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PART I. 



ROMEUS AND lULIET 



ARTHUR BROOKE. 



RHOMEO AND lULIETTA. 



WILLIAM PAINTER. 



EDITED BY 

P. A DANIEL. 



PUBLISHED FOR 

E\ft jgteiD Si^BiOftxt Society 

BY N. TRUBNER & CO., $7. 59, LUDGATE HILL, 

LONDON, E.C., 1875. 




A^ r^obS'1 



Serits HI. Jfo. 1. 



JOHN CllILDd AND SON, PBINTEBS. 



INTRODUCTION. 



-•♦- 



Whether the story of the loves and deaths of Romeo and Juliet, ren- 
dered so famous by Shakespeare's Tragedy, had any foundation in actual 
fact is a matter which will probably ever remain in doubt ; it has been 
much and learnedly discussed, and in no works, with which I am 
acquainted, so exhaustively as in the excellent volume edited by Ales- 
sandro Torri (Pisa, 1831) in which are collected, and annotated, the tales ^ 

of Da Porto, Clitia, and Bandello, together with Historical and Bio- 
graphical notices, and other documents connected with the fate of our 
* paire of starre-crost lovers,' whose actual existence the learned editor 
stoutly maintains. This volume is supplemented with the * Letterc 
Critiche, etc. ' of Filippo Scolari (also a firm believer in the authenticity 
of the Tragedy of Verona) published at Livomo in the same year : to 
them both I am indebted for many of the particulars set forth in these 
pages ; and I strongly commend their works to those who would wish to 
investigate the question. 

With the truthful or fabulous origin of the story, however, I have 
here nought to do, my object being merely to give in as succinct a form 
as possible — as a kind of preface to the two reprints included in this 
volume — some account of the several Novels, Poems, etc. from which it 
is possible that Shakespeare may have derived hints for his Tragedy. But 
first it should be mentioned that Douce, in his * Illustrations of Shak- 
speare,' has suggested that one of the material incidents of the story may 
have been taken by Da Porto, jx&.£rst narrator, from the love adventures 
q( Abroc omas and Anthia as set forth in the Ephesiaca of Xenophon of 
Xphesus, one of the old Greek romance writers. " The heroine of this 
romance, sej>arated by a series of misfortunes from her husband, falls 
into the hands of robbers, from whom she is rescued by a young noble- 
man called Perilaus. He becomes enamoured of her ; and she, fearing 
violence, affects to consent to marry him ; but on the arrival of the 
appointed time, swallows a poisonous draught [as she believes] which 
she had procured from Eudoxus, an old physician and the friend ol 
FfirilP"*^! to whom she had communicated the secret of her history. 
Much lamentation is made for her death, and she is conveyed with great 
pomp to a sepulchre. As she had only taken a sleeping potion, she 
soon awakes in the tomb, which, on account of the riches it contained. 



iv Introduction, 

is plundered by some thieves, who also carry her off." (See Douce, p. 
436, ed. 1839, and Dunlop, * History of Fiction,' ed. 1845, p. 35, col. i ; 
p. 187, coL 2 ; p. 255, col. 2. An English version of the romance 
appeared in London, 1727, by Rooke.) On this Boswell, in his pre- 
liminary remarks to Brooke's poem (Shakspeare ed. 1821, vol.- vi. p. 265), 
observes, ^hat i^ ^hf wholfl Btor}^ of P^'^f^o ^nH jnli^t \^ to be considered 
as,aJir.tinn, it may possibly have had its origin in the tale of Pyrainus 
aijd Thisbe ; and Karl Simrock (* Plots of Shakespeare's Plays,' ed. 
Halliwell, Shak. Soc, 1850) finds that in all essential points, the three 
most noted love-tales of all times : those of Hero and Leander, Pyramus 
md Thisbe^ and Tristan and Isolde, are identical with the story of 
>-and Juliet A more immediate and probable origin of Da Porto's 
story was pointed out by Dunlop in his * History of Fiction ' (first ed. 
1 814) in the novellino, by Massuccio of Salerno, first published at Naples 
in 1476, m a collection of tales (* Le_£anquante Novelle, etc.*), the one 
in question narrating the adventures of Mariotto Mignanelli and Gianozza 
Saraceni of Siena. 

Mariotto and Gianozza smitten with mutual love, and for some reason 
not stated desiring to keep their union a secret from the world, bribe an 
Augustine Friar to perform for them the marriage ceremony. Shortly 
after Mariotto quarrels with another honourable citizen, and, from words 
coming to blows, strikes him on the head with a stick, and so wounds 
him that in the course of a few days he dies. For this deed Mariotto 
is sentenced to perpetual banishment, and flies to Alexandria in Egypt, 
where he takes up his abode with his uncle, a rich merchant, leaving to 
his brother, to whom he confides the secret of his marriage, the care of 
informing him of the course of events in Siena. The uncle sets himself 
to work by means of his correspondents to obtain the pardon of his 
nephew ; but in the mean time Gianozza, who, apparently without cause, 
has refused several advantageous offers of marriage, incurs the anger of 
her father, who insists at last on her consenting to a match he has 
arranged for her. To escape this danger she conceives the idea of 
feigning herself dead, and again has recourse to the Friar, who, though 
at first he hesitates to engage himself in such a perilous design, is at last, 
by the "virtu et incantesmo di Messer San Giovanni bocca d'oro," per- 
suaded to lend his assistance, and, being skilled in the preparation of 
drugs, himself supplies the needed sleeping potion, which has the power 
of suspending animation for the. space oi three days. Gianozza swallows 
the draught, which takes immediate effect, and, being by all judged dead, 
she is buried in the church of the Augustines. From the tomb the 
Friar, with the aid of a trusty companion, removes her to his cell, and 
with him, when she has recovered from the effects of the potion, she sets 
out, disguised as a Friar, to join her husband in Alexandria. Previous 
to this, however, she has despatched letters to Mariotto acquainting him 
with her design ; but the ship which bears her messenger is taken by 
corsairs, he himself is slain, and Mariotto hears of her supposed death. 



Introduction, v 

and that of her father who does not long survive his daughter's loss, from 
his brother. In his despair he resolves not to outlive his wife, and 
returns in disguise to Siena to rejoin her in the tomb. At night he 
conceals himself in the church, and is there taken in an attempt to open 
the vault. Being recognized and submitted to the rack he confesses his 
whole story, and notwithstanding the universal pity his fate excites he 
is condemned to lose his head, a sentence which is soon after carried 
into effect. 

In the mean time Gianozza arrives in Alexandria, makes herself known 
to the uncle, learns from him the departure of her husband, and with him 
in haste also returns to Siena, but only to find that three days before 
their arrival Mariotto has been beheaded. Whereupon with the aid of 
the uncle she obtains admission to a convent and there in a very short 
time dies of grief. " Con intenso dolore & sanguinose lagrime, con poco 
cibo & niente dormire, il suo Mariotto di continouo chiamando in 
brevissimo tempo fini li suvi miserimi giorni." 

So the novel ; but in the * Argomento ' prefixed to it Gianozza is said 
to. die of -^rief on the dead body of her lover, — "la donna . . . trova 
Tamante decoUato, e lei supra al suo corpo per dolore se more.'' From 
this circumstance Torri (whose work I have already referred to) in- 
geniously argues that Massuccio*s story (of the facts of which no memory 
remained in Siena) was founded on a traditional account spread through- 
out Italy of the Verona tragedy, Massuccio varying, according to his 
fancy, the names, the place, and some circumstances of the case.' 

Whether we agree with Torri, or whether we are to suppose, with 
Dunlop, that Da Porto founded his tale of Romeo and Giulietta on that 
of Mariotto and Gianozza, certain it is that we have no direct mention of 
the immortal deaths of our unhappy pair till some time about 1530 
(according to Italian Bibliographers) when, at Venice, without date, 
Luigi Da Porto's " Htstoria novettcunente retrovata di due nobili Amante : 
con la loro pictosa morte intervenuta gik nella citti di Verona nel tempo 
[1301-04] del signor Bartholomeo dalla Scala," first saw the light. Da 
Porto died 10 May, 1529: this first edition of his novel was therefore 
posthumous ; but from a letter dated 9 June, 1524, addressed to him by 
the celebrated Bembo, in which mention is made of " la bella vostra 
Novella," it is inferred that his story of Romeo and Juliet was com- 
pleted at some time previous to that date. It was reprinted, 1535 ; and 
again with certain variations (by whom made is uncertain) in a collection 
of his Poems and Prose pieces, published by Marcolini, Venice, 1539. A 
fourth edition, by G. Griffio, appeared, Venice, 1553. 

Da Porto relates how, when in his youth he followed the profession 
of arms, on one occasion while on a journey, the story of Romeo and 

' It is perhaps worth noting here that a similar discrepancy exists in Boaistuau's 
French paraphrase of Bandello, in which (followed by his English translator Painter) 
in the title to the tale, Juliet is said to die of grief, while in the tale itself she stabs 
herself with Romeo's dagger. See p. 95, and note 4, p. 96. 



VI 



Introduction. 



Giulietta was told to him by one of his guard, a Veronese named Pere- 
grino. The event, he said, happened during the time that Bartolomeo 
dalla Scala reigned in Verona, at which time, though there was still 
enmity between the Capelletti and Montecchi, open acts of violence had 
ceased. To a great festival held by Antonio Capelletti, the head of that 
house, Rgjpeo, a young man of the Montecchi family, masked and dis- 
guised as a nymph, follows his cruel and hard-hearted mistress and there 
ioL. the-4r$t time meets with Giulietta. Their sudden and mutual love 
extinguishes his old flame, and after some nocturnal meetings under 
Qiulietta's window, the lovers resolve on a secret marriage. Friar 
Lorenzo, a learned and much-esteemed monk, is prevailed on to join their 
hands, as much from dread of losing Romeo's friendship and protection 
as in the hope tha^ the marriage may lead to the reconciliation of the 
two families and / t h ereby to.liis..QWA. honQur. y Not long after a street 
brawl occurs between two parties of the opposed factions. Romeo, 
being among the combatants yet bearing his wife in mind, at first 
avoids striking any of her house ; but at last, many on his side being 
wounded, and nearly all driven from the street, overcome with anger he 
attacks and slays Tebaldo Capelletti, the fiercest of his opponents, and 
for tjii^eed is sentenced to perpetual banishmeixt. In concealment in 
the Friar's cell, Romeo, before his departure, has a last interview with 
his wife, who wishes to accompany him disguised as a page ; prudence, 
however, forbids this arrangement, and Romeo sets out for Mantua 
alone, leaving to the Friar and to Pietro (a servant of Giulietta, who has 
acted as their go-between) the care of informing him of all events that 
may occur in Verona, till his repeal from banishment can be obtained 
and he can find occasion to blazon his marriage to the world. Giulietta's 
excessive and, to her parents, unaccountable grief, induces them to 
think -o£ marriage as the only remedy, she having now completed her 
e i ghteent h year. Messer Antonio accordingly enters into negotiations 
with a Count of Lodrone as her bridegroom. Giulietta by means of 
Pietro communicates this intelligence to Romeo, who still urges her to 
concealment of their marriage in the hope that he may shortly be able to 
take her from her father's house. She, however, is hard pushed by her 
parents to consent, and threatened by her father in the event of her dis- 
obedience. In her despair she has recourse to the Friar, who, dreading 
lest his part in the secret marriage should become known, fearful like- 
wise of incurring the enmity of Romeo, and moved with the anguish of 
Giulietta, who avows her determination to put an end to her life unless 
he can devise some means for her relief, g^ves her a powder which ohall 
cause her to appear as dead for about forty-eight hours, and in the mean 
time promises to send a letter, which she is to write, to Romeo acquaint- 
ing him with their position. The design of the Friar being to take her 
from the tomb and keep her in concealment in his cell till she can go 
with him disguised in the habit of his order to Mantua, on the occasion 
of the next meeting of their Chapter at that town. On her return home 



Introduction. rii 

she makes her submission to her father, and the preparations for the 
marriage are proceeded with. AtJUght.Giulietta, complaining of thirst, 
asks one of her handmaidens for water, and putting into it the powder, 
drinks it off declaring that she will never be married against her will. 
In the morning she is found apparently dead on her bed, and, the maids 
now recollecting the powder she had mixed with the water, ^e. is, 
believed to hav e poisoned herself. With great lamentations she is con- 
veyed to the tomb of the Capellets, and Pietro, who is not acquainted 
with the true facts of the case, and cannot meet with the Friar, who is 
for some cause absent from the town, sets off to Mantua with the news 
of her death. In the mean time the letter written by her has been sent 
to Mantua by the Friar, but not delivered to Romeo, the messenger 
having made several fruitless attempts to see him, and Romeo unpre- 
pared hears first from Pietro the sad intelligence. He at first attempts 
to kill himself, but being restrained he dismisses Pietro with a present of 
a brown garment which he wore, and takin^with him some^iQison whi.cb 
lieJiapp£ns ta have by him^ and disguised as a peasant, he sets off for 
Verona alone : arriving there in the night, he enters and shuts himself 
in the tomb, having with him a dark lanthom, by the aid of which he 
contemplates the body of his wife, then swallowing the poison and taking 
Juliet in his arms he awaits the approach of death. By this time 
Giulietta begins to recover from the effects of the sleeping potion, and 
wakes to find herself in the arms of her expiring lover. She at first 
imagines that she has been betrayed by the Friar, but recognizing her 
husband, and learning that he has poisoned himself they mutually lament 
their fate. And now the Friar, accompanied with a trusty companion, 
makes his appearance, and is aghast at the result of his scheme. Romeo 
dies, aDid-Jiilict_r£iusing^o_ leave him casts herself on his.bodyjt and 
hQ^din g h er breath for soma tiin£> at last with. a great cry expires. I n the 
mean time the watch, who have been pursuing a thief, hear the lament- 
ations, and perceiving the light in the tomb come to see the cause. The 
Friar, however, extinguishes the light, and refusing to answer their ques- 
tions, closes the tomb, and with his companion takes refuge in the 
church. Some of the watch acquaint the Capelletti with the suspicious 
circumstances, and urged by them the Prince proceeds to inquire into 
the case ; from the Friar, however, he only obtains equivocatory answers, 
until some of his fellow monks, who bore him no good will, impelled by 
curiosity open the tomb. All is now disclosed, and the Friar now avows 
that his attempts at concealment were prompted by his wish to fulfil the 
last request of the lovers that they should not be separated in death. 
The tragical event leads to the reconciliation of the two families ; the 
funeral obsequies of the lovers are performed with great pomp, and their 
bodies buried in the same tomb. 

Some account of the story seems to have penetrated at an early date 
into France, Adrian Sevin, the translator of Boccaccio's * Philocopo,* 
in his Epistle dedicatory to the "Haulte, excellente & illustre dame. 



viii Introduction. 

Ma dame Qaude de Rohan, Contesse de Sainct Aignan,'' narrates the 
following story as " vne modeme nouelle aduenue puisnaguieres en ma 
presence & au sceu de plusieurs." 

In a town of the Morea called Courron dwelt two noblemen, the one 
named Karilio Humdrum, the other Malchipo. The former had two 
children, a son and daughter named Bruhachin and Burglipha ; the 
latter an only son named Halquadrich. The fathers being on very 
friendly terms brought up their children together ; but both dying at the 
same time of the pest, they left the charge of their children to their wives, 
Kalzandra and Harriaquach. As a matter of course as the children 
grow up Halquadrich and Burglipha fall in love. Burglipha's brother, 
Bruhachin, disapproves of his sister's attachment, and requests Hal- 
quadrich to discontinue his visits ; the result is a quarrel, in which Bru- 
hachin is slain, and Halquadrich saves himself from justice by flight. 
From his place of exile he communicates with Burglipha by letters, and, 
aided by the good offices of his servant, Bostruch, he at last obtains her 
forgiveness of the slaughter of her brother and a renewal of her love. 
Thinking to promote her union with Halquadrich, Burglipha has re- 
course to an old priest, to whom she declares that she will kill herself 
unless he affords her his assistance. The priest remonstrates with her, 
but ultimately consents, and g^ves her a powder which, being drunk in 
white wine, will cause her to appear as dead for twenty-four hours ; his 
design being, when she is brought to him for burial (as was the custom 
in that country), to remove her to his chamber, and, when she has 
recovered from the sleeping draught, to ship her off in disguise to the 
place of Halquadrich's exile. She takes the draught, is supposed dead, 
and is laid out for burial. While this is doing, Bostruch arrives with a 
message from Halquadrich, and finding, as he supposes, Burglipha dead, 
he returns in haste to his master with the news. Halquadrich resolves 
not to outlive his mistress, and applies to an apothecary, from whom he 
obtains a stick of poison ; then, in spite of the advice of his servant and 
of the danger he incurs by his return home, he sets out for the place 
where Burglipha is laid out for burial There, after cursing the Heavens, 
sun, moon, stars, and elements, and lamenting his unhappy lot, he eats 
one half of the poison. Burglipha now awakes, and learning what has 
happened, after some love-making, she begs the other half of the poison 
and eats it so that they may die together, and, in the presence of the 
priest and others who arrive on the scene of the catastrophe, " in dis- 
coursing of and praising their friendship, returning thanks to God for the 
same, and imploring his beatitude to conduct them to his kingdom, they 
gave up their souls in great contentment, joy, and gladness, and their two 
bodies were placed and buried together in a very fine and rich tomb." 

The exclusive right of publication of Sevin's tianslation of *Philocopo' 
is dated 23 Jan., 1541, and the book itself is dated 24 Feb., 1542. 

Dunlop, in his 'History of Fiction' (p. 256, ed. 1845), mentions 
Sevin's work. In his short notice of the story of which I have given an 



Introduction. ix 

abstract, he appears to have mixed up with it a portion of some other 
tale. 

In the same year, IS53» in which the fourth edition of Da Porto's 
story appeared, Gabriel Giolito published in Venice a poem entitled 
" Ulnfelice Amore dei due Fedelissimi Amanti Giulia e Romeo, scritto 
in Ottava Rima da Clitia, nobile Veronese, ad Ardeo suo." 

This is accompanied with the " Rime di Ardeo in morte di Gitia sua." 

Who Clitia and her Ardeo were, or whether any such persons actually 
existed, is unknown. The publisher's somewhat enigmatical dedication 
of the poem has led to the conjecture that its author was Gherardo 
Bolderi. 

