And thou my loving lord, Romeus, my trusty feere, If knowledge yet doe rest in thee, if thou these woordes dost heer, That causd alas! thy violent death, although unwillingly; To thend that no wight els but thou might have just cause to boste Thinjoying of my love, which ay I have reserved Free from the rest, bound unto thee, that hast it well deserved: These said, her ruthlesse hand through gyrt her valiant hart: Ah, ladies, helpe with teares to wayle the ladies dedly smart! She grones, she stretcheth out her limmes, she shuttes her eyes, And from her corps the sprite doth flye;—what should I say? she dyes. The watchmen of the towne the whilst are passed by, And through the gates the candle light within the tombe they spye; That with prepared instruments had opend wide the tombe, Which, by their science ayde abusde, do stand them oft in sted. Then they by certaine steppes descend, where they do fynd below, In clasped armes y-wrapt the husband and the wyfe, In whom as yet they seemd to see somme certaine markes of lyfe. But when more curiously with leysure they did vew, The certainty of both theyr deathes assuredly they knew: In dungeon depe that night they lodgde them under grounde; donne, The great, the small, the riche, the poore, the yong, the olde, (Like as the murders brute abrode through all the towne was blowne) The prince did straight ordaine, the corses that were founde Have murmured, or faynd there were some waighty cause In great reproche set to the shew upon the open stage, His beard as whyte as mylke he bathes with great fast-falling teares: Whom straight the dredfull judge commaundeth to declare Both, how this murther hath been donne, and who the murther ers are; For that he nere the tombe was found at howres unfitte, And had with hym those yron tooles for such a purpose fitte. The judges words appald him not, ne were his wittes to seeche. And then with bold assured voyce aloud thus gan he say: My former passed lyfe, and this my extreme age, And eke this heavy sight, the wreke of frantike Fortunes rage, But that, amased much, doth wonder at this chaunge, So great, so sodainly befalne, unlooked for, and straunge. For I that in the space of sixty yeres and tenne, Since fyrst I did begin, to soone, to lead my lyfe with men, Ne is there any stander by can make me gylty blushe; Myselfe to be the sinfulst wretch of all this mighty presse. My great accompt, which no man els for me shall undertake; Even then, am I, most wretched wight, as eche of you doth thinke, Through my most haynous deede, with hedlong sway throwne downe, In greatest daunger of my lyfe, and damage of renowne. The spring, whence in your head this new conceite doth ryse, (And in your hart increaseth still your vayne and wrong sur mise) May be the hugenes of these teares of myne, percase, You say these present yrons are, and the suspected time: As though all howres alike had not been made above! Did Christ not say, the day had twelve? whereby he sought to prove, That no respect of howres ought justly to be had; But at all times men have the choyce of doing good or bad; As now I deeme, I nede not seeke to make ye understand The thing that hurteth is the malice of his will, That such indifferent thinges is wont to use and order yll, That neither these my piteous teares, though nere so fast they flowe, Ne yet these yron tooles, nor the suspected time, Can justly prove the murther donne, or damne me of the cryme: No one of these hath powre, ne powre have all the three, To make me other than I am, how so I seeme to be. But sure my conscience, if I so gylt deserve, For an appeacher, witnesse, and a hangman, eke should serve ; spare. But to the end I may set all your hartes at rest, And pluck out all the scrupuls that are rooted in your brest, Of this most wofull tragedy, and shew both thend and sourse With strong and patient hart dyd yelde them selfe to cruell death: And of theyr promyst frend shippes fayth so stedy was the troth.” And then the auncient fryer began to make discourse, Even from the first, of Romeus and Juliets amours; How first by sodayn sight the one the other chose, And twixt themselfe dyd knitte the knotte which onely death might lose; And how, within a while, with hotter love opprest, Under confessions cloke, to him themselfe they have addrest; And all thinges peysed well, it seemed meet to bee (For lyke they were of noblenesse, age, riches, and degree); Hoping that so at length ended might be the stry fe Of Montagewes and Capelets, that led in hate theyr lyfe, In secret shrift he wedded them; and they the selfe same night As well doth know (if she be askt) the nurce of Juliet. He told how Romeus fled for reving Tybalts lyfe, And how, the whilst, Paris the earle was offred to his wife; And how to shrift unto his church she came to him agayne; His soule to be spotted somdeale with small and easy cryme, Murther her selfe, and daunger much her seely soule by death: A certain powder gave he her, that made her slepe so sure, With letters sent to Romeus to Mantua is gone; Of whom he knoweth not as yet, what is become; And how that dead he found his frend within her kindreds tombe. And how they could not save her, so they were afeard, And hidde themselfe, dreading the noyse of watchmen, that they heard. VOL. XII. Rr And for the proofe of this his tale, he doth desyer The judge to send forthwith to Mantua for the fryer, And, more beside, to thend that they might judge his cause the better, He prayeth them depose the nurce of Juliet, And Romeus man, whom at unawares besyde the tombe he met. That erst the skilfull fryer said; and eke the wretches name The price of it, and why he bought, his letters plaine have tolde. That they could wish no better proofe, save seeing it with theyr eves: 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 counsell called by Escalus, Here geven advice, 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; In woonted freedome had good leave to lead his lyfe in rest: And, for the paynes he tooke with him, the hangman had his cote. Of fryer Lawrence thus araynde, that good barefooted fryre? Because that many time he woorthily did serve The common welth, and in his lyfe was never found to swerve, He was discharged quyte, and no mark of defame Did seem to blot or touch at all the honour of his name. But of himselfe he went into an hermitage, Two miles from Veron towne, where he in prayers past forth his • age; Till that from earth to heaven his heavenly sprite dyd flye: swage, Nor threatning of the prince, ne mynde of murthers donne, At length, (so mighty Jove it would) by pitye they are wonne. |