
Therefore, (deere Syr,) in time, take on your daughter ruth;
Both, for the mayden was well-shaped, yong and fayre,
The person of the man, the fewters of his face,
grace, With curious wordes she payntes before her daughters eyes, And then with store of vertues prayse she heaues him to the
skyes. She vauntes his race, and gyftes that Fortune did him geue, Wherby (she saith), both she and hers in great delight shall liue. When Juliet conceiued her parentes whole entent, Whereto both loue and reasons right forbod her to assent, Within herselfe she thought rather then be forsworne, With horses wilde her tender partes asonder should be torne. Not now, with bashfull brow, (in wonted wise,) she spake, But with vnwonted boldnes straight into these woordes she brake:
“ Madame, I maruell much, that you so lauasse are Of me your childe, (your iewell once, your onely ioy and care,) As thus to yelde me vp at pleasure of another, Before you know if I doe like or els mislike my louer. Doo what you list; but yet of this assure you still, If you do as you say you will, I yelde not there vntill. For had I choyse of twayne, farre rather would I choose My part of all your goodes and eke my breath and lyfe to.
lose, Then graunt that he possesse of me the smallest part : First, weary of my painefull life, my cares shall kill my hart; Els will I perce my brest with sharpe and bloody knife; And you, my mother, shall becomme the murdresse of my life, In geuing me to him, whom I ne can, ne may,'. Ne ought, to love: wherfore, on knees, deere mother, I you
pray, To let me liue henceforth, as. I have liued tofore; Ceasse all your troubles for my sake, and care for me no more; But suffer Fortune feerce to worke on me her will, In her it lyeth to doe me boote, in her it lyeth to spill. For whilst you for the best desyre to place me so, You hast away my lingring death, and double all my woe.”
So deepe this aunswere made the sorrowes downe to sinke Into the mothers brest, that she ne knoweth what to thinke Of these her daughters woords, but all appalde she standes, And vp vnto the heavens she throwes her wondring head and
handes. And, nigh besyde her selfe, her husband hath she sought; She telles him all; she doth forget ne yet she hydeth ought. The testy old man, wroth, disdainfull without measure, Sendes forth his folke in haste for her, and byds them take no