At the commencement of the poem * Clitia ' states that one hundred 
and fifty years now are passed since in Verona, while under the govern- 
ment of the Princes of La Scala, were two families, the Capelletti and 
Montecchi, between whom a fierce fcud had existed in times gone by, 
but who then were less at enmity. ^Da Porto and Bandello state that 
the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet Occurred during the government of 
Bartolommeo della Scala, i.^. between 1301-04; the historian Delia 
Corte fixes the precise date at i303._)Clitia's statement therefore would 
seem to fix the date of the composition of her poem, or at any rate the 
date at which the author wished it to be supposed that it was written, 
about 1453, a date of course much earlier than could be claimed for Da 
Porto's, or even Massuccio's, story. Scolari, however (Lettere Critiche, 
note, p. 37), explains that by this statement is only to be understood 
that at the time * Clitia ' wrote (which he supposes to correspond pretty 
closely with the date of publication ; the language and style moreover 
forbidding the supposition of an earlier date), one hundred and fifty 
years had passed since these two families of the Capelletti and Montec- 
chi existed in Verona. I do not care to examine this argument too 
closely, nor perhaps is it necessary to do so, since a comparison of the 
two compositions seems to make it more than probable that the poem 
was founded on Da Porto's story. All the main incidents in both, and 
many of the minor details, are similar. Some variations may, however, 
be pointed out : — Clitia first mentions Tibalt's death as being supposed 
by Lady Capulet the cause of Juliet's grief; Romeo is not made to 
attempt his life when he hears of Juliet's supposed death ; he dismisses 
Pietro with a present of a gold chain he wore about his neck, telling him 
to return to Verona, and to call on the Friar and say that he, Romeo, 
would be with him that same night He does not, however, do so, nor 
is anything more heard of Pietro. Romeo dies in Juliet's arms before 
the arrival of the Friar, who comes alone to the tomb, and the poem 
ends abruptly with the death of Juliet. Clitia also gives the name of Batto 
Tricastro to the Friar, and names the Count Lodrone, Francesco. 

Some account of Citia's poem, with extracts from it, will be found 
in vol. iv. of the * Shakespeare Society's Papers,' published in 1849. It is, 
as I have before mentioned, given in full in Torri*s work. 



X Introduction, 

Ja i$54 Malteo BandeUo, in his collection of Novels published at 
Lucca, gives his story of * Romeo e Giulietta.' — ^** La sfortunata morte di 
dui infelicissimi amanti, che Puno di veleno, e I'altro di dolore morirono, 
con varii accident!.^ 

Bandello while following the main incidents of Da Porto's story, 
varies from it in many minor details : in some he appears to have followed 
Clitia, he amplifies others, not always in the best taste. Roqieo's first, 
unsu ccessful passion, which is merely mentioned in the former story, is 
here dwelt upon, and his motive for attending Capulet's feast is not to see 
his hard-hearted mistress, but, acting on the advice of a friend, by 
examining other beauties to endeavour to destroy her image in his heart. 
He enters masked ; but not dressed as a woman, as in I >a Por to's, story. 
At the breaking up of the party, Juliet learns from her Nurse, who is 
now first introduced, that Romeo is of the house of the Montecchi, and 
this old lady acts the part of go-between to the lovers, while the Pietro of 
Da Porto becomes the servant of Romeo himself. The Conte di Lodrone 
to whom Capulet resolves to marry Juliet is now first named Paris. 
Juliet tdkes the sleeping potion in secret, and is supposed to have diedgf 
gcict The Messenger sent by Friar Lorenzo to acquaint Romeo with 
their design is one of his own order named Anselmo. Entering the 
convent of their order in Mantua, Anselmo is there detained (one of the 
brotherhood having recently died, it was supposed, of the plague), and is 
thus prevented from delivering his message, and Pietro, Romeo's servant, 
brings the news to his master. Instead of simply dismissing him, as in 
Da Porto's story, Romeo sends him back to Verona, ordering him to 
provide the instruments needed for opening the tomb, and to await his 
coming. He then writes letters and settles his affairs in Mantua and at 
night joins Pietro, bringing with him the poison. Together they repair to 
the cemetery ; Romeo enters the tomb, and by the light of a lanthorn 
contemplates the body of his wife ; he then swallows the poison, and 
calling Pietro tells him what he has done, and how he had obtained the 
poison of a certain Spolentino in Mantua ; he gives him a letter to his 
father ; bids him close the tomb, and then taking Juliet in his arms 
awaits his death. Juliet now awakes, and, as in Da Porto, at first sup- 
poses herself betrayed by the Friar. Romeo now first asks forgiveness 
of the dead Tibalt. The Friar arrives alone, and meeting Pietro enters 
the tomb with him in time to receive the last breath of Romeo ; he urges 
Juliet to quit the tomb, but she refuses and dies on the body of her hus- 
band. While the Friar and Pietro, thinking that she has but fainted, 
are endeavouring to restore her, the watch, attracted by the light, make 
their appearance, and being told what has happened, arrest the Friar and 
carry Pietro before the Prince, who, having inquired into the circum- 
stances of the case, and morning Iming now come, repairs to the sepul- 
chre, whither also all Verona flocks. The Friar and Pietro are pardoned ; 
and the bodies of the lovers are buried with great pomp in the same 
tomb. Peace is made between the two families, though it lasted not 



Introduction. x\ 

long. Romeo's father fulfils the last requests of his son as conveyed in 
his letter, and the story concludes with the epitaph engraved on the tomb 
of the lovers. 

gandello's stories soon made their way across the Alps, and in 
15.^. we find Pieae Boaistuau or Boisteau, sumamed Launay, publish- 
ing his * Histoires Tragiques extraictes des CEuvres de Bandel,' in the 
third tale of which he narrates the " Histoire de deux amans dont Tun 
mourut de venin, Tautre de tristesse." Boaistuau does not profess 
to adhere closely to his original ; disliking Bandello's style he accepts 
only the subject of his stories, and recasts and produces them in a new 
form, and we find accordingly in his version of Romeo and Juliet con- 
siderable variations from the Italian.' 

As Painter's translation of Boaistuau forms a portion of this volume it is 
unnecessary here to do more than point out the chief of these variations. 
He Jirst introduces the scene with the poor Apothecary from whom 
Romeo purcha ses t he pojsiai. When the Friar and Pietro enter the 
tomb they find Romeo already dead and Juliet still sleeping : she 
awakes, and finding her husband dead refuses to quit the tomb, where- 
upon the Friar and Pietro,. alarmed by some noise, depart, and she then 
stabs herself with Romeo's dagger. The watch arrive, see what has 
happened, azid discover and carry ofif to prison the Friar and Pietro. The 
Prince and other inhabitants of the town being apprised of the occurrence 
proceed to view the dead bodies, which are then placed in view of all on 
lofty stage, while the Friar narrates at length the whole story. -Hq 
aid Pif *^''Q ^^^ par^?."^ j the.^turse- banished for her part in the affair, 
and the A po ^^ecary being tak^n is nir\t and hanged. The bodies of 
the unhappy lovers are enclosed in the tomb in which they ended their 
lives, an±tliii.is greeted on a high marble column, and honoured with an 
infinity of excellent epitaphs. 

These * Histoires Tragiques,' etc. were published in Paris* in 1559 in 
two vols. 8vo, the first containing six tales by Boaistuau, the second 
containing twelve additional tales by Francois de Belle- Forest, Com- 
mingeois. Boaistuau acknowledges much assistance from Belle- Forest 

' " Sa phrase m'a sembM tant rade. ses tennes inipropres,ses propos tant mal liez, 
ft ses sentences tant maigres, que i'ay eu plus cher la refondre tout de neuf, et la 
remettre en nouvelle forme, que me rendre si superstitieux imitateur : n'ay&t (eule- 
ment pris de luy que le subject de I'histoire. comme tu pourras ais^ment descouvrir, si 
tu es curieux de conferer mon stile avec le sien." — Boaistuau. Preface. 

As I have given here Boaistuau's opinion of Bandello, an opinion in which Belle- 
Forest entirely concurs, it is, perhaps, only fair to the Italian novelist to add the fol- 
lowing note on the ' Histoires Tragiques,' which I have extracted from Brunet's 
' Manuel du Libraire ' : 

" Voici le jugement que porte de cette traduction I'abbd de Saint-Leger, dans une 
de ses notes sur Du Verdin- : ' Belleforest a gat^ le Bandel par les additions et les 
changements qu'il a fait k ses nouvelles italiennes ; aussi la traduction franfaise est- 
elle tr&s ennuyeuse et tr^ d^odtante, tandis que loriginal italien est fort agr^able k 
lire.'" 



Xll 



Introduction. 



in his portion of the work. By ' Privilege du Roi/ dated 17 Jan., IS58, 
Vincent Sertenas was granted exclusive right of publication for six years 
' 4 compter du jour & date qu'ils seront acheuez d'imprimer/ and a note 
in the 2nd vol states that the printing was finished on the 28th of 
August, 1559. This is, according to Brunet^ the earliest edition j there 
were many subsequent reprints. 

From Boaistuau's novel Arthur Brooke now produced his long^ 
metrical version of the story, first published by Richard Tottill in 1 562, 
as "The Tragicall Historye of Romeus and Juliet, written first in 
Italian by Bandell, and now in Englishe by Ar. Br." 

QrookeJake&~in. the. whole of Boaistuau's novel and amplifies and adds 
taihe-detaUs. The Nurse's character is especially developed ; the inci- 
dent of her receiving a present of money from Romeus is introduced, and 
when Paris is proposed to Juliet for her husband, the Nurse counsels her 
to accept him. Brooke also introduces the scene of Romeo's despair in 
the Friar's cell after the fatal affray in which Tibalt is slain, and he 
changes the name of the Friar who is charged with the letter for Romeo 
from Anselmo to John. In short, Brooke's poem contains whole scenes, 
and many details and forms of expression, adopted by Shakespeare, not 
found in any other known version of the story, and on these grounds must, 
according to Malone, be accepted as the dasis on which the play was 
built. 

In his variorum edition of Shakspeare's Works, 1821, Malone has noted 
many points of resemblance between the poem and the play ; Skottowe, 
in his " Life of Shakspeare ; enquiries into the originality of his dramatic 
plots, etc.," 1824, has also to some extent gone over the same ground, 
and many editors have followed suit : the poem which is here reprinted 
in full will best enable the reader to satisfy his curiosity on the subject ; 
and to facilitate its study, I have, taking Malone's notes as my basis, 
drawn up a rough list of the passages which invite comparison, arranging 
them in the order of the acts and scenes of Shakespeare's Play. 

SHAKESPEARE — BROOKE. 

ACT I. SCENE I. 

Lines 59-67. Benvolio endeavours to part the combatants. Compare, 
in Brooke, Romeo's interference, 999-1014. 

Lines 76-98. The interference of the Prince to part the fray. Brooke, 
41-48, 1045, 1049-50. 

Line 97. " To old Free-towne, our common iudgement place." Fr^^- 
town is Brooke's translation of Villa franca, _Iii Brooke^ as in the other' 
nai:nitors of the story, ViUa-franca or Free-town is the country seat of 
tb&Capulets. Shakespeare alone makes it the ''judgment place of the 
Prince." Brooke, 1974, 2258. 

Lines 11 3- 150. Romeo's melancholy humour. Compare, in Brooke, 




Introduction. xiii 

Romeo in banishment at Mantua, 1743-80, and Lady Capulet's account 
of Juliet, 1823-34. 

Lines 155-233, and, in Scene 2, lines 44-55, 82-101. Romeo's love 
for Rosaline and Benvolio's advice to him. Compare, in Brooke, lines 
53-150, 207.208, 1338, 195. 

SCENE 2. 

Capulet's interview with Paris. Shakespeare introduces Paris as 
a suitor for the hand of Juliet thus early in the play ; in the poem 
no mention is made of him till after the banishment of Romeo, when 
Juliet's parents seek him out as a husband for their daughter. Brooke, 
1857-86. 

Lines 20-33. Capulet's advice to Paris. Brooke, 148-50, 16061, 
163-64. 

Lines 34-36. Capulet's invitation of guests. Brooke, 159-62. The \ 
circumstance of Capulet's writing down the names of the guests whom ) 
he invites to supper is found only in the poem and in the play. ^ 

SCENE 3. 

Lady Capulet, Juliet and the Nurse. The hint for the Nurse's 
portion of this scene would seem to have been derived from lines 652-3, 
659-60 of Brooke's Poem. 

Lines 81-94. Lady Capulet's praise of Paris. Brooke, 1893-97. 

SCENE 5. 

Capulet's assembly. Compare in Brooke, lines 165-364. 

Lines 40, 41. '' What Ladies that, which doth enrich the hand | Of 
yonder knight ? " Brooke, 246. 

Lines 1 16-17. *' Is she a Capulet? | O deare account ! my life is my 
foes debt" Brooke, 323-5. 

Lines 128-37. Juliet inquires of the Nurse the names of the guests. 
Brooke, 344-54. 

CHORUS. 

Line 3. "That faire, for which loue gronde for and would die." 
Brooke, line 204. 

Line 8. "And she steale loues sweete bait from fearful hookes." 
Brooke, 219, 388. 

ACT II. SCENE 2. 

Romeo's interview with Juliet — the balcony scene. Brooke, 467-564. 

Line 23. " See, now she leanes her cheeke vpon her hand 1 " Brooke, 
467-68, 518. 

Lines 64-65. " And the place death, considering who thou art, | If any 
of my kinsmen find thee here." Brooke, 491-93. 

Line 66. "With loues light wings did I orepearch these walls." 
Brooke, 829-31. 

Lines 125-6. " O, wilt thou leaue me so, unsatisfied," etc Brooke, 
563-4- 



xiv Introduction, 

Lines 143-151. " If that thy bent of loue be honourable/' etc. Brooke, 
535-44. 

SCENE 3. 

At Friar Lawrence cell. Brooke, 565-616. The character of the 
Friar is here represented much as in Shakespeare. For special lines of 
this scene we must search elsewhere in the poem. 

Line 16. " In Plants, hearbes, stones," etc. Brooke, 2 109- 11. 

Lines 75-6. '^ Lo, here vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit | Of an old 
teare that is not washt off yet." Brooke, 2557-58. 

Lines 92-3. " For this alliance,** etc. Brooby, 608-1 a 

SCENE 4. 

Benuolio and Mercutio ; then Romeo, and subsequently the Nurse and 
her man Peter. For the first part of this scene there is no corresponding 
passage in Brooke ; if we except perhaps Mercutio's character of Tibalt, 
lines 19-24 ; Brooke, 963-66. For the Nurse's chat with Romeo, com- 
pare in Brooke lines 631-673. 

Lines 157-162. " Bid her devise," etc. Brooke, 631-34, 667-68. The 
y incident of the present of money to the Nurse is found in Brooke only. 

Line 166. "And bring thee cordes made like a tackled stay re." 
Brooke, 774-5. 

Line 177. " When 'twas a little prating thing." Brooke, 653-4. 

SCENE 5. 

The Nurse returns to Juliet after her interview with Romeo. Brooke, 
673-692, 703-4. 

Line 46. " What says he of our marriage." Brooke, 684. 

SCENE 6. 

At the Friar's cell. Romeo and Juliet meet to be married. Brooke, 
719-778. 

ACT III. SCENE I. 

The fatal Affray in which Mercutio and Tybalt are slain. Brooke, 
955-1050. 

Line 158. " Hold friends," etc. Brooke, 999. 

Line 165, "And toote they go like lightning." Brooke, 1031-33. 

SCENE 2. 

Juliet hears from the Nurse of Romeo's banishment. For this scene 
compare in Brooke, lines 107 5- 1256. 

Lines 1-4. " Gallop apace," etc. Malone notes that Shakespeare 
" probably remembered yLarlowe*sICing Edward//,, which was performed 
before 1593 : 

* Gallop apace, bright Phoebus, through the sky ; 
And, dusky Night, in rusty iron car. 



I/droduction. xv 

Between you both shorten the time, I pray, 
That I may see that most desired day.' " 

This passage occurs p. 208, Dyce's one-voUime ed. of Marlowe, 2nd 
coL Dyce in his Introduction, remarks : — 

" Warton (Hist of Engl Poet. iii. 438, ed. 4to) incidentally mentions 
that Marlowe's Edward the Second was * written in the year 1 590 ; ' and, 
for all we know, he may have made the assertion on sufficient grounds, 
though he has neglected to specify them. Mr Collier, who regards it 
(and, no doubt, rightly) as one of our author's latest pieces, has not 
attempted to fix its date. It was entered in the Stationers' Books, 6th 
July, IS93, and first printed in IS98." 

Malone also notes the following passage : — " The day to his seem- 
ing passed away so slowely that he had thought the stately steeds had 
bin tired that drawe the chariot of the Sunne, . . . and wished that 
Phaeton had beene there with a whippe." This passage occurs in the 
* Historie of Apolonius and Silla,' the story on which Shakespeare is 
supposed to have founded 'Twelfth Night.' It is in Bamabie Riche 
*his Farewell to Military profession,' first printed in 1583, and re- 
printed in Preliminary remarks to * Twelfth Night,' vol. xi. Variorum ed., 
1 82 1, and in Collier's * Shakespeare's Library.' 

Line 92. " Upon his brow shame is asham'd to sit." On this Steevens 
notes :— " So, in Painter's Palace of Pleasure [p. 104, L 2-4 ] : — * Is it pos- 
sible that under such beautie and rare comelinesse, disloyaltie and treason 
may have their siedge and lodging ? ' The image of shame sitting on the 
brow is not in the poem." Boswell remarks (justly I think) that in this 
passage " there is no very striking resemblance to Shakspeare." 

Lines 98-9. " Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall SQiooth thy name," 

etc. Brooke, 1145-54, 

SCENE 3. 

Romeo in concealment at the Friar's cell This scene has no counter- 
part except in Brooke, 1257-15 11. 

Line 68. — "then mightst thou teare thyhayre," etc. Brooke, 1291-2, 
1295-6. 

Line 109. " Art thou a man ? " etc. Brooke, 1353-58. 

Line 119. "Why rayl'st thou on thy birth," etc. Brooke, 1325-28, 
1343, 1429-30. Malone points out that in the Play "Romeo has not 
railed on his birth, etc., though in his interview with the Friar as 
described in the Poem, he is made to do so. Shakspeare copied the 
remonstianc£,oLthe Fri^, without reviewing the former part pf his sjrene. 
He has in, other places fallen into a similar inaccuracy, by sometimes ^ 
following a^ d gnrnpfftyifte /i^eo..»;»g kic A«4^rww4 *»- 

SCENE 5. 

The parting of Romeo and Juliet Brooke, 15 27- 172a 
Lines 7-10. — "looke, loue, what enuious streaks," etc. Brooke, 
1703-14. 



zn 



Intruducti 






Lines 6^-^06. Tfat TJntry of Capolc: and his th^ to ^upu a t 4k 
loazrtagetif Juliet widi Paris. Brooke. 18P7- 1994. 

linee 7^72- ** E-uermore w e q ai ug.^ etc Broofcc:. 1211-ii, TT^i^-gE. 

Line J30. '^ Hov noir ! a Condnxu gnir r '' etc Brools. i4fiz. i&]§^ 

Lines 1B3-9E. — '^ sdD my care haiii bene ] To Isaac her xnatciiL,'' etc 
Brooke, 1961-^4. 

