Through my most haynous deede, with hedlong sway throwne

downe,

In greatest daunger of my lyfe, and domage of renowne.
head this new conceite doth ryse,
The spring, whence in your
And in your hart increaseth still your vayne and wrong sur-

mise,

May be the hugenes of these teares of myne, (percase,)
That so aboundantly downe fall by eyther syde my face;
As though the memory in scriptures were not kept
That Christ our sauiour himselfe for ruth and pittie wept:
And more, whoso will reade, y-written shall he fynde,
That teares are as true messengers of mans vngylty mynde.
Or els, (a liker proofe,) that I am in the cryme,

You say these present yrons are, and the suspected tyme:
As though all howres alike had not been made aboue!

Did Christ not say, the day had twelue? whereby he sought to

proue,

That no respect of howres ought iustly to be had,

But at all times men haue the choyce of dooing good or bad;
Euen as the sprite of God the hartes of men doth guyde,
Or as it leaueth them to stray from Vertues path asyde.

As for the yrons that were taken in my hand,

As now I deeme, I neede not seeke to make ye vnderstande
To what use yron first was made, when it began;

How of it selfe it helpeth not, ne yet can helpe a man.

The thing that hurteth is the malice of his will,

That such indifferent thinges is wont to vse and order yll.

Thus much thought to say, to cause you so to know

That neither these my piteous teares, though nere so fast they

flowe,

Ne yet these yron tooles, nor the suspected time,

Can iustly proue the murther donne, or damne me of the

cryme:

No one of these hath powre, ne powre haue all the three,
To make me other then I am, how so I seeme to be.

But sure my conscience, (if so my gylt deserue,)

For an appeacher, witnesse, and a hangman, eke should serue; For through mine age, whose heares of long time since were

hore,

And credyt greate that I was in, with you, in time tofore,
And eke the soiorne short that I on earth must make,
That euery day and howre do loke my iourney hence to take,
My conscience inwardly should more torment me thrise,
Then all the outward deadly payne that all you could deuyse.
But God I prayse, I feele no worme that gnaweth me,
And from remorses pricking sting I ioy that I am free:

I meane, as touching this, wherwith you troubled are, Wherwith you should be troubled still, if I my speche should

spare.

But to the end I may set all your hartes at rest,

And plucke out all the scrupuls that are rooted in your brest,
Which might perhappes henceforth increasing more and more,
Within your conscience also increase your curelesse sore,
I sweare by yonder heauens, whither I hope to clym,
And for a witnes of my woordes my hart attesteth him,
Whose mighty hand doth welde them in their vyolent sway,
And on the rolling stormy seas the heauy earth doth stay
That I will make a short and eke a true dyscourse

Of this most wofull Tragedy, and shew both thend and sourse
Of theyr vnhappy death, which you perchaunce no lesse
Will wonder at then they (alas!) poore louers in distresse,
Tormented much in mynd, not forcing liuely breath,

With strong and patient hart dyd yelde themselfe to cruell death:
Such was the mutuall loue wherin they burned both,

And of theyr promyst frendshippes fayth so stedy was the troth."
And then the auncient frier began to make dyscourse,

Euen from the first, of Romeus and Juliets amours;
How first by sodayn sight the one the other chose,

And twixt them selfe dyd knitte the knotte which onely death might lose;

And how, within a while, with hotter loue opprest,

Vnder confessions cloke, to him themselfe they haue addrest;
And how with solemne othes they haue protested both,
That they in hart are maried by promise and by othe;
And that except he graunt the rytes of church to geue,
They shal be forst by earnest loue in sinneful state to liue:
Which thing when he had wayde, and when he vnderstoode
That the agreement twixt them twayn was lawfull, honest,

good,

And all thinges peysed well, it seemed meete to bee
For lyke they were of noblenesse, age, riches, and degree;
Hoping that so at length ended myght be the stryfe

Of Montagewes and Capelets, that led in hate theyr lyfe,
Thinking to woorke a woorke well-pleasing in Gods sight,

In secret shrift he wedded them; and they the selfe same night
Made vp the mariage in house of Capelet,

As well doth know (if she be askt) the nurce of Juliet.

