But eche of them alike dyd burne in equall flame,

The wel-beloving knight and eke the wel-beloved dame.

Now whilft with bitter teares her eyes as fountaines ronne,

With whispering voice, y-broke with fobs, thus is her tale be

gonne :

"Oh Romeus, of your life too lavas sure you are,

That in this place, and at this tyme, to hazard it you dare.
What if your dedly foes, my kinfmen, faw you here?

Lyke lyons wylde, your tender partes afonder would they teare.
In ruth and in difdayne, I, wery of my life,

With cruell hand my moorning hart would perce with bloudy

knyfe.

For you, myne own, once dead, what joy fhould I have heare? And eke my honor staynd, which I then lyfe do holde more deare."

"Fayre lady myne, dame Juliet, my lyfe (quod hee)
Even from my byrth committed was to fatall fifters three.
They may in fpyte of foes draw foorth my lively threed;
And they alfo (who so fayth nay) afonder may it fhreed.
But who, to reave my life, his rage and force would bende,
Perhaps should trye unto his payne how I it coulde defende,
Ne yet I love it fo, but alwayes, for your fake,

A facrifice to death I would my wounded corps betake.
If my mishappe were fuch, that here, before your fight,
I fhould reftore agayn to death, of lyfe my borrowed light,
This one thing and no more my parting fprite would rewe,
That part he should before that you by certain trial knew
The love I owe to you, the thrall I languish in,

And how I dread to loose the gayne which I do hope to win:
And how I wish for lyfe, not for my proper ease,

But that in it you might I love, your honor, ferve and please,
Till dedly pangs the fprite out of the corps shall send
And thereupon he sware an othe, and fo his tale had ende.
Now love and pitty boyle in Juliets ruthfull breft;
In windowe on her leaning arme her weary head doth reft:
Her bofome bathd in teares (to witnes inward payne),
With dreary chere to Romeus thus aunswered he agayne:
"Ah my dere Romeus, kepe in these words, (quod the)
For lo, the thought of fuch mifchaunce already maketh me
For pity and for dred well nigh to yeld up breath;

In even ballance peyfed are my life and eke my death.
For fo my heart is knit, yea made one felfe with yours,

That fure there is no greefe fo fmall, by which your mynd endures,

But as you fuffer payne, fo I doo beare in part

(Although it leffens not your greefe) the halfe of all your smart.

But these thinges overpaft, if of your health and myne
You have respect, or pity ought my teer-y-weeping eyen,
In few unfained woords your hidden mynd unfolde,

That as I fee your pleasant face, your heart I may beholde.
For if you do intende my honor to defile,

In error fhall you wander ftill, as you have done this while :
But if your thought be chaste, and have on vertue ground,
If wedlocke be the ende and marke which your defyre hath
found,

Obedience set asyde, unto my parents dewe,

The quarrel eke that long agone betwene our houfholdes grewe, Both me and mine I will all whole to you betake,

And following you where so you goe, my fathers house forfake. But if by wanton love and by unlawful fute

You thinke in rypeft yeres to plucke my maydenhoods dainty frute,

You are begylde; and now your Juliet you befeekes

To cease your fute, and fuffer her to live among her likes."
Then Romeus, whose thought was free from fowle desyre,
And to the top of vertues haight did worthely aspyre,
Was fild with greater joy then can my pen expreffe,

Or, tyll they have enjoyd the like, the hearers hart can geife.*
And then with joyned hands, heavd up into the skies,

He thankes the Gods, and from the heavens for vengeance down

he cries,

If he have other thought but as his Lady fpake;

And then his looke he toornd to her, and thus did anfwere make: "Since, lady, that you like to honor me fo much

As to accept me for your spouse, I yeeld myself for fuch.

In true witnes whereof, because I must depart,

Till that my deede do prove my woord, I leave in pawne my hart. Tomorrow eke betimes, before the funne arise,

To Fryer Lawrence will I wende, to learne his fage advise.

the hearers hart can gesse.]

From these words it fhould feem that this poem was formerly fung or recited to cafual paffengers in the streets. See alfo 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 fo general as at prefent, it must have been no unfrequent practice for those who did not poffefs this accomplishment to gratify their curiofity by liftening while fome better educated perfon read aloud. It is, I think, fcarcely 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 clofe of his work, intreats "alle the Rederes 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 unquef tionably intended hearers in the fense I have fuggefted. HOLT WHITE.

He is my goftly fyre, and oft he hath me taught

What I should doe in things of waight, when I his ayde have fought.

And at this felf fame houre, I plyte you here my faith,

I will be here, if you think good, to tell you what he sayth."
She was contented well; els favour found he none

That night, at lady Juliets hand, fave pleasant woords alone.
This barefoote fryer gyrt with cord his grayish weede,
For he of Francis order was a fryer, as I reede.

Not as the most was he, a groffe unlearned foole,

But doctor of divinetie proceded he in schoole.

The fecrets eke he knew in Natures woorks that loorke;

By magicks arte moft men fuppofed that he could wonders woorke.

Ne doth it ill befeeme devines thofe fkils to know,

If on no harmeful deede they do fuch fkilfulnes bestow;

For juftly of no arte can men condemne the use,

But right and reasons lore crye out agaynft the lewd abuse.

The bounty of the fryer and wisdom hath so wonne

The townes folks harts, that wel nigh all to fryer Lawrence

ronne,

To fhrive themfelfe; the olde, the young, the great and small; Of all he is beloved well, and honord much of all.