Lines 207'-24S' 'The Nnrse ctRmsek Jiiliei to mauj Pais. 
2288-2312. Tliis xnadem is found is Bnxils: fmh*. 



ACT IT, scaact 1- 

At 'te Friar's cell The Friar and Coxmtie Pans : tHwi JWfat, For 
"file !firBt part of 4iis scene dcvs to liie d eyupim e of Paris liiere s no 
c o rre&j>onding parage in firDclce or anj of ft»t odier Tt M tT i^if ir > of ihe 
stonr. Tike mbstanoe of liie sn bsequ ent pocnac of fbt scene is ioimd in 
all In Brooke, see Ix&es 2005-2192. 

Line lOy. *" Tbon sfaali cantmne two and fame bonres." Bmnb does 
xkol znenDOD liie time vixiiii liie sleeping draogic is to hoQd jnlieL 
Steepens xkacs as proof tbai Sba3ce^Kzre consolied Painter, ihat in 
Painter it is said to be ^ fortr bonrcs ai tbe leasL'' On t^^ Bosvdl 
remaiia, ^ altbongb tbe nmniber of boors . . . are nsi fyrrxfiffd in ibe 
poem, Td enoD^ is said to make ii eashr inferred, viusi ve are told 
tbal two rrights after, tbe Friar and Romeo were to repair to tbe sepol- 
cbre.* Da Porto \asf^rtjhag^ kfiwrs; Q^aok^twp days; RnvtVno and 
Boaistnan mbcmi f^rfy hsmrs; Groto, in ' La Hadriana,^ ehimi jsrUrm 
hours. 

Line i la ''In tbr best ro^xs mconesd od tbe Becre.* For tbis 
incident Brooke is tbe OD}r ambcvitr, 2523-25. 



Capulet grres directios» for tbe marriage feast JsLet irtuMiH ii ^tsn 
tbe Friar makes ber sol»ni»ao&. 

Lane 2. — '^ go hire me tvcntae mrniTi^ Cookes.' * Tioemtr cnoksfpr 
kal/^-dnem quests / EiAer Capokt has altered bis mind sxxangdr, or 
our antbor forgot vbat be bad josl made him tell as (Aa III. Sc ir. 
23-28).* — ^RxtsoQ. '** This arose from bis sometimes fo&oving ai^ same> 
times deserting bis originaL Tbe scene referred to, was lusovn in veDtson, 
but be has here reooOected tbe poem.**— Malooe. Baxike, 22SS-S& 

Une 1$ to ezML Enter Jobet. Brooke, 2191-2256. 

Une 24. ^ lie bane tbis kiaot knit up.*' Bxookc. 2276 



SCESE. 3. 



Jube^s cbamber 
requests to be left 

Lines 14 to 
Brooke, 2337-2402. 



Jnfiet aiMl die Norse ; then Ladj Capokt. Jnbet 
Brooke, ^^ly^ 
Juliet alone. She takes die sleeping dnu^gbt. 



Introduction. xvii 

SCENE 5. 

fuliet discovered apparently dead. Lines 1-96. Brooke, 2403-72. 
Lines 32-3. " Death, that hath tane her hence to make me waile, 
Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake.*' 

" Our author has here followed the poem closely, without recollecting 
that he has made Capulet, in this scene, clamorous in his g^ief. In the 
Poem Juliet's mother makes a long speech, but the old man utters not a 
word." — Malone. Brooke, 2451-54, 

Line 42. " Haue I thought long/' etc. Brooke, 2274. 

Line 66. The Friar offers consolations. The Friar takes no part in 
this scene in the Poem. Walker in his notice of Groto's * Hadriana ' has 
pointed out the coincidence in this scene of the two tragedies. 

Lines 81-2. — " and, as the custome is, | And in her best array, beare 
her to Church." Brooke, 2523-25 (as in Act IV. Sc. i, 1. no). 

Lines 85-91. "All things that we ordained festiuall,*' etc. Brooke, 
2507-14. In Brooke only, of all the narrators of the story. 

ACT V. SCENE I. 

Romeo at Mantua. Balthazcr brings the news of Juliet's death. 
Romeo purchases poison of the Apothecary. Brooke, 2515-88. 

Line 18. "Her body sleepcs in Capels monument." "Shakspeare 
found Capcl and Capulet used indiscriminately in the poem which was 
the groundwork of this tragedy." — Malone. Capels once, line 157, else- 
where Capilet and Capelet : Capulet only in Shakespeare. 

Lines 25-6. — "get me ink and paper, | And hire post horses." 

Brooke, 2604, 2612. 

SCENE 2. 

Friar John returns the letter to Friar Lawrence and accounts for its 
non-delivery. Brooke, 2473-2503, 2955-57. The name of Friar John is 
only found in Brooke and Shakespeare : in the other tales, where he is 
named, it is Ansclmo or Anselme. In the poem and other tales, origin- 
ating with Bandello, the messenger (Anselmo) is shut up in the convent 
of his order at Mantua. The letter with which he is charged is not 
returned to Friar Lawrence. I have pointed out in my account of 
Groto's * Hadriana ' the coincidence in this respect between the two 

plays. 

SCENE 3. 

In the Churchyard, before the tomb of the Capulets. Brooke, 
2614 to end. The introduction of Paris in this scene and his death by 
Romeo's hand are circumstances found only in Shakespeare ; in other 
respects it will be seen that the incidents of the poem are pretty closely 
followed in the play. 

Lines 92-3. " Death, that hath suckt the honey of thy breath, 
Hath had no power yet vpon thy bewtie.** 

BHOMEO. h 



xviii Introduction. ^ 

.- ft *^ 
So in Daniers * Complaint of Rosamond ' : — 

** Decayed roses of discoloured cheeks 
Do yet retain some notes of former grace, 
And ugly cUaih sits f aire within hsrfaceJ* 

Noted by Malone. 

Lines 94-6. " bewties ensigne yet 

Is crymson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
And deaths pale flag is not aduanced there." 

So in * Complaint of Rosamond ' : — 

^ And nought respecting death (the last of paines) 
Plac'd \iv&paU colours (tWensign of his might) 
Upon his new-got spoil," etc. Noted by Steevens. 

Lines 102-3. " Why art thou yet so faire ? shall I beleeue 

That vnsubstantiall death is amorous ; " etc. 

So in ' Complaint of Rosamond ' : — 

" Ah, now methinks, I see derttk dallying seeks 
To entertain itself e in lav^s sweete place" 

Noted by Malone. 

Lines 112- 15. " Eyes, looke your last ! 

Armes, take your last embrace ! And lips, O you 
The doores of breath, scale with a righteous Idsse 
A dateless bargaine to ingrossing death ! " 

" So in * Complaint of Rosamond ' : — 

* Pitiful mouth, said he, that living gavest 
The sweetest comfort that my soul could wish 
O, be it lawful now, that dead, thou havest 
The sorrowing farewell of a dying Idss ! 
And you, fair eyes, containers of my bliss. 
Motives of love, bom to be matched never, 
Entomb'd in your sweet circles, sleep for ever ! ' 

I think there can be little doubt, from the foregoing lines and the other 
passages already quoted from this poem, that our author had read it 
recently before he wrote the last Act of the present tragedy." — Malone. 

These passages from Daniel's poem are quoted by Malone and 
Steevens from the ed. 1 594. Malone, in his Essay on the Chronological 
Order of the Plays (p. 348, vol. ii. Variorum Shakspeare, 1821), repeats 
the opinion given above, and states his belief that the ' Complaint of 
Rosamond ' was printed in 1592 : '' ' A booke called Delia, containynge 
diverse sonates, with the Compiainte of Rosamonde^ was entered at 
Stationers' Hall by Simon Waterson,in Feb. 1 591-2, and the latter piece 
is commended by Nashe in a tract entitled Pierce Pennilesse his Sup- 
plication to the Divell, published in 1592." See also p. 40 Collier's reprint 



Introduction, xix 

of this tract, and his note thereon p. 99, ' Shakespeare Soc. Publications/ 
1842. 

Brooke's poem was again entered in the books of the Stationers 
Company in 1582, but, if published, no copy of the edition is known to 
be in existence. It was reprinted by R. Robinson in 1587 as "The 
Tragicall historie of Romeus and Juliet, contayning in it a rare example 
of true constancie : with the Subtill Counsels and practises of an old 
Fryer, and their ill euent." 

In modem times it has been several times reprinted, notably in 
Malone's Variorum ed. of Shakspeare's works, 1821 ; in Collier's Shake- 
speare's Library ; and in Halliwell's folio ed. of Shakespeare. 

The original is in black letter, each line printed as two ; in our 
reprint the lines are given at full length, the division being marked with 
a /. It has been carefully compared with the rare first edition in the 
Bodleian Library by Mr Geo. Parker, who is responsible for its accuracy. 

It should be added that, in preparing it for the press, a copy of Mr 
Collier's reprint has been used. At the end I have added a list of the 
various readings gathered from the editions above referred to. 

In 1567, William Painter in the 2nd vol. of his * Palace of Pleasure ' 
produced " The goodly Hystory of the true and constant Loue between 
Rhomeo and lulietta, the one of whom died of Poyson, and the other of 
sorrow and heauiness : wherein be comprysed many aduentures of Loue, 
and other deuises touchinge the same." Painter's version is a pretty close 
but not very intelligent translation of Boaistuau's novel : he chiefly 
differs from his original in duplicating terms, as was the fashion with 
English writers of his period ; and occasionally, but rarely, he introduces 
a simile of his own ; otherwise he adds nothing to the tale as told by 
Boaistuau ; and though doubtless Shakespeare had read his translation, 
there does not appear in the play any incident or expression that can be 
specially traced to it ; while between Brooke's poem and the Play, the 
resemblances are frequent and striking : its chief value consists in its 
presenting the English reader with the version (errors apart) of the story 
on which Brooke founded his poem. 

The editions of the * Palace of Pleasure * are as follows : 
Vol. I. : 

1st ed. 26 Jan. 1566. Printed by H. Denham for R. Tottell and VV. 
Jones. 

2nd ed. 1 569. Printed by Thos. Marshe. 

3rd ed. 1575. n i> >i 

Vol. il: 

1st ed. 8 Nov. 1567. Printed by H. Bynneman for Nic. England. 

2nd ed. N.D. Printed by Thos. Marshe. 

In the 3rd ed. of vol. i. " Seven novels were added to the former 
number, and the language improved." — Haslewood. 

In the 2nd ed. of vol. ii. " The Translator added one historic tale and 
made material alterations in the text." — Haslewood. 



XX 



Introduction. 



Foi these reasons, apparently, when in 1813 Mr J. Haslewood re- 
printed the entire work he chose the 3rd ed. of vol. i. and the 2nd ed. of 
vol. ii. as the basis of his text, comparing it, however, with that of the 
first editions, from which source, says he, " several obscure passages 
have been corrected, and whole sentences restored, which in the last 
edition appear to have been negligently omitted in the hurry of the 
press." 

With respect to the date of the 2nd ed. of vol. ii., Haslewood adduces 
reasons to prove that it could not have been later than 1580 : the * His- 
toric Tale ' added to it is a relation of the murder by Sultan Solyman of 
his eldest son Mustapha : this event happened in 1553 and was narrated 
in Latin by Nicolaus a Moffan, a soldier serving under Charles the Fifth 
and sometime prisoner among the Turks. Moffan's narrative was first 
published at Basle in November, 1555. In his introduction to this tale 
Painter says : — " Twenty-two yeares past or thereabouts I translated this 
present Hystory out of the Latine tongue. And for the rarenes of the 
fact, and the disnaturall part of that late furiouse Enemy of God, and his 
Sonne Christ : I dedicated the same to the right honorable, my speciall 
good Lord, with al vertues, and nobility, fully accomplyshed, the Lord 
Cobbattty Lordc Warden of the cinque Portes, by the name of Sir William 
Cobham Knight. And bycause I would haue it to continue in mans 
remembraunce thereby to renue the auncient detestation which we 
haue, and our Progenitors had against that horrible Termagant, and 
Persecutor of Christyans, I haue insinuated the same amongs the rest oi 
these Nouels." 

The Lord Cobham here referred to succeeded to his title on the 29th 
Sept. 1558: the translation and dedication therefore, mentioned by 
Painter, must have been made between this date and the date of Moffan's 
narrative, Nov. 1555. Taking then into consideration his statement as to 
the " twenty-two years," the date to be assigned to the 2nd ed. of vol. ii. 
would be some period between 1577 — 1580, Mr Collier, however (Biblio- 
graphical Catalogue, 1865), considers that it came out, like the 3rd ed. of 
the 1st vol., in 1575. The " thereabouts " of Painter's statement is per- 
haps sufficiently indefinite to justify this conclusion. 

I have been particular as to the date of the 2nd ed. of vol. ii. of 
Painter's work as it is perhaps connected with the subject of this volume, 
and it is therefore satisfactory to know that it must have been in exist- 
ence at least ten years before the earliest date (1591) that has been 
assigned to Shakespeare's Play. Malone has sufficiently demonstrated 
that where Brooke and Painter, who so largely agree in their version of 
Romeo and Juliet, do differ, the play usually follows Brooke ; and it may 
not perhaps be unreasonable to conjecture that the defects of Painter's 
second edition of the tale (supposing it, rather than the first edition, to 
have been in Shakespeare's possession) may have had some influence in 
inducing his preference for Brooke's poem. 

However this may be, the 2nd edition is clearly a revised edition, and 



Introduction, 



XXI 



therefore to be adopted as the basis of a reprint ; though its careless 
printing necessitates the exercise of large discretionary powers on the 
part of an editor. Haslewood with the aid of the first edition corrected 
most of its errors, though not all, as my notes will show. Collier's 
edition of the * Rhomeo and lulietta ' was apparently printed from Hasle- 
wood, with a few slight alterations introduced from the first edition. 
Halliwell reprinted Collier. In preparing the present edition for the 
press I have made use of a copy of Collier's reprint, collating it literatim 
with the 2nd N.D. edition, and verbatim with the ist, 1567. 

I have also compared Painter's text with the French original, and have 
noted such passages as seemed of interest for the comparative study of 
Brooke and Painter : these shew, I think, that in many places Brooke's 
metrical version is a more faithful rendering of the original than is 
Painter's prose translation, and indeed in some places make it manifest 
that Painter's knowledge of the tongues sometimes failed him, to the 
confusion of his readers, as where he makes Romeo moisten instead of 
swallow the amorous venom, etc. (p. 100, 1. 19), and tells us that a 
cold sweat pierced Juliet's heart instead of her skin (p. 130, 1. 31). They 
also I think prove that he must occasionally have consulted Brooke, as, 
for instance, in the following passages in which he seems to have 
adopted from Brooke expressions not found in Boaistuau : 

le demeure la fable du peuple. — Boaistuau 

The peoples tale and laughing stocke / shall I remayne for aye. 

Brooke, 2364. 

I shall remayne a Fable & iesting stocke to the People. 

Painter, p. 130, 1. 17-18. 

Painter, or his printer, omits dr* iesting stocke in the 2nd ed. 

La pauure femme chantoit aux sourds. — Boaistuau. 

But wele away, in vayne / vnto the deafe she calles. 
She thinks to speake to Juliet, / but speaketh to the walles. 

Brooke, 2409-10. 
The poore olde Woman spake vnto the Wall, and sang a song vnto 
the deafe. — Painter, p. 131, 1. 12-14. 

We must now retrace our steps to Italy where, sometime in 1578 (the 
date of the dedication to his drama) the blind poet and actor, Luigi 
Groto, sumamed il Cieco d'Hadria, produced his tragedy, *La Hadriana.' 
J. C. Walker in his * Historical Memoir on Italian Tragedy,' 1799, 
gives some account of this author and of his works, together with a brief 
outline of the plot of the tragedy mentioned above, and some extracts 
from it, in which he fancied he detected such resemblances with Shake- 
speare's Romeo and Juliet as to justify the opinion that Sh. must have 
read with profit Groto's work. As this opinion has been received with 
some favour by subsequent commentators I have thought it might be 
worth while to give here a more detailed view of the Tragedy than is 



xxn Introduction. 

supplied by Walker ; merely premising that Walker abundantly proves, 
what indeed must be patent to any one who undertakes the perusal of ' La 
Hadriana,' that Groto for his play has frequently borrowed both thoughts 
and incidents from * La Giulietta ' of Da Porto. 

LA HADRIANA. 

Prologue enters to tell the audience that the scene of the Tragedy 
to be presented is laid m ancient times in the then glorious city of Adria, 
from whose annals the story is derived ; then, seeing the Princess 
Hadriana and the Nurse ready to enter, he directs attention to them and 
departs. 

ACT I. SCENE I. 

Hadriana and Nurse. From their conversation we learn that Mezen- 
tio, king of Latium, is besieging the city ; that Hadriana's father, King 
Hatrio, has that morning sallied forth with his army to attack the foe ; 
that her mother. Queen Orontea, accompanied with her ladies, has 
ascended a high tower to behold the fight. Hadriana seizes the oppor- 
tunity to confide to her Nurse the secret of her love for Latino, son of 
Mezentio. She narrates how, on the arrival of the hostile force, she 
beheld, from the walls, the gallant young prince, and was at once smitten 
with love. Resolving to make known to him her affect ion, she had con- 
fided its secret to the Great Mago, Priest of the Moon, prompted thereto 
by the fact that the Mago, in conversation with Queen Orontea, had 
suggested that peace between the two kingdoms might be brought about 
by a matrimonial alliance. The Mago had at once promised his assist- 
ance, and, being privileged to pass between the hostile forces, had sought 
out Latino, and, finding that the Prince had also fallen in love with 
Hadriana on the occasion above referred to, had, on several occasions, 
introduced him in secret into the town, where, in the gardens of the 
Palace, with the connivance of her maid, Hadriana and the Prince had 
had several interviews, and exchanged vows of love. Her maid, however, 
having that day been accidentally killed, Hadriana now confides her 
secret to the Nurse, and begs for counsel and assistance. 

Tu che si spesso alhor, ch'io pargoletta 
Stava per trabocca, man mi porgesti ; 
Porgimi hora consiglio, ond'io non cada. 

The Nurse remonstrates with her on the imprudence of her conduct, but 
finally consents to keep counsel ; then — 

SCENE 2. 

Enter to them Queen Orontea, who has left her post of observation, 
not being able to endure the sights of death presented by the battle, all 
the arrangements of which she describes at length. And now— 



Introduction. 



XXIll 



SCENE 3. 