He told how Romeus fled for reuing Tybalts lyfe,

And how, the whilst, Paris the Earle was offred to hys wyfe; And how the lady dyd so great a wrong dysdayne,

And how to shrift vnto his church she came to him agayne;

And how she fell flat downe before his feete aground,
And how she sware, her hand and blody knife should wound
Her harmeles hart, except that he some meane dyd fynde
To dysappoynt the Earles attempt: and spotles saue her mynde.
Wherfore, he doth conclude, (although that long before)
By thought of death and age he had refusde for euermore
The hidden artes which he delighted in, in youth,
Yet wonne by her importunenes, and by his inward ruth,
And fearing lest she would her cruell vowe dyscharge,
His closed conscience he had opened and set at large;
And rather did he choose to suffer for one tyme

His soule to be spotted somdeale with small and easy cryme,
Then that the lady should, (wery of liuing breath,)

Murther her selfe, and daunger much her seely soule by

death:

Wherfore his auncient artes agayne he puttes in ure,

A certain powder gaue he her, that made her slepe so sure,
That they her held for dead; and how that frier John
With letters sent to Romeus to Mantua is gone;

Of whom he knoweth not as yet, what is becomme;

And how that dead he found his frend within her kindreds tombe.

He thinkes with poyson strong, for care the yong man sterude,
Supposing Juliet dead; and how that Juliet hath carude,
With Romeus dagger drawne her hart, and yelded breath,
Desyrous to accompany her louer after death;

And how they could not saue her, so they were afeard,
And hidde themselfe, dreding the noyse of watchmen, that
they heard.

And for the proofe of thys his tale, he doth desyer

The judge to send forthwith to Mantua for the fryer,

To learne his cause of stay, and eke to reade his letter;

And, more beside, to thend that they might iudge his cause the

better,

He prayeth them depose the nurce of Juliet,

And Romeus man, whom at vnwares besyde the tombe he

met.

Then Peter, not so much, as erst he was, dysmayd:

My lordes, (quoth he,) too true is all that fryer Laurence sayd.
And when my maister went into my mystres graue,
This letter that I offer you, vnto me then he gaue,
Which he himselfe dyd write, as I do vnderstand,
And charged me to offer them vnto his fathers hand.
The opened packet doth conteyne in it the same

That erst the skilfull frier said; and eke the wretches name

That had at his request the dedly poyson sold,

The price of-it, and why he bought, his letters plaine haue tolde. The case vnfolded so and open now it lyes,

That they could wish no better proofe, saue seeing it with theyr

eyes:

So orderly all thinges, were tolde, and tryed out,

That in the prease there was not one that stoode at all in doute.

The wyser sort, to councell called by Escalus,

Here geven aduyse, and Escalus sagely decreeth thus:

The nurse of Juliet is banisht in her age,

Because that from the parentes she dyd hyde the mariage,

Which might have wrought much good had it in time been knowne,

Where now by her concealing it a mischeefe great is growne; And Peter for, he dyd obey his masters hest,

In woonted freedome had good leaue to lead his lyfe in rest: Thapothecary high is hanged by the throte,

And, for the paynes he tooke with him, the hangman had his

cote.

But now what shall betyde of this gray-bearded syre,

Of fryer Lawrence thus araynde, that good barefooted fryre? Because that many time he woorthely did serue

The common welth, and in his lyfe was neuer found to swerue, He was discharged quyte, and no marke of defame

Did seem to blot or touch at all the honour of his name.

But of himselfe he went into an Hermitage,

Two myles from Veron towne, where he in prayers past forth

his age;

Tyll that from earth to heauen his heauenly sprite dyd flye:
Fyue years he liued an Hermite, and an Hermite dyd he dye.
The straungnes of the chaunce, when tryed was the truth,
The Montagewes and Capelets hath moued so to ruth,
That with their emptyed teares theyr choler and theyr rage
Has emptied quite; and they, whose wrath no wisdom could

asswage,

Nor threatning of the prince, ne mynde of murthers donne,
At length, (so mighty Joue it would) by pitye they are wonne.
And lest that length of time might from our myndes remoue
The memory of so perfect, sound, and so approued loue,
The bodies dead, remoued from vaulte where they did dye,
In stately tombe, on pillers great of marble, rayse they hye.
On euery side aboue were set, and eke beneath,

Great store of cunning Epitaphes, in honor of theyr death.

*

And euen at this day the tombe is to be seene;
So that among the monuments that in Verona been,
There is no monument more worthy of the sight,
Than is the tombe of Juliet and Romeus her knight.

¶ Imprinted at London in
Flete strete within Temble barre, at
the signe of the hand and starre, by
Richard Tottill the xix day of
Nouember. An. do. 1562.

Breval says, in his Travels, 1726, that when he was at Verona, his guide shewed him an old building, then converted into a house for orphans, in which the tomb of these unhappy lovers had been; but it was then destroyed.

MALONE.