And, for he did the reft in wisdom farre exceede,

The prince by him (his counfell cravde) was holpe at time of neede.

Betwixt the Capilets and him great frendship grew,

A fecret and affured frend unto the Montague.

Lovd of this yong man more than any other gefte,

The fryer eke of Verone youth aye liked Romeus beft;

For whom he ever hath in time of his diftres,

As earst you heard, by skilful love found out his barmes redreffe.
To him is Romeus gonne, ne ftayeth he till the morrowe;

To him he painteth all his cafe, his paffed joy and forrow.
How he hath her efpide with other dames in daunce,

And how that fyrft to talke with her him felfe he dyd ad

vaunce;

Their talke and change of lookes he gan to him declare,

And how fo faft by fayth and troth they both y-coupled are,

That neyther hope of lyfe, nor dread 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 goftly fyre

To further and accomplish all their honeft hartes defyre.
A thousand doutes and moe in thold mans hed arofe,

A thousand daungers like to comme the old man doth disclose,

And from the fpoufall rites he readeth him refrayne,
Perhaps he shall be bet advifde within a weeke or twayne.
Advife is banifht quite from those that folowe love,

Except advife to what they like theyr bending mynd do move. As well the father might have counfeld him to stay

That from a mountaines top thrown downe is falling halfe the waye,

As warne his frend to ftop amid his race begonne,

Whom Cupid with his smarting whip enforceth foorth to ronne.
Part wonne by earnest fute, the frier doth graunt at last;
And part, because he thinkes the ftormes, fo lately overpaft,
Of both the housholds wrath, this marriage might appease;
So that they should not rage agayne, but quite for ever cease.
The refpite of a day he asketh to devise

What way were beft, unknown, to end fo great an enterprise.
The wounded man that now doth dedly paynes endure,

Scarce patient tarieth whilft his leeche doth make the falve to

cure:

So Romeus hardly graunts a fhort day and a night,

Yet nedes he muft, els muft he want his onely hartes delight.
You fee that Romeus no time or payne doth spare;
Thinke, that the whilft fayre Juliet is not devoyde of care.
Yong Romeus powreth foorth his hap and his mishap
Into the friers breft ;-but where fhall Juliet unwrap
The fecrets of her hart? to whom shall she unfolde

Her hidden burning love, and eke her thought and care fo colde.
The nurse of whom I fpake, within her chamber laye,
Upon the mayde fhe wayteth ftill ;-to her the doth bewray
Her new-received wound, and then her ayde doth crave,
In her, the faith, it lyes to fpill, in her, her life to fave.
Not easily she made the froward nurce to bowe,

But wonne at length with promeft hyre, the made a folemne

Vowe

To do what the commaundes, as handmayd of her heft;
Her miftres fecrets hide the will, within her covert breft.
To Romeus fhe goes, of him the doth defyre

To know the meane of marriage, by counsell of the fryre.
On Saturday (quod he) if Juliet come to shrift

She fhall be thrived and married:-how lyke you, noorfe, this

drift?

Now by my truth, (quod fhe) God's bleffing have your hart,

For yet in all my life I have not heard of fuch a part.

Lord, how you yong men can fuch crafty wiles devise,

If that you love the daughter well, to bleare the mothers eyes! An eafy thing it is with cloke of holines

To mock the fely mother, that fufpecteth nothing leffe.

But that it pleased you to tell me of the cafe,

For all my many yeres perhaps I fhould have found it scarse.
Now for the reft let me and Juliet alone;

To get her leave, fome feate excufe I will devise anone;
For that her golden lockes by floth have been unkempt,
Or for unawares fome wanton dreame the youthfull damfell
drempt,

Or for in thoughts of love her ydel time she spent,

Or otherwife within her hart deferved to be fhent.

I know her mother will in no cafe fay her nay;

I warrant you, fhe shall not fayle to come on Saterday.

And then the fweares to him, the mother loves her well;
And how the gave her fucke in youth, the leaveth not to tell.
A pretty babe (quod fhe) it was when it was yong;
Lord how it could full pretely have prated with it tong!
A thousand times and more I laid her on my lappe,

And clapt her on the buttocke foft, and kift where I did clappe.
And gladder then was I of fuch a kiffe forsooth,

Then I had been to have a kiffe of fome old lecher's mouth.
And thus of Juliets youth began this prating noorfe,
And of her prefent state to make a tedious long difcourse.
For though he pleasure tooke in hearing of his love,
The meffage aunswer seemed him to be of more behove.
But when these beldames fit at ease upon theyr tayle,

The day and eke the candle light before theyr talke fhall fayle.
And part they say is true, and part they do devise,

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 gave them her;-a flight reward (quod he) and so adiew. In seven yeres twice tolde the had not bowd fo lowe

Her crooked knees, as now they bowe: fhe fweares she will beftowe

Her crafty wit, her time, and all her bufy payne,

To help him to his hoped bliffe; and, cowring downe agayne, She takes her leave, and home the hyes with fpedy pace;

The chaumber doore the fhuts, and then the faith with fmyling

face;

Good newes for thee, my gyrle, good tydinges I thee bring,
Leave of thy woonted fong of care, and now of pleasure fing.
For thou mayft hold thyselfe the happiest under fonne,
That in fo little while fo well fo worthy a knight hast wonne.
The best y-fhapde is he and hath the fayreft face,

Of all this towne, and there is none hath halfe fo good a grace:
So gentle of his fpeeche, and of his counfell wife :-

And ftill with many prayfes more the heaved him to the fkies.