A Messenger arrives, who brings to the Queen the news of victory, 
but also tells her of the death of her only son, mortally wounded in 
single combat with Latino. The unfortunate young prince, disobeying 
his father Hatrio's commands, had, it seems, issued from the town dis- 
guised in unknown armour, and, joining the army, had singled out and 
attacked Latino. Their combat had for a while held the two armies in 
suspense, but its result, and the discovery of the rank of the defeated 
knight, filling the army of King Hatrio with rage, they had attacked with 
fury Mezentio and his host, and repulsed them with great slaughter. 
The Messenger describes the last moments of the dying prince, who 
sends to his mother and sister the bloody shirt in which he was wounded 
as a memento that they should never cease to seek out means to revenge 
his death. The Queen, overcome with grief, departs, and Hadriana 
laments with the Nurse the unhappy course of events. The Nurse 
endeavours to console her : 

Nel perder de lo sposo hai questo bene, 
Che puoi dolerti almanco apertamente, 
£ sotto vista d'un pianger un' altro. 

The Chorus concludes the Act, describing the grief of the parents and 
friends of the dead prince, and the horrible state of the battle-field, 
loaded with dead bodies left as a prey to birds and wild beasts. 

ACT II. SCENE I. 

Latino solus. In a long soliloquy we learn that he has found means 
to enter the town, and now waits in the garden of the Palace at the usual 
hour in hopes of meeting with Hadriana, who accordingly, in 

SCENE 2, 

makes her appearance to receive such explanations and excuses for the 
death of her brother as Latino can offer her, which he proceeds to do in 
a speech of about 350 lines, without a break. In it we learn that his 
father, King Mezentio, has retreated to the confines of the kingdom, 
from whence he may quickly retire to his own realm with the relics of 
his army, in collecting which Latino has returned near to Adria, and 
has taken the opportunity to meet with Hadriana. In conclusion he 
offers his sword to his mistress, and places his life in her hands, only 
regretting that, in killing him, she cannot also destroy all the other 
witnesses to their love, so that her fair fame may run no danger of 
ill report hereafter. Hadriana accepts his excuses, and bids him live ; 
she then calls the Nurse, who has been waiting at the door, into their 
company, and in her presence they renew their vows of eternal love. 
The Princess would wish to fly with him ; but prudence forbids this 
course ; Latino hopes that a peace may soon be concluded between their 



J - 



XXIV 



Inlroduction, 



fathers, the bond of which shall be their marriage ; and explains that, in 
the mean time, during his enforced absence, the Mago will afford them 
the means of communication. Then ensues a tender and tearful leave- 
taking, and Latino, placing his love in the arms of her Nurse, departs. 
The Act closes as usual with the Chorus, warning mortals against Love, 
and displaying their helplessness when once they have fallen into his 
power. 

ACT III. SCENE I. 

The Queen, Hadriana and Nurse ; Ladies attending. The Queen 
tells Hadriana that her father, in order to strengthen the estate of his 
kingdom, has chosen, as husband for her, the son of the king of the 
Sabines, his ally. Hadriana refuses to accept him. The Queen is angry. 
The Nurse intervenes to calm both, and both offer numerous reasons for 
and against the marriage. The Queen at last admits that for her part 
she could be willing that Hadriana should choose for herself, even 
though her choice lighted on the son of Mezentio, 

Benche so che nol vuoi, che I'odii a morte, 

but that her father is resolved on the match ; and thereupon, in 

SCENE 2, 

enter to them King Hatrio and the Mago. The King asks if Hadriana 
consents to the marriage. She refuses. He threatens her with death. 
The Mago interferes to moderate his ire ; but the King is firm, and 
departs in great wrath, to divide the spoils among the soldiers, and 
to bring in the bridegroom, with whom he swears Hadriana shall wed or 
die. The Queen and her ladies then also go out, leaving to the Mago 
the duty of persuading Hadriana to consent to the marriage. 

SCENE 3. 

The Mago asks Hadriana what she proposes to do. Hadriana 
laments the unhappy state of women ; reviews her own position from 
every possible point of view, and ends by placing her hope in the Mago. 
If he cannot help her, she begs he will give her poison, or she will stab 
herself. The Mago then proposes to her a sleeping potion which shall 
hold her apparently dead for sixteen hours, during which time she shall 
be buried ; and he in the mean time will send to Latino to come and take 
her from the tomb. This course being decided on, the Mago informs 
the Chorus of the consent of the bride, and bids them invocate with loud 
shouts the god of marriage. 

ACT IV. SCENE I. 

During this Act the Chorus is in permanent possession of the stage. 
Enter Messenger, who tells the Chorus that, while they have been sing- 
ing hymns of joy, sad events have occurred. He tells of the reconcilia- 
tion of Hadriana with her parents, of her apparelling as a bride — how 



Introduction, xxv 

she had then retired to her chamber where, after a few kind words to her 
maidens, she had dismissed them, and had asked her Nurse for water to 
quench her thirst, on drinking which she had remarked that her father 
should give her to no husband that day. The Nurse had heard, but did 
not comprehend, and left her reposing on her bed. The evening of the 
spousals drawing on, the chamber had been entered, and she discovered 
apparently dead — supposed to have poisoned herself — lamented by all. 
The Messenger then adds that he is charged, first to summon the Mago 
to perform the funeral rites ; then to inform the young Sabine prince 
that his presence is no longer needed, and that he may return home as 
soon as he pleases ; and then also that he is commissioned by the 
Nurse to seek out Prince Latino, and tell him what has happened Exit 
Messenger. 

SCENE 2. 

Enter Nurse. She laments Hadriana's death ; regrets that she should 
survive her, and, in reply to the demands of the Chorus, tells how the 
Princess was found dead, and how her parents lament their loss ; then, 

SCENE 3, 

Enter Hatrio and Councillor. The King laments the loss of his 
children, and gives, in a series of short speeches, reasons for his grief. 
The Councillor meets him at all points, and, at some length, offers 
reasons derived from history, philosophy, divinity, etc., showing that he 
should at least resign himself to, if not actually rejoice at, his loss. 
Then, in 

SCENE 4, 

Enter the Mago, the Queen, etc., etc., in procession, with the body of 
Hadriana, which, with great lamentations, is placed in the tomb, and the 
Act concludes with the Chorus lamenting the miserable state of man 
from the cradle to the grave. 

ACT V. SCENE I. 

The Mago solus, congratulates himself on the success of his designs ; 
but wonders that Latino, to whom he had despatched letters by a 
minister, has not yet arrived. 

SCENE 2. 

The minister makes his appearance, tells how he had sought out 
Latino, but had arrived only to hear that another messenger had pre- 
ceded him, after talking with whom Latino had ridden away in haste, no 
one knew whither. He returns the Mago's letters to him. The Mago is 
disturbed by this intelligence, and together they prepare to take Hadriana 
from the tomb, but hearing approaching footsteps they retire. Then, 

SCENE 3, 
Enter Latino and Messenger. Latino thanks the Messenger for his 



XXVI 



Introduction. 



services, gives him his cloak as a reward, bids him thank the Nurse for 
the news she had sent him, and tell her that she shall soon hear other 
news of similar import. Exit Messenger. 

SCENE 4. 

Latino solus, laments the death of Hadriana, opens and enters the 
tomb. 

SCENE 5 

Latino seated with the body of Hadriana in his arms, having taken 
her from the vault He swallows poison. 

SCENE 6. 

Hadriana wakes ; imagines at first that she is in the arms of the 
Mago, and reproaches him ; recognizes Latino j mutual explanations 
and grief. Latino expires. 

SCENE 7. 

Hadriana gives vent to her grief. 

SCENE 8. 

Enter to her the Mago and minister. They discover what has 
happened Hadriana tells them she has poisoned herself, and begs 
them to bury Latino and her in the same tomb, with an inscription cut 
in marble, giving an account of their fate, so that in after ages some 
pitying author finding it, may represent their story to the eyes of faithful 
lovers. They place the body of Latino in the tomb, and during their 
absence Hadriana stabs herself. They return to find her dead, and, 
placing her by the side of Latino, they close the tomb, and fly to the 
army of Mezentio. 

SCENE 9. 

The Chorus. Enter to them the Messenger, exhorting all to fly for 
their lives. Mezentio again threatens, and, in revenge for the disappear- 
ance of his son, has found means to bring an inundation on the town. 
Queen Orontea has died of grief for the loss of her children. The roar- 
ing torrent approaches bearing all before it, and thus the Tragedy ends 
with a scene of great terror and confusion. 

It will be seen from this synopsis that, except in some of the main in- 
cidents of the story, borrowed by Groto from Da Porto, there is but little 
resemblance in the conduct of the two tragedies of * La Hadriana ' and 
* Romeo and Juliet,' and that the agreement between them, detected by 
Walker, must be looked for in special passages. These passages are as 
under. I have, however, discarded Walker's extremely free and florid 
translations of them in favour of a more literal version, the object being 
a comparison between Groto's and Shakespeare's lines. 

La Hadriana, Act XL Sc. 2. The parting of the lovers. Latino per- 
ceives the approach of morning. 



Introduction, xxvii 

Zuit. — S'io non erro, c presso il far del giomo. 

Udite il rossignuoly che con noi desto, 

Con noi geme fra i spini, e la rugiada 

Col pianto oostro bagna llierbe. Ahi lasso, 

Rivolgete la £accta a 1*0110116. 

Ecco incomincia a spuntar I'alba ftiori, 

Portando un'altro sol sopra la terra, 

Che per6 dal mio Sol resterk vinto. 
Had. Ahim^y cMo gelo. Ahim^, ch'io tremo tutta. 

Questa ^ quell' hora, ch'ogni mia dolcezza 

AfTatto stempra. Ahime, quest*^ quellliora, 

Che m'insegnia a saper, che cosa e afTanno. 

O del mio ben nemica, avara notte, 

Perche si ratto corri, fuggi, voli, 

A sommerger te stessa, e me nel mare 

Te ne k) Ibero, e nel mar del pianto ? 

Lai, If I err not, the lamp of day is nigh. 

List to the nightingale, that wakes with us, 

With us laments mid thorns ; and now the dew. 

Like our tears, pearls the grass. Ah me, alas, 

Turn towards the east thy face. 

There now begins the morning to break forth, 

Bringing another sun above the earth 

That yet by my sun shall rest vanquished. 
Had, Ah, how I freeze ! what trembling seizes me ! 

This is the hour that all my sweet delights 

At once embitters. Ah me, this is the hour 

That teaches me to know what thing is grief. 

Foe of my happiness, O, envious night 

Why art so swift to run, to rush, to fly, 

To plunge thyself and me into the sea. 

Thee in salt waves, me in a sea of tears ? 

I must note here that Walker omits the last line of each of these two 
speecnes. 

Compare with this in Act III. Sc. 5, the parting of Romeo and Juliet 
The mention of the nightingale is believed to be a special point in favour 
of Walker's theory. 

The next passage selected by Walker is from Act III. Sc. 3, where 
the Mago gives Hadriana the opiate : — 

Questa bevendo voi con I'acqua cruda, 
Dara principio k lavorar fra un poco, 
£ vi addormentark si immota, e fissa, 
£ d'ogni senso rendera si priva : 
II calor naturale, il color vivo 
£ lo spirar vi torra si, si i polsi 



xxviii Introduction. 

(In cui e il testimonio de la vita) 
Immobili staran senza dar colpo ; 
Che alcun per dotto fisico, che sia, 
Non potra giudicarvi altro, che morta. 

You drinking this in water from the spring, 
Twill in a little time begin to work 
And cast you in a slumber fixed and still, 
And every sense of feeling will deprive : 
The natural heat of life, its vivid hue 
And breathing motion will be rapt ; the pulse 
(In which resides true witness of thy life) 
Will stand quite motionless and give no beat ; 
So that the learned st doctor that may be 
Not otherwise could deem thee than as dead. 

Compare with this the Friar's speech in R. and J., Act IV. Sc. i, lines 
93-103. Here again a greater coincidence of expression has been 
imagined to exist between Groto and Shakespeare than between Shake- 
speare and Brooke. See Brooke, 2127-34 and 2149-57. 

Walker also selects for comparison with Shakespeare the following 
passage from the speech of the Mago, Act III. Sc. 3. 

Tra tanto manderem fidato messo, 

Occultamente in fretta al vostro amante, 

Che poco ancor da noi lontan camina, 

Con lettere secrete, ad avisarlo 

Di tutto 1 fatto. II qual senza dimora 

A dietro, Torme rivolgendo, tosto 

Sara qui giunto, et egli, 6 (se sia tardo 

Alquanto) io vi trarr6 de I'arca fuori, 

E travestita andrete fuor con esso. 

E cosi ne la morte, e nel sepolcro, 

La vita troverete, e il maritaggio. 

Cosi rira patema fuggirete, 

Le odiate nozze, e con pieta commune 

Senza alcun biasmo, senza alcun periglio, 

Lieta cadrete al vostro amante in mano. 

Meantime a trusty messenger well send 
In secret wise, in haste unto your love, 
Who yet but little distant from us roams. 
With secret letters advertising him 
Of the whole fact When he without delay 
Backward will turn his steps and quickly here 
Will join us. And he, or (should he tarry) 
I myself forth from the tomb will take you. 
Then in disguise together shall you fly. 



hitroduction, xxix 

And thus in death and in the sepulchre 

Life you shall find and marriage. 

Thus shall you from your father's wrath escape 

And these loathed nuptials, and with mutual love 

Free from all peril and without reproach, 

With joy youll fall into your loved one's hands. 

Compare with this the Friar's speech, R. and J., Act IV. Sc. i, lines 
1 13- 1 1 8. There is here, by the way, in the last two lines a remarkable 
similarity between Brooke and Groto. See 1. 2172, Brooke, 

That daungerles, without reproche, / thou shalt thy loue enioy. 

Perhaps, however, Walker's strongest point is in the coincidence in 
Shakespeare and in Groto of the consolations offered to the father on the 
supposed death of the daughter. Neither in Brooke nor any of the 
Italian or French tales does any comforter appear, nor does the father 
give any utterance to his grief ; but in Shakespeare (Act IV. Sc. v.) Capulet 
laments his daughter's death, and the Friar recommends resignation to 
the Divine will, and endeavours to persuade the afflicted father that he 
ought rather to rejoice at his daughter's escape f om this world of care. 
In Groto's tragedy (Act IV. Sc. 3) we find King Hatrio's counsellor per- 
forming the same pious office. 

Mr W. W. Lloyd in his comments on * Romeo and Juliet ' (Singer's 
ed. of Shakespeare's Works), adds one more extract from Groto's play, Act 
I. Sc. I, the scene in which Hadriana acquaints the Nurse with her love 
for Latino. In it he finds a remarkable agreement with Romeo's anti- 
thetical definition of love (Act I. Sc. i, L 17 1-7, 188-9), ^^^ *^ ^c 
believes to something more than casual indulgence in the same common 
place of the passion. Mr Lloyd does not, however, suppose Shakesp)eare 
to have been acquainted with the original play, but rather with some 
translation of it adapted to the English stage. His extract is as follows : — 

Fu il mio male un piacer senza alleg^ezza ; 
Un voler, che si stringe, ancorche punga. 
Un pensier, che si nutre, ancor che ancida.* 
Un' affano chel cicl da per riposo. 
Un ben supremo, fonte d'o^ni m ile. 
Un male estremo, d'ogni ben radice. 
Una piaga mortal, chj mi ftc'io. 
Un laccio d'or dov'io stessa m'avvinsi. 
Un velen grato, ch'io bevei per gli occhi. 
Giunto un finire e un cominciar di vita. 
Una febre, che'l gelo, e'l caldo mesce. 
Un fel piu dolce assai, che mele, 6 Manna. 
Un bel foco, che strugge, e non risolve. 
Un giogo insopportabile, e leggiero. 

'Mr Lloyd omits this line. 



XXX Iniroducikm. 

Una pena fdice, an dolor caro. 
Una morte immortal piena di Tita. 
Un' inferno, che sembra il Paradisa 

My sickness was a pleasure without joy ; 

A will embracing yet repefling sdU, 

A care which nourishcth, and yet which slays, 

A labour given by heaven as a rest 

A supreme good the source of every ill. 

An extreme ill the root of every good, 

A mortal wound inflicted by mysdf^ 

A golden snare in which myself IVe catch'd. 

A pleasant poison drank in at my eyes ; 

Together ending and beginning life. 

A fever mixed with freexing and with heat, 

A gall than honey and manna sweeter Eu-, 

A beauteous flame that bums yet not destroys, 

An insupportable and lightsome yoke, 

A happy suflering and a cherisht grief, 

A death immortal brimming o*er with life, 

A Hell that seems as twere a Paradise. 

As Dr Farmer* however, has observed in his ' Essay on the learning 
of Shakespeare,* " Every sonnetteer characterixcs Love by contrarieties,* 
and he gives instances which shew that there was no need for Shakespeare, 
supposing him to have .been in want of examples, to travel hr afield. 
(See note in Variorum Sh., ed. iSai, voL vi. p. 19, and Fumess*s 
Variorum edition, p. aa.) 

I will add one more extract of two lines only to those given 
above, not however so much for its similarity of expression as for 
its pAfalleHsm of idea. In none of the Italian, French, or English 
writers mcntione<i above who preceded Groto is Romeo made to apo- 
•trtiphliic the tomb in which Juliet lies buried, la *La Hadriana,' 
Latino cHclaims, - 

Hcnchr chiamiir stepi^lcro non ti debbo. 

Ma ewrio. ouc s'«i$conde il mio thesora V. 4. 

Vrt ou^ht I not to call thee sepulchre 

Hut CAiikct where my treasure lies concealed 

Moinro pUrlng Puriii in the tomb exclaims : 

A mnvpf i\ «o J A Lanthome, slaughtred youth ; 
ViM \w\T Hot Juliet, ami her bewtie makes 
'Ihlfi vrtuU A (UMii^ prc*cnce full of light. V. 3. 

Iff lift* *vtu«|«l«i of \\w pUy, I have also quoted a few lines, of which 
I tMM«* Mivr ()h* tirtU«lAMoh« 

Alt t Mr I. MiultlAim* AiUlrt'wuvis the Nurse, says .^ 



Introduction. xxxi 

" Thou who so often, whenas I, a child, 
Was like to stumble, g^v'st to me thy hand, 
Give me now counsel that I may not fall.** 

Is it possible that this may have suggested any part of the Nurse's 
famous speech in Romeo and Juliet, Act I. Sc. 3 ? — " she could have 
run and wadled all about : for even the day before, she broke her brow, 
and then my husband — God be with his soul ! a was a merrie man — 
took up the child." 

Again, when Queen Orontea (Act III. Sc. i) admits that for her part 
she could be willing that Adriana should choose for herself even though 
her choice lighted on Latino 

Although I know you would not wish for him, 
That to the death you hate hinL 

Here, as in many other places, Groto follows Da Porto, who, alone of 
the Novel writers, puts a similar sentiment into the mouth of Giulietta's 
mother — ** Vedi, figliuola mia dolcissima, non prag^ere oramai piu ; che 
marito a tua posta ti si dar4, se quasi uno de' Montecchi volessi, il che 
sono certa che non vorrai." Compare with this Juliet's speech ; — 

" I will not marry yet ; and, when I do, I swear, 
It shall be Romeo, whom you know I hate, 
Rather than Paris."— Act III. Sc. 5. 

It may also be noted as a coincidence that the minister entrusted 
with the letter acquainting Latino with the plot connected with the 
sleeping-draught returns the undelivered letter to the Mago ; so also 
Friar John returns to Friar Lawrence his undelivered letter. — * Hadriana,' 
Act V. Sc. 2 ; * RonL and JuL,' Act V. Sc. 2. 

Notwithstanding these resemblances, I find it difficult to believe that 
Shakespeare could have made use of Groto's play. Mr Grant White is 
apparently of the same opinion ; he observes that " Walker has very 
slender grounds for supposing that Sh. was acquainted with Groto^ 
tragedy." (Note in Furness's Variorum Shakespeare, p. 403.) It is 
certain however that Groto was known in England in Shakespeare's time, 
though how early I am unable to say. Ben Jonson mentions him in his 

* Volpone,' Act III. Sc. 2, where Lady Politick Would-be running over 
the list of Italian Poets she had read, among the rest names * Cieco di 
Hadria.' * Volpone ' was first brought out at the * Globe ' (Shakespeare's 
Theatre) in 1605. John Florio, who, like Shakespeare, was a prot^^ of 
the Earl of Southampton, in the list of '* Authors and Books that have 
been read of purpose for the collecting of this Dictionarie " (his Italian 
and English Dictionary, or * New World of Words,' ed. 161 1), mentions 

* La Adriana Tragedian and other works by Groto. In the list, how- 
ever, prefixed to Florio's earlier ed 1 598, Groto's name ^oes not'occur.* 

* For a discussion as to the connection of Shakespeare an<v Florio, see Notes in 
Variorum, 1821, at the end of ' Love's Labour 's Lost/ voL iv. p^. 479-483. Quite re- 



xxxii Introduction, 

There were manv editions of* La Hadriana/ 



Our story now enters the domain of history, and Girolamo de la 
Corte in his History of Verona, pubUshed in 1594-96, narrates the story 
of Romeo and Juhet as a real event which took place during the govern- 
ment of Bartolomco de la Scala, fixing, for the first time, the date of its 
occurrence, 1303. He omits all mention of Romeo's first and unsuccess- 
ful love ; gives the name of Leonardo to the Friar, and in the catastrophe 
makes Romeo expire before the awakening of Juliet ; but for the rest it 
seems evident that the details of his narration are derived from the 
stories of Da Porto or Bandello. In concluding his account, he adds 
that he had many times seen the tomb or sarcophagus of the lovers, 
then used as a washing trough at the well of the Orphanage of St 
Francis, "and," says he, "discussing this matter with the Cavalier Gerardo 
Boldicro,' my uncle, he showed me, besides the aforesaid sepulchre, 
a place in the wall, on that side next the Rev. Capucini Fathers', from 
whence, as he assured me he had been given to understand, this 
sepulchre, containing bones and ashes, had been taken many years 
before." 

With De la Corte's history ends the list of known works which, 
appearing before the date of publication of the ist Quarto ed. of Romeo 
and Juliet, might possibly have been consulted by Shakespeare when 
engaged in the composition of his play ; that there was at least one 
other work which may have been seen by him, we know from Brooke's 
Preface to his Poem, where he says : — " Though 1 saw the same argu- 
ment lately set forth on stage with more commendation than I can look 
for (being there much better set forth than I have or can do), yet the 
same matter, penned as it is, may serve the like good effect, etc, etc." 

The question whether this play to which Brooke refers was seen by 
him on the English stage or abroad has been much discussed ; the 
weight of opinion however is decidedly in favour of the former hypothesis, 
though, this being granted, whether this particular play held possession 
of our theatres up to Shakespeare's time, or was succeeded by others 
founded on it, must again r'^main matter for speculation only. 

The popularity of the subject, however, and the very differences 
which exist in the plot of Shakespeare's Play as compared with the known 
works of his predecessors, render it more than probable, almost certain, 
that at the time he wrote, some play or plays on the subject occupied the 
Knglish stage, and that to some extent he founded his drama on it or 
them. (Sec notes of the several Commentators on the Source of the 
plot, in Appendix to Furness's Variorum Shakespeare.) One little piece of 
evidence on this subject, which I do not recollect to have seen noted, 
if» the confusion which exists in the stage directions of the old editions 

cwfly. in the Kx.iminer Newspaper, 3 Oct., 1874. Mr W. Minto has suggested that a 
Minnrt prefixed to Florio's 'Second Fruits,' addresscl by "Phaeton to his friend 
YUnxn," rriiiy claim Shakes[)eare as its author. 

• A nephew of the Gerardo mentioned in connection with the poem of Clitia. 



Introduction. Postscript. 



xxxm 



of Shakespeare's Play (Act V. Sc. 3) with reference to the character 
Peter.' This confusion points distinctly to the fact that Romeo's man 
in the lost play or plays was named Peter, as in the Italian, French, and 
English tales. Shakespeare probably reduced Peter to be the Nurse's man 
and re-named Romeo's man Balthazar — in his text they are perfectly dis- 
tinct. 

No traces, however, of any previous play (with the exception, if it is 
an exception, of that which I have mentioned as regards Peter) have 
come down to us ; unless, indeed, in Shakespeare's Play itself, as some 
commentators profess to discover, there are to be seen the touches of an 
earlier and stranger hand. Boswell instances Benvolio's account, in 
(Qi), of the fatal affray in which Mercutio and Tybalt are slain (Act III. 
Sc. i), as showing both in rhythm and construction " a much greater 
resemblance to the style of some of Shakspeare's predecessors than to his 
own "(p. 266, vol. vi., Variorum, 1821); yet I cannot but think that a 
comparison of the two versions of this speech in (Qi) and Q2 would have 
convinced Boswell that the strangeness of the former was owing to the 
chaotic state of the MS. from which it was printed. Mr Grant White, 
who has gone at considerable length into a comparative study of (Qr) 
and Q2, also sees traces of another hand in some passages of the 
former, notably in Act II. Sc. 6, where Romeo and Juliet meet at the 
Friar's cell to be married, and in Act IV. Sc. 5, the lamentations over 
the supposed dead body of Juliet 

This, however, is a question of authorship and is apart from the sub- 
ject of this volume. In the foregoing pages I have endeavoured to con- 
fine myself exclusively to matters connected with the sources of the 
Play, and to that subject, in the perusal of Brooke's Poem and Painter's 
prose narration, I now invite the attention of the reader. 



POSTSCRIPT. 



In his introduction to the Poem of " Romeus & Juliet," by Brooke, 
and to Painter's Tale in the " Palace of Pleasure " (Shakespeare's 
Library, Vol. ii.), Mr Collier mentions a poem by Bernard Garter, of 
which the following is the Title page : — "The Tragicall and True His- 
toric which happened betwene two English louers. 1 563. written by Ber. 
Gar. 1 565. In oedibus Richardi Tottelli. Cum Priuilegio." This poem, 
says Mr Collier, " was composed in decided imitation of Arthur Brooke's 
* Romeus and Juliet,' perhaps in consequence of the success of it, but it 
is inferior in every poetical quality." By the courtesy of Mr Christie- 



* In (Qi) "Enter Romeo and Balthasar," etc., and in the prefix to speeches 
sometimes * Bait,' sometimes • Man.' In Q2, 3 and Ff. " Enter Romeo and Peter," 
and in the prefix to npeeches, ' Pet.,' ' Man..' ' Bait,' and ' Boy.' Q4, 5 give the entry 
and prefix correctly. See Parallel Texts ed. 
BHOMBO. e • 



xxxiv Introduction, Fostsaipt. 

Miller of Britwell, I have been enabled to examine this extremely rare 
little piece. It was, as Mr Collier observes, composed in decided imita- 
tion of Brooke, whose phraseology Garter in many places adopts : 
beyond this however it has nothing in common with the story of * Romeus 
and Juliet.* The metre also differs in the two poems. Brooke employs 
rhyming lines of twelve and fourteen syllables, the first divided in 6-6, 
the second in 8-6. Garter's lines are each of fourteen syllables divided in 
8-6. For a specimen take the following : — 

** Now mates the maister cries a pace, 

good newes to euery man, 
Haw Jack thou scuruy lowsy boye 

go tap and fill the can. 
Be mery maisters drink a pace, 

now make we all good sporte, 
Our voyage almost ended is, 

I see the wyshed porte, 
Wherein by force we meane to land, 

as we haue done the like, 
by helpe of God, and by the force 

of bended bowe and pyke. 
Then ioye ech man within the ship, 

theire sport is for a king, 
And hey, how, ioly rombelowe, 

the saylers all do sing.'' 

No names either of persons or places are mentioned in the poem. 
The personages are the Lovers, the Father and Mother of the damsel, 
her Nurse and an old Doctor, a friend of the young gentleman. The 
story may be summed up in few words : — A youthful couple meet and 
fall in love ; not knowing how to make their mutual passion known they 
fall sick- The lover at last confides in his friend the Doctor, to whom 
also the Nurse comes, to consult with him as to her young mistress's 
ilhiess. The shrewd old Doctor learning thus the state of affairs, pro- 
poses to the parents of the young lady the marriage of the youthful pair. 
They consent, and the marriage is solemnized with great joy and splen- 
dour. Not long after, war with a neighbouring state being declared, the 
young husband sets sail with his Troops to attack a foreign port. He is 
successful in his enterprise and gains great renown by his prowess ; 
peace is proclaimed, and he is about to return home when one of his fellow 
soldiers maliciously accuses him of treason. Judgment by single combat 
is appealed to ; he defeats his antagonist, who confesses his villany ; he 
forgives him and then — slays him. He himself, however, has been 
grievously wounded in the combat, dies the same night and is buried in 
the church of the captured town. His ship returns home with the sad 
intelligence, on hearing which his young wife dies suddenly of heart- 
break. Her mother follows her as suddenly. 



Introduction. Postscript. xxxv 

** The father sawe, that he had lost 

his daughter sonne and wife, 
Would faine haue dyed, but yet doth last 

his heauy hated life. 
****** * 

And those that knewe them euery one 

and sees the Siers unrest, 
Do iudge of both, the wemens hap 

in sorowe was the lest 
God graunt him quyet life to lyue 

his cares away to pluck, 
God send eche loue so true a harte, 
yet lorde some better lucke." 
Finis. B. G, 
d Imprinted at London 
in Fletestrete within Temple 
barre, at the signe of the hande 
and starre, by Richard 
Tottyll. 
Anno. 1565 



ON *WILY BEGUILED.' 

I at one time thought it would have been part of my duty to add to 
these pages some account of the old play (author unknown) called Wily 
Beguiled ; for though the first known edition of that play was printed as 
late as 1606, Malone's positive assertions as to its early date— and his 
judgment in matters of this kind is not lightly to be set aside— lead 
to the inference that Shakespeare made some use of it in preparing 
his Romeo and Juliet for the stage. It is certain that the resemblances 
between numerous passages in the two plays can only be accounted for 
on the ground that one poet borrowed from the other, and therefore the 
determination of the date of the production of Wily Beguiled became a 
matter of great interest. In a note to his life of Shakspeare (p. 169-70, 
vol. ii. ed. 1821) Malone says : — "The wretched state of the stage in 1589 
and 1590 is ascertained by the history and the productions of that 
period. .... Of the comedies of this period, very few have come down 
to us ; but Wily Beguiled, Mucedorus, and the old Taming of a Shrew, 
which were highly admired, may serve to show of what materials those 
of an inferior quality, which have perished, were made." He offers no 
proof for thus assigning Wily Beguiled to the period 1589-90; but in 
noting a passage in Romeo and Juliet (Act iii. Sc. 5) in which arenuu-k- 
able similarity exists between the two plays, he states that ^ Wily Beguil'd 
was on the stage before 1 596, being mentioned by Nashe in his Have 
with you to Saffron Walden, printed in that year.^ This would seem 



xxxvi Introduction. Postscript. 

conclusive ; but the fact is that the passage referred to in Nashe's pam- 
phlet does not justify this positive statement. Nash does not mention 
iA^ play of Wily Beguiled at all, and in the phrase which he does use — 
"tricke of Wily Begiuly^* — it is extremely doubtful whether he meant 
any allusion to it : in my judgment he did not, for I can see nothing in 
the passage in question which would render any allusion to the play 
appropriate. The case is this : — Nashe accuses Dr Gabriel Harvey of 
endeavouring to enhance praise that had been bestowed on him, by 
heightening the reputation of the obscure individuals who had bestowed 
it This proceeding Nashe calls a "tricke of Wily Beguily j*^ as we 
might say a wily trick, a shuffling, hankey-pankey trick. The Play 
takes its title from its plot, a chief feature in which is to show how a 
wily lawyer was beguiled of his prey, and it contains nothing which 
could illustrate the accusation brought against Harvey. Had not the 
Wily Beguily of Nashe been printed with capital initials, and in italic, 
Malone himself, I fancy, would scarcely have accepted it as an allusion 
to, much less as a mention of, the play : and what small support this 
peculiarity in Nashe's tract lends to Malone's theory I leave to the judg- 
ment of those who have perused the tract. The original edition is with- 
out pagination; the passage in question will be found in p. Ii8 of 
Collier's reprint. 

[Since the above was written Mr Fumivall, who quite independently 
of and unknown to me had been investigating this question, has pub- 
lished in " Notes and Queries," 2ist August, 1875, ^ paper which so exactly 
coincides with and proves my own conclusions on this point that its 
readers I feel will need no further assurance that Nashe did not, as 
Malone supposed, allude to the Play of * Wily Beguiled ' in his * Have 
with you to Saffron Walden.' See Appendix.] 

Recently, in a letter to the Athenceum (17 July, 1875), Mr J. W. Hales 
pointed out that * Wily Beguiled * contained an allusion to the famous 
Cadiz expedition ; * and, accepting Malone's statement that the play is 
mentioned by Nashe, he was necessarily driven to the conclusion that it 
was " written in the late autumn of 1 596 : " he has, however, since seen 
reason to believe that Malone's statement is erroneous, and therefore that 
his argument as to the date of Wily Beguiled must be abandoned. (See 
his second letter to Athenceum^ 4 Sep., 1875.) The allusion to the Cadiz 
expedition — the truth of which, I imagine, will be universally admitted — 
is sufficient in itself to settle this point ; but there is, I believe, to be 
found in the play other evidence that it was later than 1 596, not earlier 
than 1 597, and probably much later. The clown. Will Cricket, detail- 
ing the prompt measures he intends to take for his wedding, says ; — 

* •• far-fetched and dear-bought is good for ladies ; and I am sure I have been as 
far as CalesXo fetch that I have. I have been at Cambridge, a scholar ; at Ca/es, a 
soldier; and now in the country, a lawyer, etc." The Cadiz, Gades or Cales ex- 
pedition sailed from Plymouth 3 June, 1596, and returned 8 August, 1596. Bishop 
Hall refers to it in his Satires, 1597, and Ben Jonson in his ' Silent Woman,' 1609^ 



Introduction, Postscript, xxxvii 

" for, do you mark, I am none of these sneaking fellows that will stand 
thrumming of caps, and studying upon a matter, as long as Hunkes 
with the great head has been about to show his little wit in the second 
part of his paltry poetry : ' if this is, as I believe it to be, an allu- 
sion to Ben Jonson and an instance of the silly accusations, levelled at 
him, of his slowness in the production of his works, Wily Beguiled could 
scarcely be earlier than the end of 1 597. " Three years they did provoke 
nie," says Jonson, and then in 1601 he retorted with the * Poetaster ; ' but 
I rather incline to a later date for this play, and in the absence of any 
other production than the Apologetical Dialogue with which Jonson sup- 
plemented his * Poetaster,' to which could be applied the phrase, " second 
part of his paltry poetry," I should place the date of Wily Beguiled some 
time in 1602. But first perhaps it is desirable to aiford -some proof that 
by ^^ Hunkes with the great head^' is meant Ben Jonson. Jn the 

* Satiromastix * Cap. Tucca calls Horace jun. (Jonson) ^^ great Hunkes,* 
and compares him to the " Saracen's Head at Newgate j " the allusion 
to his alleged slowness in composition requires no proof of its applica- 
bility to Jonson. The succession of things as regards the * Poetaster,' 

* Satiromastix,' * Wily Beguiled,' and the * Apologetical Dialogue,' I take 
to be this. After three years of provocation Jonson produced on the 
stage in 1601 the * Poetaster ; ' this brought up * Satiromastix ; ' this, in 1602, 
induced Jonson to publish the * Poetaster,' at the end of which he says, 
in a note, he intended to add, by way of Epilogue, an Apology with his 
reasons for " publishing of this book." He was however restrained by 
authority from doing this, and he therefore requests the reader " to think 
charitably of what thou hast read, //'// thou mayest hear him speak what 
he hath written^ i. e. the Apologfy.» 

And now, I suppose, * Wily Beguiled ' came in, and with the broad 
hint at the delay in producing the " second part of his paltry poetry " 
(? The Apology) caused Jonson to fulfil his promise, and speak once on 
the stage his " Apologetical dialogue." ' 

This " newe exorcisme," coupled no doubt with the publication of the 

* Poetaster,' brought * Satiromastix ' into print, also in 1602. See what 
Dekker says in his preface to it : — " neyther should this ghost of Tucca, 
have walkt up and downe Poules Church-yard, but that hee was raiz'd up 
(in print) by newe Exocismes." [Is it necessary to observe that * Satiro- 
mastix * was published in Paul's Church-yard ? ] 

If this theory will bear the test of examination the date of the pro- 
duction of Wily Beguiled would be sometime in 1602. At any rate the 
imitations in it of the * Merchant of Venice ' and, I believe, of * Twelfth 
Night,' must, together with the allusion to the Cales expedition pointed 
out by Mr Hales, upset Malone's positive assertions of its early date and 
prove that the author of * Wily Beguiled,* not the author of * Romeo and 
Juliet,' was the imitator. 

* Jonson tells us in his folio ed. 1616, when he published the Apologetical Dia- 
logue, that it was onct spoken on the stage. 



xxzviii Introduction. Postscript, 

Wily Beguiled is indeed made up of shreds and patches 'conveyed' 
from other plays, and some httle additional proofs of its lateness may 
perhaps be derived from its Prologue and its Epilogue : in the former 
we find, ^111 make him fly swifter than meditation ; " compare Hamlet ^ 
I. V. 29-30, " 1, with wings as swift | As meditation, etc" : in the latter is 
a line which would seem to be imitated from Jonson's Every man out 
ofkis Humour^ 1 599. 

Jonson, at the end : — " but let them vanish, vapours ! " — 
* Wily Beguiled ' : — " And bid them vanish, vapours ! " 
This Epilogue, by the way, from ist ed. 1606, is only reprinted in 
Collier's " History of Dramatic Poetry," Vol. iii. p. 375. 

Reprints of the Play of * Wily Beguiled ' will be found in Hawkins' 
** Origin of the English Drama," 1773, 2m<i ^^ Mr Hazlitt's new edition 
of " Dodsle/s Old Plays." 

I should add that Mr Hales in his second letter, above mentioned, 
states that Dr Brinsley Nicholson has placed at his disposal certain 
notes on this subject, '' in which he concludes, on the whole, that the 
play was written * in or after 1601.'" 



APPENDIX. 

Extract from Mr F. J. Fumivairs paper in * Notes and Queries,' 5th 
S. iv., Aug. 21, i«75 : — 

' Nashe, as is well known, uses the phrase Wily Beguily in his Have 
with You to Saffron Walden^ 1596 ; but, having just read that tract very 
carefully, I feel certain that Nashe does not, in that phrase, allude to the 
play of Wily Beguiled. In the first place, Nashe gives to the phrase 
the meaning of " wiliness," " deceit," and not that of " the would-be 
tricker tricked, or beguiler beguiled," in which " Wily beguiled " is used 
in the play, and which is the original sense, as is shown by Dr John 
Harvey's use, which I have lately hit on, of " wily beguile himself," with- 
out italics, in his Discoursive Probleme, written in iS^/y published in 
1588 (the play was, in fact, called after a popular saw) : — 

" God« they say, sendeth coxwmonly a curst cow short horns : and doth 
Dot the diuel, I say, in the winde-vpall, and in fine, oftner play wilie 
beguile him selfe, and crucifie his owne wretched limes, then atchieue his 
mischicuous and malicious purposes, howsoeuer craftilie conueied, or 
ieately packed either in one fraudulent sort or other?" — 1588; Dr John 
Harvey, Discoursive Probleme, p. 74.' 

Next, Nashe uses a great number of these reduplicated words in his tract ; 

' Mr Hales In bb Mcond letter to the Athtneeum^ mentioned above, quotes from 
Ra/s ' Joculatory Frcnrerbs ' He hath played wily beguiled with himself. 



Introduction, appendix. xxxlx 

they are choice weapons in his well-furnished armoury of terms for riSi- 
cuie and abuse. Here are those I have noted in the Saffron Walden .•— 

« neighbor Quiquiffe," " Gorboduck Huddleduddle " (D 3), « Nibble de 
beane " (G 4, back), " Brachmanical fuddle-fubs " (H), " Himpenhempen 
Slampamp," " Cockledemoy " (I, back), " Gurmo Hidruntum," " Archibald 
Rupenrope " (K 4), " Countes Mountes " (L). " huffty tuffty " (L 4, back), 
"Talamtana,** " Tarrarantantara " (N), " Wrinckle de crinkledum*' (O 
2), " Kenimnowo " (R 2), " Whipsidoxy ** (R 4, back), " scrimpum scram- 
pum " (S), " Piggen de wiggen " (V), " prinkum prankums " (V, back) — 
all printed in italics ; or roman, where the context is in italic —besides 
" hurly-burly,** " pell-mell," &c. And in his Wily Beguily passage he 
calls Gabriel Harvey " Graphiel Hagiel " (Have with You to Saffron 
Walden^ 1596, T. Nashe, sig. Q 4, back) :— 

** But this was our Graphiel Hagiels tricke of Wily Beguily herein, 
that whereas he could get no man of worth to cry Placet to his workes, 
or meeter it in his commendation, those worthlesse Whippets and Jack 
Strawes hee could get [i, Bamabe Barnes, 2, John Thorius, and 3, 
Anthonie Chute, whom Harvey likened, the ist to Spenser and Basker- 
vile (a valiant soldier), the 2nd to Bp Andrewes and Bodley, and the 3rd 
to the orator Dove and the Herald Clarencius], hee would seem to enable 
and compare with the highest. Hereby hee thought to connycatch the 
simple world, and make them beleeue, that these and these great men, 
euerie waye sutable to Syr Thomas Baskeruile, Master Bodley, Doctor 
Androwes, Doctor Doue, Clarencius and Master Spencer, had seperately 
contended to outstrip Pindarus in his Olympicisy and sty aloft to the 
highest pitch, to stellifie him aboue the cloudes, and make him shine 
next to Mercury." 

These facts leave no doubt in my mind that Nashe in the above pis- 
sage made no reference to the play of Wily Beguiled^ 



THE TRAGICALL HIS 

torye of Romeus and Iiiliet, writ^ 

ten first in Italian by Bandell, 

and noive in Englishe by 

Ar. Br. 



In cedibus Richardi TotteUi. 
Cum Priui/egio. 



BOMEUB. 



7o the Reader, 

THe God of all glory e created vniuersallye all creatures, to 
sette forth his prayse, both those whiche we esteme profitable 
in vse and pleasure, and also those, whiche we accompte 
noysome, and lothsome. But principally he hath appointed 
man, the chiefest instrument of his honour, not onely, for 
ministry ng matter thereof in man himself e : but aswell in gatheryng out 
of other, the occasio'is of publishing Gods goodnes, wisdome, W power. 
And in like sort, euerye dooyng of man hath by Goddes dyspensacion 
some thynge, whereby God may, and ought to be honored. So the 
good doynges of the good, ksf the euill actes of the wicked, the happy 
successe of the blessed, and the wofull procedinges of the miserable, 
doe in diuers sorte sound one prayse of God, And as eche flower . 
yeldeth hony to the bee : so euery exaumple ministreth good lessons, to 
the well disposed mynde. The glorious triumphe of the continent 
man vpon the lustes of wanton fieshe, incourageth men to honest 
restraynt of wyld affections, the shamefull and uretched endes of 
such, as haue yelded their libertie thrall to fowle desires, teache men 
to witholde them selues from the hedlong fall of loose dishonestie. 
So, to lyke effect, by sundry meanes, the good mans exaumple byddeth 
men to be good, and the euill mans mischefe, wameth men not to ' 

be euyll. To this good ende, serue all ill endes, of yll begynnynges. ' 

And to this ende (good ReaderJ is this tragicall matter written^ 
to describe vnto thee a coople of vnfortunate louers, thralling them^ > 



To the Reader. 

selues to vnhonest desire, neglecting the authoritie and aduise of 
parents and frendes, conferring their principall counsels with dronken 
gossyppes, and superstitious friers (the naturally fitte instrumentes of 
vnchastitie) attemptyng all aduentures of peryll, for thnttaynyng of 
their wished lust, vsyng cuiriculer confession (the hay of whoredome, 
and treason) for furtheraunce of theyr purpose, abusyng the honorable 
name of lawefull ifiariage, to cloke the shame of stolne contractes, 
fnallye, by all meanes of vnhonest tyfe, hastyng to most vnhappye 
deathe. This president (good Reader) shcdbe to thee, as the slaues of 
Lacedemon, oppressed with excesse of drinke, deformed and altered 
from likenes of men, both in mynde, and vse of body, were to the 
free borne children, so shewed to them by their parentes, to thintent 
to rayse in them an hatefull lothyng of so filthy beastlynes. Here^ 
unto if you apply e it, ye shall dcliuer my dooing from qffence, and 
prqfit your selues. Though I saw the same argument lately setfoorth 
on stage with more commendation, then I can looke for: (being 
there much better set forth then I haue or can dooe) yet the same 
matter penned as it is, may seme to lyke good effect, if the readers 
do brynge with them lyke good myndes, to consider it. which hath the 
more incouraged me to publishe it, suche as it is, Ar, Br. 



To the Reader. 

A Mid the desert rockes, the mountaine beare. 
Bringes forth vnformd, vnlyke her selfe her yong : 
Nought els but lumpes of 6eshe withouten heare. 
In tract of time, her often lycking tong 

Geues them such shape, as doth (ere long) delight 
The lookers on : Or when one dogge doth shake 
With moosled mouth, the ioyntes too weake to fight. 
Or when vpright he standeth by his stake, 

(A noble creast,) or wylde in sauage wood, 
A dosyn dogges one holdeth at a baye. 
With gaping mouth, and stayned iawes with blood. 
Or els, when from the ferthest heauens, they 

The lode starres are, the wery pilates marke, 

In stormes to gyde to hauen the tossed barke. 

Right so my muse 

Hath (now at length) with trauell long brought forth 
Her tender whelpes, her diuers kindes of style. 
Such as they are, or nought, or little woorth. 
Which careflill trauell, and a longer whyle. 

May better shape. The eldest of them loe, 
I offer to the stake, my youth full woorke. 
Which one reprochefull mouth might ouerthrowe : 
The rest (vnlickt as yet) a whyle shall lurke, 

Tyll tyme geue strength, to meete and match in fig'it 

with slaunders whelpes. Then shall they tell of stryfe 
Of noble tryumphes, and deedes of martial might. 
And shall geue rules of chast and honest lyfe. 

The whyle I pray that ye with fauour blame. 
Or. rather not renroue the laughing game 

Of this my muse. 



lb 



The Argument. 



/ 



LOue hath inflamed twayne by sodayn sight. 
And both do graunt the thing that both desyre. 
They wed in shrift by counsell of a frier. 
Yong Romeus clymes fayre luliets bower by night. 
(^ Three monthes he doth enioy his cheefe delight. 
Ey Tybalts rage, prouoked vnto yre. 
He payeth death to Tybalt for his hyre. 
A banisht man he scapes by secret flight. 
New mariage is otfrcd to his wyfe. 

She drinkes a drinke that seemes to reae her breath. 
They bury her, that sleping yet hath lyfe. 
Her husband hearcs the tydinges of her death. 

He drinkes his bane. And she with Romeus knyfe» 
When she awakes, her selfe (alas) she sleath. 



4 



f Romeus and luliet. 



\F0. X] 



THere is beyonde the Alps, / a towne of auncient fame 
Whose bright renoune yet shineth cleare, / Verona men it name. 
Bylt in an happy time, / bylt on a fertile soyle : 
4 Maynteined by the heauenly fates, / and by the townish toyle. 
The fruitfiill hilles aboue, / the pleasant vales belowe. 
The siluerstreame with chanell depe,/ that through the towne doth flow: 
The store of springes that seme / for vse, and eke for ease : 
8 And other moe commodities / which profite may and please. 
Eke many certaine signes / of thinges betyde of olde. 
To fyll the houngry eyes of those / that curiously beholde : 
Doe make this towne to be / preferde aboue the rest 

12 Of Lurabard townes, or at the least / compared with the best. 
In which while £scalus, / as prince alone dyd raigne. 
To reache rewarde vnto the good, / to pay the lewde with payne. 
Alas (I re we to thinke) / an heauy happe befell : 

1 6 Which Boccace skant (not my rude tong) / were able forth to tell. 
Within my trembling hande, / my penne doth shake for feare : 
And on my colde amased head, / vpright doth stand my heare. 
fiut sith she doth commaunde, / whose hest I must obaye, 

ao In moorning verse, a wofuU chaunce / to tell I will assaye. 
Helpe learned Pallas, helpe, / ye muses with your arte, 
Helpe all ye damned feendes to tell, / of ioyes retournd to smart. 
Helpe eke ye sisters three, / my skillesse penne tindyte : 

24 For you it causd which I (alas) / vnable am to wryte. 

There were two auncient stockes, / which Fortune high dyd place 
Aboue the rest, indewd with welth, / and nobler of their race, 
Loued of the common sort, / loued of the Prince alike : 

28 And like vnhappy were they both, / when Fortune list to strike. 
Whose prayse with equall blast, / fame in her trumpet blew : 






The Tragical I history. 

Tilt 'c^ "arjrt cliped Capelet, / and thother Montagew. 

A TB '.z.icd Vie h h, J that men of likely sorte 
Ji I Ti -.t z.'A bv what fiir}*e forsd) / enuye eche others porta. 

>'- tloese, -Ji'hose egall state / bred enuye pale of hew, 

AsA :Len of grudging enuyes roote, / blacke hate and rancor grewe. 

Ai of 2 little sparke, / oft lyseth mighty fyre, 
i^j >v 'yf a kyndled sparke of grudge, / in flames flashe out theyr yre. 

A: A then theyr deadly foode, / first hatchd of trifling stiyfe : [/v». a] 

Did bathe in bloud of smarting woundes, / it reued breth and lyfe. 

No legend lye I tell, / scarce yet theyr eyes be drye : 
40 That did behold the grimly sight, /with wet and weping eye. 
/h\A -when the prudent prince, / who there the scepter helde 

So great a new disorder in / his common weale behelde : 

By ieutyl meane he sought, / their choler to asswage : 
44 ^rif^ *^y y^r^'i^'AJxt.n fQ appepjK'j / their blameful furious rage. 

Uul U^th his woords and tyme, / the prince hath spent in vayne : 

S*/ r^»t<:d was the inward hate, / he lost his buysy payne. 

When frendly sage aduise, / ne ieutj^ll woords auayle : 
4.S Bf thondring ibreatii, and princely powre / their courage gaa he q"ay^f} 
""^^Xu It^j^M: that when he had / the wasting flame supprest, 

iij umtz lie should quyte quench the sparks / that boornd within their 

Now %hiUt these kyndreds do / remayne in this estate, 

y^ AsA iptli*: 'Aiih outward frendly shew / dooth hyde his inward hate : 
^>ri«: KoiiJ^'Us, who wa-* / of race a Montague, 
Vp'/n w]ttAt', tender chyn, as yet, / no manly ke beard there grewe. 
Wliovr Urauty and whr>se shape / so farre the rest did stayne : 

j/^ TU'4t from the cheefe of Vcron youth / he greatest fame dyd gayne. 
If;ith founde a mayde so fayre / (he found so foule his happe) 
Who-*** U;;iuty, shape, and comely grace, / did so his heart entrappe, 
'J'liat from his owne affayres, / his thought she did remoue: 

^ On<-Iy he sought to honor her, / to serue her, and to loue. 
'Jo hi-r he writeth oft, / oft messengers are sent : 
A* h-n^Mh Cin h(;pe of better spede) / himselfe the louer went : 
I'^s'-nt to plrade for grace, / which absent was not founde: 

^4 Afi'l t^/ 'lis^oiKT to her eye / his new receaued wounde. 
IJ'.* i.fi*; I hut from her youth / was fostred euermore 



I .., 



of Romeus and luliet. 9 

With vertues foode, and taught in schole / of wisdomes skilfull lore : 
By aunswere did cutte of / thafFections of his loue, 

68 That he no more occasion had / so vayne a sute to raoue. 
So steme she was of chere, / (for all the payne he tooke) 
That in reward of toyle, she would / not geue a frendly looke. 
And yet how much she did / with constant mind retyre : 

J2 So much the more his feruent minde / was prickt fourth by desyre. 
But when he many monthes, / hopelesse of his recure, i^o. 3I 

Had serued her, who forced not / what paynes he did endure : 
At length he thought to leaue / Verona, and to proue, 

y6 If chaunge of place might chaunge awaye / his ill bestowed loue. 
And speaking to himselfe, / thus gan he make his mone : 
What booteth me to loue and serue / a fell vnthankfuU one, 
Sith that my humble sute / and labour sowede in vayne, 

80 Can reape none other fhiite at all / but scorne and proude disdayne : 
What way she seekes to goe, / the same I seeke to runne : 
But she the path wherin I treade, / with spedy flight doth shunne. 
I can not line, except / that nere to her I be : 

84 She is ay best content when she / is farthest of from me. 
Wherfore henceforth I will / farre from her take my flight ; 
Perhaps mine eye once banished / by absence from her sight : 
This fyre of myne, that by / her pleasant eyne is fed : 

88 Shall little and little weare away, / and quite at last be ded. 
But whilest he did decree / this purpose still to kepe : 
A contrary repugnant thought / sanke in his brest so depe : 
That doutefuU is he now, / which of the twayne is best : 

pa In sighs, in teares, in plainte, in care, / in sorow and vnrest. 
He mones the daye, he wakes / the long and wery night. 
So deepe hath loue with pearcing hand, / ygraud her bewty bright. 
Within his brest, and hath / so mastred quite his hart : 

96 That he of force must yeld as thrall, / no way is left to start. 
He can not staye his steppe, / but forth still must he ronne. 
He languisheth and melts awaye, / as snow against the sonne. 
His kyndred and alyes / do wonder what he ayles, 
100 And eche of them in frendly wise, / his heauy hap bewayles. 
But one emong the rest, / the trustiest of his feeres. 
Farre more then he with counsel flld, / and lyper of his yeeres. 



k» 






icf Tbuc ^ W3S i±ii:«v zt :ii!» aur:, Bui aariffr it !ii^ care 
'WhiE rmsufisc nun 3.-jiiu*j» muta jc -vosk iccns^ r3^ 
I>>:cii njke ruse 'jii]» ■inmiMB* rw^v. zdms: 3«9£ sartje .jf *hine Ji^.^ 
I3. xkfn^ Ins- riut K'jrat!^ joii Jxy- its Ji? srnzi "lii^ sgoc : 

TTt7 Tgarck thv j f - g a iiniti I'^ri^, ^e nine ^-socned :ririi '-"* *! 

Xvjw aur JUT a«xuss»iig» aiLi. jnii fiir zij iifaina I prar : 
I IX TT&ic taciL ami'gtccra aetrjine n-ne jwtis^ O feme 30 aacnt nraj. 

Izi :adC d^m JinoMC auco. d im:. "niJiL iixs&ac =L7 -arinf ^ iuire. 

Bct!t Tvoi^ dliJU JTt Jt 7^*n*K jaii li^ ji F'jrrmts ^racxt i. 

^ pmtuuil sCMieft 3K;iae. {-c*ac jamn^ xmsl zhatL Tcoof : 
ti>? Vb» wnfttcx» aamf Tcme jci«r ie*'^. :auTi ir^ nerr <;at»7 «:ciDe. 
>fc'b^ j:r^»CKr ^rtjftf -rrrji^st 3«a " *iitt wutiuL isiL^ iourt 
:^iK»aJAi >c '>f joi< rv ii>(rsae taf ieei^ iioeR hart - 

l^ WSrii j'Tttf^?* V/o< 3«f JtiiQ "xr ieirs ny nsrraia SBne arse. 

^*>^ IV KiK.*>»^ juu ;l^^ :jj^ ^sfr^ntr waici w jco^ dicii Ihanfe ia. 
K\HWs»w \.vW ^vtu«? >^t *iAW. "ifc* tofpw. "rum- e»«» io brni*if : 

M* \sH »u >ikMH^ v^Xh *;h;mv 5^>4w<«tf di* v:cj» vaaanac hiMt. 



of Romeus and luliet, 1 1 

140 That thou shah quite forget thy loue, / and passions past of olde. 
The yong mans lystning eare / receiude the holesome sounde. 
And reasons truth yplanted so, / within his head had grounde : 
That now with healthy coole / ytempred is the heate : 

144 And piecemeale weares away the greefe / that erst his heart dyd freate. 
To his approued frend, / a solemne othe he plight : IF0. 5] 

At euery feast ykept by day, /and banquet made by night : 
At pardons in the churche, / at games in open streate : 

148 And euery where he would resort / where Ladies wont to meete. 
£ke should his sauage heart / lyke all indifferently : 
For he would view and iudge them all / with vnallured eye. 
How happy had he been / had he not been forsworne : 

15a But twyse as happy had he been / had he been neuer borne. 
For ere the Moone could thryse / her wasted homes renew, 
False Fortune cast for him poore wretch, / a myschiefe newe to brewe. 
The wery winter nightes / restore the Christmas games : 

156 And now the season doth inuite / to banquet townish dames. 
And fyrst in Capels house, / the chiefe of all the kyn : 
Sparth for no cost, the wonted vse / of banquets to begyn. 
No Lady fay re or fowle / was in Verona towne : 

160 No knight or gentleman / of high or lowe renowne : 
But Capilet himselfe / hath byd vnto his feast : 
Or by his name in paper sent, / appoynted as a geast. ""' 
Yong damsels thether flocke, / of bachelers a rowte : 

164 Not so much for the banquets sake, / as bewties to searche out. 
But not a Montagew / would enter at his gate : 
For as you heard, the Capilets, / and they were at debate. 
Saue Romeus, and he / in maske with hidden face : 

168 The suppei^one, with other fine / dyd prease into the place. 
When they had maskd a whyle, / with dames in courtly wise : 
All dyd vnmaske, the rest dyd shew / them to theyr ladies eyes. 
But bashfull Romeus /with shamefast face forsooke 

172 The open prease, and him withdrew / into the chambers nooke. 
But brighter then the sunne, / the waxen torches shone : 
That mauger what he could, he was / espyd of euery one. 
But of the women cheefe, / theyr gasing eyes that threwe 

176 To woonder at his sightly shape / and bewties spotles bewe. 



12 The Tragicall history. 

"Whli TLxh the heauens him had / and nature so bedect : 

Tsjs Ladies thought the fayrest dames / were fowie in his respect. 

AzA m theyr head beside, / an other woonder rose, 
i%o Hfjw be durst put himselfe in throng / among so manj foes. 

Of cr/orage stoute they thought / his cumming to procede : I/v». 6j 

And women loue an hardy hart / as I in stories rede. 

The Capilets disda^^e / the piesence of theyr foe : 
184 Yet they suppresse theyr styrred yre, / the cause I do not knowe. 

Perhaps toflfend theyr gestes /the courteous knights are loth. 

Perhaps they stay from sharpe reucnge, / dread}Tig the Princes wroth. 

Perhaps for that they shamd / to exercise theyr rage : 
188 Within their house, gaiiist one alone / and him of tender age. 

They vse no taunting talke, / ne harrae him by theyr deede : 

The}' nej-ther say, what makst them here, / ne yet they say God speede. 

So that he freely might / the Ladles view at ease: 
'9* And they also behelding him, / their chaunge of fansies please. 

Which nature had him taught / to doe with such a grace. 

That there was none bat ioyed at / his being there in place. 

With vpright bearae he wayd / the bewty of eche dame, 
!$/> And iudgd who best, and who next her, / was wrought in natures frame. 

At length he saw a mayd, / right fayre of perfect shape : 

Which Theseus, or Paris would / haue chosen to their rape. 

Whom erst he neuer sawe, / of all she pleasde him most : 
200 Within himselfe he said to her, / thou iustly mayst thee boste. 

Of perfit shapes renoune, / and Beauties sounding prayse : 

Wh'ise like ne halh, ne shalbe scene, / ne liueth in our dayes. 

And whilest he fixd on her / his partiall perced eye, 
Mi^ Hi* former loue, for which of late / he ready was to dye. 

K nowe as quite forgotte, / as it had neuer been : 

'Jlie prouerbe saith vn minded oft / are they that are vnseene. 

And a» 'nit of a planke / a nayle a nayle doth driue: 
11/A ^-v; fM/ii<;II loue out of the minde / the auucient loue doth riue. 

'|1;i» ^Aain kindled fyre / in time is wox so great : 
j 'i i/4i '/JM'ly death, and both theyr blouds / might quench the fiery heate. 

I 7/>*^'fi H'/fneuH saw himselfe / in this new tempest tost : 

Itf^jf /''V^*^ ^/'y'h 'Aa-j hope of pleasant port, / and daunger to be lost: 

;|.t -iviv /'fiiJI, tikanly knew / what countenance to keepe 



i 



of Romeiis and lullet, 13 

In Lethies floud his wonted flames / were quenchd and drenched deepe. 
Yea he forgets himselfe, / ne is the wretch so bolde 

2 16 To aske her name, that without force / hath him in bondage folde. 
Ne how tunloose his bondes / doth the poore foole deuise, l^Fa. 7] 

But onely seeketh by her sight / to feede his houngry eyes 
Through them he swalloweth downe / loues sweete empoysonde baite^ 

220 How surely are the wareles wrapt / by those that lye in wayte? 
So is the poyson spred / throughout his bones and vaines : 
That in a while (alas the while) / it hasteth deadly paines. 
Whilst luliet (for so / this gentle damsell hight) 

224 From syde to syde on euery one / dyd cast about her sight : 
At last her floting eyes / were ancored fast on him. 
Who for her sake dyd banishe health / and fredome from eche limme. 
He in her sight did seeme / to passe the rest as farre 

228 As Phoebus shining beanies do passe / the brightnes of a starre. 
In wayte laye warlike loue / with golden bowe and shafts 
And to his eare with steady hand / the bowstring vp he raft. 
Till now she had escapde / his sharpe inflaming darte : 

232 Till now he listed not assaulte / her yong and tender hart. 
His whetted arrow loosde, / so touchd her to the quicke : 
That through the eye it strake the hart, / and there the hedde did sticke. 
It booted not to striue, / for why, she wanted strength : 

236 The weaker nye vnto the strong / of force must yeld at length. 
The pomps now of the feast / lier heart gyns to despyse : 
And onely ioyeth when her eyen / meete with her louers eyes. 
When theyr new smitten heart es / had fed on louing gleames : 

240 Whilst passing too and fro theyr eyes / ymingled were theyr beames. 
Eche of these louers gan / by others lookes to knowe : 
That fi^ndship in their brest had roote, / and both would haue it grow. 
When thus in both theyr harts / had Cupide made his breache : 

244 And eche of them had sought the meane / to end the warre by speache. 
Dame Fortune did assent / theyr purpose to aduaunce : 
With torche in hand a comly knight / did fetch her foorth to daunce. 
She quit her selfe so well, / and with so trim a grace : 

248 That she the cheefe prayse wan that night / from all Verona race. 
The whilst our Romeus, / a place had warely wonne : 
Nye to the seate where she must sit, / the daunce once beyng donne. 



14 The Tragicall history, 

Fayre luliet tourned to, / her chayre with pleasant cheere : 
^S^ And glad she was her Romeus / approched was so neere. 

At thone side of her chayre, / her louer Romeo : [Fa. s] 

And on the other side there sat / one cald Mercutio. 

A courtier that eche where / was highly had in pryce : 
256 For he was coorteous of his speche, / and pleasant of deuise. 

£uen as a Lyon would / emong the lambes be bolde : 

Such was emong the bashfuU maydes, / Mercutio to beholde. 

With frendly gripe he ceasd / fayre luliets snowish hand : 
260 A gyft he had that nature gaue / him in his swathing band. 

That frosen mountayne yse / was neuer halfe so cold 

As were his handes, though nere so neer / the fire he dyd them holde. 

As soone as had the knight / the vyrgins right hand raught : 
264 Within his trembling hand her left / hath louing Romeus caught. 

For he wist well himselfe / for her abode most payne : 

And well he wist she loued him best, / vnles she list to fayne. 

Then she with tender hand / his tender palme hath prest : 
268 What ioy, trow you was grafFed so / in Romeus clouen brest ? 

The soodain sweete delight / hath stopped quite his tong : 

Ne can he claime of her his right, / ne craue redresse of wrong. 

But she espyd straight waye / by chaunging of his hewe 
272 From pafe to red, from red to pale, / and so from pale anewe : 

That vehment loue was cause, / why so his tong dyd stay : 

And so much more she longdeto heare/ what loue could teache himsaye. 

When she had* longed long, / and he long held his peace, 
276 And her desire of hearing him, / by sylence dyd encrease. 

At last with trembling voyce / and shamefast chere, the mayde 

Vnto her Romeus tournde her selfe, / and thus to him she sayde. 

O blessed be the time / of thy arriuall here : 
280 But ere she could speake forth the rest, / to her loue drewe so nere : 

And so within her mouth, / her tong he glewed fast. 

That no one woord could scape her more, / then what already past. 

In great contented ease / the yong man straight is rapt, 
284 What chaunce (q* he) vnware to me / O lady myne is hapt ? 

That geues you worthy cause, / my cumming here to blisse : 

Fayre luliet was come agayne / vnto her selfe by this. 

Fyrst ruthfully she lookd, / then sayd with smylyng cheere : 



of Romeus and luliet. 15 

288 Meruayle no whit my heartes delight, / my onely knight and fere. 

Mercutioiw ysy hande / had all to frosen myne [/*. 9j 

And of thy goodnes thou agayne / hast warmed it with thine. 

Whereto with stayed brow, / gan Romeus to replye 
292 If so the gods haue graunted me, / suche fauour from the skye. 

That by my being here, / some seruice I haue donne 

That pleaseth you I am as glad, / as I a realme had wonne^ 

O wel bestowed tyme. / that hath the happy hyre, 
296 Which I woulde wysh if I might haue, / my wished harts desire. 

For I of God woulde craue, / as pryse of paynes forpast. 

To serue, obey, and honor you, / so long as lyfe shall last. 

As proofe shall teache you playne, / if that you like to trye 
300 His faltles truth, that nill for ought, / vnto his lady lye. 

But if my tooched hand, / haue warmed yours some dele 

Assure your self the heat is colde, / which in your hand you fele. 

Compard to suche quick sparks / and glowing furious gleade 
304 As from your bewties pleasaunt eyne, / loue caused to proceade. 

Which haue so set on fyre, / eche feling parte of myne. 

That lo, my myude doeth melt awaye : / my vtwerd parts doe pyne. 

And but you helpe all whole, / to ashes shall I toome : 
308 Wherfore (alas) haue ruth on him, / whom you do force to boorue. 

£uen with his ended tale, / the torches daunce had ende. 

And luliet of force must part / from her new chosen frend. 

His hand she clasped hard, / and all her partes did shake : 
3 1 2 When lay sureles with whispring voyce / thus did she aunswer make. 

You are no more your owne / (deare frend) then I am yours 

(My honor saued) prest tobay / your will, while life endures. 

I^ here the lucky lot / that sild true louers finde : 
316 Eche takes away the others hart, / and leaues the owne behinde. 

A happy life is loue / if God graunt from aboue. 

That hart with hart by euen waight / doo make exchaunge of loue. 

But Romeus gone from her, / his heart for care is colde : 
320 He hath forgot to aske her name / that hath his hart in holde. 

With forged careles cheere, / of one he seekes to knowe. 

Both how she hight, and whence she camme, / that him enchaunted so. 

So hath he leamd her name, / and knowth she is no geast. 
324 Her father was a Capilet, / and master of the feast. 



1 6 The Tragicall history. 

Thus hath his foe in choyse / to geue him lyfe or death : [Fo, lo] 

ITiat scarsely can his wofull brest / keepe in the liuely breath. 

Wherfore with piteous plaint / feerce Fortune doth he blame : 
328 lliat in his ruth and wretched plight / doth seeke her laughing game. 

And he reproueth loue, / cheefe cause of his vnrest : 

Who ease and freedome hath exilde / out of his youthfull brest. 

Twyse hath he made him seme, / hopeles of his rewarde : 
332 Of both the ylles to choose the lesse,/ I weene the choyse were harde. 

Fyrst to a ruth lesse one / he made him sue for grace : 

And now with spurre he forceth him / to ronne an endles race. 

Amyd these stormy seas / one ancor doth him holde, 
336 He serueth not a cruell one, / as he had done of olde. 

And therfore is content, / and chooseth still to serue : 

Though hap should sweare that guerdonles / the wretched wight 
should sterue. 

The lot of Tantalus / is Romeus lyke to thine 
340 For want of foode amid his foode, / the myser sty 11 doth pine. 

As carefull was the mayde / what way were best deuise 

To leame his name, that intertaind / her in so gentle wise. 

Of whome her hart receiued / so deepe, so wyde a wounde, 
yT 344 An auncient dame she calde to her, / and in her eare gan rounde. 

This olde dame in her youth, / had nurst her with her mylke. 

With slender nedle taught her sow, / and how to spin with silke. 

What twayne are those (quoth she) / which prease vnto the doore, 
348 Whose pages in theyr hand doe beare, / two toorches light before. 

And then as eche of them / had of his houshold name. 

So she him namde yet once agayne / the yong and wyly dame. 

And tell me who is he / with vysor in his hand 
3J2 That yender doth in masking weede / besyde the window stand. 

His name is Romeus / (said she) a Montegewe. 

WhoJie fathers pryde first styrd the strife / which both your hous- 
holdes re we. 

The wrx)rd of Montegew, / her ioyes did ouerthrow, 
J5^ Arid straight in steade of happy hope, / dyspayre began to growe. 
v^yiiat liap haue I quoth she, / to loue my fathers foe ? 

WhJl, am I wery of my wele ? / what, doe I wishe my woe ? 

liut tii'/ugh her grieuous paynes / distraind her tender hart« 



of Romeus and luliet. 17 

360 Yet with an outward shewe of ioye / she cloked inward smart. 

And of the courtlyke dames / her leaue so courtly tooke, [Fo. «] 

That none dyd gesse the sodaiu change / by changing of her looke. 

Then at her mothers hest / to chamber she her hyde 
364 So well she fiaynde, mother ne nurce, / the hidden harme descride. 

But when she should haue slept / as wont she was, in bed. 

Not halfe a winke of quiet slepe / could barber in her bed 

For loe, an hugy heape / of dyuers thoughtes arise 
368 That rest haue banisht from her hart, / and slumber from her eyes. 

And now from side to side / she tosseth and she tumes. 

And now for feare she sheuereth, / and now for loue she bumes. 

And now she lykes her choyse, / and now her choyse she blames, 
372 And now eche houre within her head / a thousand fansies frames 

Sometime in mynde to stop, / amyd her course begonne 

Sometime she vowes what so betyde, / thattempted race to ronne. 

Thus dangers dred and loue, / within the mayden fought, 
376 The fight was feerce continuyng long / by their contrary thought. 

In tourning mase of loue / she wandreth too and fro. 

Then standeth doubtfiill what to doe, / last ouerprest with woe. 

How so her faiisies cease, / her teares dyd neuer blyn, 
380 With heauy cheere and wringed hands / thus doth her plaint beg)Ti. 
• Ah sily foole (quoth she) / ycought in soottill snare : 

Ah wretched wench, bewrapt in woe, / ah caytife clad with care. 

Whence come these wandring thoughtes / to thy vnconstant brest ? 
384 By straying thus from raysons lore, / that reue thy wonted rest. 

What if his suttell brayne / to fayne haue taught his tong. 

And so the snake that lurkes in grasse /thy tender hart hath stong? 

What if with frendly speache / the traytor lye in wayte ? 
388 As oft the poysond hooke is hid, / wrapt in the pleasant bayte ? 

Oft vnder cloke of truth / hath falshod serued her lust j 

And toomd theyr honor into shame, / that did so slightly trust. 

What, was not Dido so, / a crouned Queene, defamd ? 
392 And eke, for such an heynous cryme, / haue men not Theseus blamd ? 

A thousand stories more, / to teache me to beware. 

In Boccace and in Ouids bookes / too playnely written are. 

Perhaps, the great reuenge / he cannot woorke by strength, 
396 By suttel sleight (my honor staynde) / he hopes to worke at length. 

ROMEUS 2 



1 8 The Tragicall history. 

So shall I seeke to finde / my fathers foe, his game ; [Fo. xa] 

So I befylde Report shall take / her trompe of blacke defame. 

Whence she with puffed cheeke / shall blowe a blast so shrill 
400 Of my disprayse, that with the noyse / Verona shall she fill. 

Then I, a laughing stocke / through all the towne becomme. 

Shall hide my selfe, but not my shame, / within an hoUowe toombe. 

Straight vndemeth her foote / she treadeth in the dust 
404 Her troublesom thought, as wholy vaine, / ybred of fond distrust. 

No, no, by God aboue, / I wot it well, quoth shee. 

Although I rashely spake before, /in no wise can it bee. 

That where such perfet shape / with pleasant bewty restes, 
408 There crooked craft and trayson blacke / should be appoynted gestes. 

Sage writers say, the thoughts / are dwelling in the eyne ; 

Then sure I am, as Cupid raignes, / that Romeus is myne. 

The tong the messenger / eke call tliey of the mynd ; 
412 So that I see he loueth me, / shall I then be vnkynd? 
. His faces rosy hew / I saw full oft to st»eke j 

And straight againe it flashed foorth, / and spred in eyther cheeke. 

His fyxed heauenly eyne / that through me quite did perce 
416 His thoughts vnto my hart, ray thought / they semed to rehearce. 

What ment his foltring tunge / in telling of his tale ? 

The trembling of his ioynts, and eke / his cooller waxen pale ? 

And whilst 1 talkt with him, / hym self he hath exylde 
420 Out of him self (as seemed me) / ne was I sure begylde. 

Those arguments of loue / craft wrate not in his face. 

But natures hande, when all deceyte / was banishd out of place. 

What other certayn signes / seke I of his good wil ? 
424 These doo suffise j and stedfast I / will loue and serue him still. 

Till Attropos shall cut / my fatal! thread of lyfe. 

So that he mynde to make of me / his lawfull wedded wyfe. 

For so perchaunce this new / aliance may procure 
428 Vnto our houses such a peace / as euer shall endure. 

Oh how we can perswade / our self to what we like. 

And how we can diswade our mynd, / if ought our mynd mislyke. 

Weake arguments are stronge, / our fansies streyght to frame 
432 To pleasing things, and eke to shonne, / if we mislike the same. 

The mayde had scarsely yet / ended the wery warre, l^a. 13] 



of Romeus and luliet. 



19 



Kept in her heart by striuing thoughtes, / when euery shining starre 

Had payd his borowed lights / and Phebus spred in skies 
43^ His golden rayes, which seemd to say, / now time it is to rise. 

And Romeus had by this / forsaken his wery bed. 

Where restles he a thousand thoughts / had forged in his hed. 

And while with lingring step / by Juliets house he past, 
440 And vpward to her windowes high / his gredy eyes did cast : 

His loue that looked for him / there gan he straight espie. 

With pleasant cheere eche greeted is j / she followeth with her eye 

His parting steppes, and he / oft looketh backe againe, 
444 But not so oft as he desyres j / warely he doth refraine. 

What life were lyke to loue, / if dred of ieopardy 

Ysowred not the sweete j if loue / were free from ielosy. 

But she more sure within, / vnseene of any wight, 
448 When so he comes, lookes after him / till he be out of sight. 

In often passing so, / his busy eyes he threw. 

That euery pane and tooting hole / the wily louer knew. 

In happy houre he doth / a garden plot espye, 
45a From which, except he warely walke, / men may his loue descry e 5 

For lo, it fronted frill / vpon her leaning place. 

Where she is woont to shew her heart / by cheerefrill frendly face. 

And lest the arbors might / theyr secret loue bewraye, 
4 j6 He doth keepe backe his forward foote / from passing there by daye ; 

But when on earth the night / her mantel blacke hath spred, 
* Well armd he walketh foorth alone, / ne dreadfriU foes doth dred. 

Whom maketh loue not bold, / naye whom makes he not blynde ? 
460 He reueth daungers dread oft times / out of the louers minde. 

By night he passeth here, / a weeke or two in vayne ; 

And for the missing of his marke, / his griefe hath him nye slaine. 

And luliet that now / doth lacke her hearts releefe : 
464 Her Romeus pleasant eyen (I meene) / is almost dead for greefe. 

Eche day she chaungeth howres / (for louers keepe an howre) 

When they are sure to see theyr loue, / in passing by their bowre. 

Impacient of her woe, / she hapt to leane one night 
468 Within her window, and anon / the Moone did shine so bright 

That she espyde her loue, / her hart reuiued, sprang ; [Fa. 14] 

And now for ioy she clappes her handes, / which erst for woe she wrang. 



20 The Tragicall history. 

Eke Romens, when he sawe / his long desired sight, 
472 His moorning cloke of mone cast of, / hath clad him with delight. 

Yet dare 1 say, of both / that she reioyced more : 

His care was great, hers twise as great / was all the tyme before ; 
For whilst she knew not why / he dyd himselfe absent, 
47^ Ay douting both his health and lyfe, / his death she dyd lament. 
For loue is fearefuU oft, / where is no cause of feare : 
And what loue feares, that loue laments, / as though it chaunced wcare. 
Of greater cause alway / is greater woorke ybred : 
480 While he nought douteth of her belth, / she dreads lest he be ded. 
When onely absence is / the cause of Romeus smart : 
By happy hope of sight agayne / he feedes his faynting hart. 
What woonder then if he / were wrapt in lesse annoye ? 
484 What maruell if by sodain sight / she fed of greater ioye ? 
His smaller greefe or ioy / no smaller loue doo proue 5 
Ne, for she passed him in both, / did she him passe in loue : 
But eche of them alike / dyd burne in equall fiame, 
488 The welbelouing knight, and eke / the welbeloued dame. 
Now whilst with bitter teares / her eyes as fountaynes ronne : 
With whispering voyce, ybroke with sobs, / thus is her tale begonne : 
Oh Romeus (of your lyfe) / too lauas sure you are : 
49* That in this place, and at thys tyme / to hasard it you dare. 
What if your dedly foes / my kynsmen, saw you here ? 
Lyke Lyons wylde, your tender partes / asonder would they teare. 
In ruth and in disdayne, / 1, weary of my life : 
49^ With cruell hand my moorning hart / would perce with bloudy knyfe. 
For you, myne owne once dead, / what ioy should I haue heare ? 
And eke my honor staynde which I / then lyfe doe holde more deare. 
Fayre lady myne, dame luliet, / my lyfe (quod he) 
500 Euen from my byrth committed was / to fatall sisters three. 
They may in spyte of foes, / draw foorth my liucly threed j 
And they also, who so sayth nay, / a sonder may it shreed. 
But who to reaue my lyfe, / his rage and force would bende, 
J04 Perhaps should trye vnto his payne / how I it could defcnde. 

Ne yet I loue it so, / but alwayes, for your sake, tFo. 15] 

A sacrifice to death 1 would / my wounded corps betake. 
If my mishappe wete such, / that here, before your sight. 



of Romeus and luliet, 2 1 

508 I should restore agayne to death, / of lyfe my borowde hght. 
This one thing and no more / my parting sprite would rewe : 
That part he should, before that you / by certaine triall knew 
The loue I owe to you, / the thrall 1 languish in : 

51a And how I dread to loose the gayne / which I doe hope to win : 
And how I wishe for lyfe, / not for my propre ease : 
But that in it, you might I loue, / you honor, seme and please. 
Tyll dedly pangs the sprite / out of the corps shall send : 

516 And therupon he sware an othe, / and so his tale had ende. 
Now loue and pitty boyle / in luliets ruthfuU brest. 
In windowe on her leaning arme / her weary hed doth rest 
Her bosome bathd in teares, / to witnes inward payne, 

520 With dreary chere to Romeus / thus aunswerd she agayne 
Ah my deere Romeus, / keepe in these woordes (quod she) 
For lo, the thought of such mischaunce, / already maketh me 
For pitty and for dred / welnigh to yelde vp breath : 

524 In euen ballance peysed are / my life and eke my death. 
For so my hart is knitte, / yea, made one selfe with yours : 
That sure there is no greefe so small, / by which your mynde endures. 
But as you suffer payne, / so I doe beare in part : 

528 (Although it lessens not your greefe) / the halfe of all your smart. 
But these thinges ouerpast, / if of your health and myne 
You haue respect, or pitty ought / my teary weping eyen : 
In few vnfained woords / your hidden mynd vnfolde, 

53* That as I see your pleasant face, / your heart I may beholde. 
For if you doe intende / my honor to defile : 
In error shall you wander still / as you haue done this whyle. 
But if your thought be chaste, / and haue on vertue ground, 

53^ If wedlocke be the ende and marke / which your desire hath found : 
Obedience set aside, / vnto my parentes dewe : 
The quarell eke that long agoe / betwene our housholdes grewe : 
Both me and myne I will / all whole to you betake : 

540 And following you where so you goe, / my fathers house forsake. 
But if by wanton loue, / and by vnlawfidl sute. [/"<». x6] 

You thinke in ripest yeres to plucke / my maydenhods dainty frute : 
You are begylde, and now / your luliet you be seekes 

544 To cease your sute, and suffer her / to line emong her likes. 



22 Th£ Tragicall history. 

Then Romeus, whose thought / was free from fowle desyre : 
And to the top of vertues haight / did worthely asp3Te : 
Was fild with greater loj / then can my pen expresse : 

548 Or, till they haue enioyd the like / the hearers hart can gesse. 
And then with ioyned hands / heaud vp into the skies : 
He thankes the Gods, and from the heauens / for vengeance downe 

he cries. 
If he haue other thought, / but as his lady spake : 

55* And then his looke he toornd to her, / and thus did aunswer make. 
Since Lady, that you like / to honor me so much. 
As to accept me for your spouse, / I yeld my selfe for such. 
In true witnes wherof, / because I must depart, 

556 Till that my deede do proue my woord, / I leaue in pawne my hart. 
To morow eke betimes, / before the sunne arise : 
To fryer Lawrence will I wende, / to learne his sage aduise. 
He is my gostly syre, / and oft he hath me taught 

560 What I should doe in things of wayght, / when I his ayde haue sought. 
And at this selfe same houre, / I plyte you here my fayth : 
I wil be here (if you thinke good) / to tell you what he sayth. 
She was contented well, / els fauour found he none 

5^4 That night, at lady luliets hand, / saue pleasant woordes alone. 
This barefoote fryer gyrt / with cord his grayish weede. 
For he of Frauncis order was, / a fryer as I reede. 
Not as the most was he, / a grosse vnlearned foole : 

568 But doctor of diuinitie / proceded he in schoole. 

The secretes eke he knew, / in natures woorkes that loorke : 

By magiks arte most men supposd / that he could wonders woorke. 

Ne doth it ill beseeme / deuines those skils to know : 

572 If on no harmefull deede they do / such skilfiilnes bestow. 
For iustly of no arte / can men condemne the vse : 
But right and reasons lore crye out / agaynst the lewd abuse. 
The bounty o the fryer / and wisdom hath so wonne 

576 The townes folks herts, that welnigh all / to fryer Lawrence ronne. 
To shriue them selfe the olde, / the yong, the great and small : [J^o. 17] 
Of all he is beloued well, / and honord much of all. 
And for he did the rest / in wisdome farre exceede : 

580 The prince by him (his counsell craude) / was holpe at time of neede. 



/ 



i 



of Romeus and luliet. 



23 



Betwixt the Capilets / and him great frendship grew : 

A secret and assured frend / vnto the Montegue. 

Loued of this yong man more / then any other gest, 
584 The frier eke of Verone youth / aye liked Romeus best. 

For whom he euer hath / in time of his distres : 

(As erst you heard) by skilfull lore / found out his harmes redresse. 

To him is Romeus gonne, / ne stayth he till the morowe : 
588 To him he pasnteth all his case, / his passed ioy and sorow. 

How he hath her espyde / with other dames in daunce. 

And how that first to talke with her, / himselfe he did aduaunce ; 

Their talke and change of lookes / he gan to him declare : 
59* And how so fast by fayth and troth / they both ycoupled are. 

That neither hope of lyi^, / nor dreed 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 gostly syre 
59^ To further and accomplish all / theyr honest hartes desire. 

A thousand doutes and moe / in thold mans hed arose : 

A thousand daungers like to come, / the olde man doth disclose^ 

And from the spousall rites / he readeth him refrayne : 
600 Perhaps he shalbe bet aduisde / within a weeke or twayne. 

Aduise is banishd quite / from those that followe loue. 

Except aduise to what they like / theyr bending mynde do moue. 

As well the father might / haue counseld him to stay 
604 That from a mountaines top thrown downe, / is falling halfe the way : 

As wame his frend to stop, / amyd his race begonne. 

Whom Cupid with his smarting whip / enforceth foorth to ronne. 

Part wonne by earnest sute, / the fryer doth graunt at last : 
608 And part, because he thinkes the stormes / so lately ouerpast. 

Of both the housholdes wrath / this manage might apease, 

So that they should not rage agayne, / but quite for euer cease. 

The respite of a day / he askcth to deuyse : 
612 What way were best, vnknowne to ende / so great an enterprise. 

The wounded man that now / doth dedly paines endure : [Fo. 18] 

Scarce pacient tarieth whilst his leeche / doth make the salue to cure. 

So Romeus hardly graunts / a short day and a night, 
616 Yet nedes he must^ els must he want / his oneljr hearts delights 



24 



The Tragicall history. 



You see that Romeus / no time or payne- doth spare : 
Thinke that the whilst fayre luliet / is not deuoyde of care. 
Yong Romeus powreth foorth / his hap and his mishap^ 

620 Into the friers brest, but where / shall luliet vnwrap 
The secretes of her hart ? / to whom shall she vnfolde. 
Her hidden burning loue, and eke / her thought and cares so colde. 
The nurce of whom I spake / within her chaumber laye : 

624 Vpon the mayde she wayteth still, / to her she doth bewray 
Her new receiued wound, / and then her ayde doth craue : 
In her she saith it lyes to spill, / in her, her life to saue. 
Not easely she made / the firoward nurce to bowe : 

628 But wonne at length, with promest hyre / she made a solemne vowe. 
To do what she commaundes, / as handmayd of her hest : 
Her mistres secrets hide she will, / within her couert brest. 
To Romeus she goes / of him she doth desyre, 

632 To know the meane of mariage / by councell of the fryre. 
On Saterday, quod he, / if luliet come to shrift. 
She shalbe shriued and maried, / how lyke you noorse this drift ? 
Now by my truth (quod she) / gods blessing haue your hart : 

636 For yet in all my life I haue / not heard of such a part. 
Lord, how you yong men can / such crafty wiles deuise. 
If that you loue the daughter well / to bleare the mothers eyes. 
An easy thing it is / with cloke of holines, 

640 To mocke the sely mother that / suspecteth nothing lesse 
But that it pleased you / to tell me of the case. 
For all my many yeres perhaps, / I should have found it scarse. 
Now for the rest let me / and luliet alone : 

644 To get her leaue, some feate excuse / I will deuise anone. 
For that her golden lockes / by sloth haue been vnkempt : 
Or for vnwares some wanton dreame / the youthfiill damsell drempt. 
Or for in thoughts of loue / her ydel time she spent : 

648 Or otherwise within her hart / deserued to be shent. 

I know her mother will / in no case say her nay : [F0. 19] 

I warrant you she shall not fayle / to come on Saterday. 
And then she sweares to him, / the mother loues her well : 

652 And how she gaue her sucke in youth / she leaueth not to tell. 
A prety babe (quod she) / it was when it was yong : 



of Romeus and luliei. 



^5 



Lord how it could full pretely / haue prated with it tong. 

A thousand times and more / I laid her on my lappe, 
6^6 And clapt her on the buttocke soft / and kist where I did clappe. 

And gladder then was I / of such a kisse forsooth : 

Then I had been to haue a kisse / of some olde lechers mouth. 

And thus of luliets youth / began this prating noorse, 
660 And of her present state to make / a tedious long discoorse. 

For though he pleasure tooke / in hearing of his loue : 

The message aunswer seemed him / to be of more behoue. 

But when these Beldams sit / at ease vpon theyr tayle : 
664 The day and eke the candle light / before theyr talke shall fayle. 

And part they say is true, / and part they do deuise : 

Yet boldly do they chat of both / when no man checkes theyr lyes. 

Then he .vi. crownes of gold / out of his pocket drew : 
668 And gaue them her, a slight reward / (quod he) and so adiew. 

In seuen yeres twise tolde / she had not bowd so lowe. 

Her crooked knees, as now they bowe, / she sweares she will bestowe. 

Her crafty wit, her time, / and all her busy payne, 
672 To helpe him lo his hoped blisse, / and, cowring downe agayne : 

She takes her leaue, and home / she hyes with spedy pace : 

The chaumber dpore she shuts, and then / she saith with smyling face. 

Good newes for thee, my gyrle, / good tidinges I thee bring : 
676 Leaue of thy woonted song of care / and now of pleasure sing. 

For thou mayst hold thy selfe / the happiest vnder sonne : 

That in so little while, so well / so worthy a knight hast wonne. 

The best yshapde is he, / and hath the fayrest &ce, 
680 Of all this towne, and there is none / hath halfe so good a grace. 

So gentle of his speche, / and of his counsel 1 wise : 

And still with many prayses more / she heaued him to the skies. 

Tell me els what (quod she) / this euermore I thought : 
684 But of our mariage say at once, / what aunswer haue you brought ? 

Nay, soft, quoth she, I feare, / your hurt by sodain ioye : , iFo. ao] 

I list not play quoth luliet, / although thou list to toye. 

How glad, trow you was she, / when she had heard her say : 
688 No farther of then Saterday, / differred was the day. 

Againe the auncient nurce / doth speake of Romeus^ 

And then (said she) he spake to me, / and then I spake him thus. 



%6 The Tragicall history. 

Nothing was done or said, / that she hath left vntolde, 

<^a Saue onely one, that she forgot / the taking of the golde. 

There is no losse, quod she, / (sweete wench) to losse of time : 
Ne in thine age shalt thou repent / so much of any crime. 
For when I call to mynde, / my former passed youth : 

6g6 One thing there is which most of all / doth cause my endles ruth. 
At sixtene yeres I first / did choose my louing feere : 
And I was fully ripe before, (I dare well say) a yere. 
The pleasure that I lost, / that yere so ouerpast : 

700 A thousand times I haue bewept, / and shall while lyfe doth last. 
In fayth it were a shame, / yea sinne it were, ywisse. 
When thou mayst Hue in happy ioy / to set light by thy blisse. 
She that this momyng could / her mistres mynde disswade, 

704 Is now becomme an Oratresse, / her lady to perswade. 
If any man be here / whom loue hath clad with care : 
To him I speake, if thou wilt spede, / thy purse thou must not spare. 
Two sortes of men there are, / seeld welcome in at doore : 

708 The welthy sparing nigard, and / the sutor that is poore. 
For glittring gold is woont / by kynd to mooue the hart : 
And often tiroes a slight rewarde / doth cause a more desart 
Ywritten haue I red, / I wot not in what booke, 

712 There is no better way to fishe, / then with a golden hooke. 
Of Romcus these two, / doe sitte and chat a while. 
And to them selfe they laugh, how they / the mother shall begyle. 
A feate excuse they fiude, / but sure I know it not : 

716 And leaue for her to goe to shrift / on Saterday she got. 
So well this lulict, / this wyly wench dyd know 
Her mothers angry houres, and eke / the true bent of her bowe. 
The Saterday betimes / in sober weede yclad, 

710 She tooke her leaue, and forth she went / with visage graue and sad. 
With her the nurce is sent / as brydle of her lust : iFo. ax] 

With her the mother sendes a mayde, / almost of equall trust. 
Betwixt her teeth the bytte / the lenet now hath cough t : 

724 80 warely eke the vyrgin walkes / her mayde perceiueth nought. 
She gaieth not in churche, / on yong men of the towne : 
Nc wandrcth she from place to place, / but straight she kneleth downe 
Vpun an alten step, / where she deuoutly prayes : 



J 



^MMM 



of Rameus and lulieL 27 

7*^ And there vpon her tender knees / the wery lady stayes : 
Whilst she doth send her mayde / the certain truth to know. 
If fryer Lawrence laysure had, / to heare her shrifl, or no. 
Out of his shriuing place / he commes with pleasant cheere : 

732 The sharoefast mayde with bashful! brow / to himward draweth neere. 
Some great offence (q* he) / you haue committed late : 
Perhaps you haue displeasd your frend, / by geuiug him a mate. 
Then turning to the nurce, / and to the other mayde : 

73^ Goe heare a masse or two quod he, / which straight way thalbe 
sayde. 
For, her confession heard, / I will vnto you twayne 
The charge that I receiud of you, / restore to you agayne. 
What, was not luliet / trow you, right well apayde ? 

740 That for this trusty fryre hath chaungde / her yong mistrusting 
mayde ? 
I dare well say there is / in all Verona none : 
But Romeus, with whom she would / so gladly be alone. 
Thus to the fryers cell, / they both foorth walked bin : 

744 He shuts the doore as soone as he / and luliet were in. 
But Romeus, her frend, / was entred in before : 
And there had way ted for his loue, / two bowers large and more. 
Eche minute seemde an howre, / and euery howre a day : 

748 Twixt hope he liued and despayre, / of cumming or of stay. 
Now wauering hope and feare, / are quite fled out of sight. 
For, what he hopde he hath at hande / his pleasant cheefe delight. 
And ioyfull luliet / is healde of all her smart : 

752 For now the rest of all her parts, / haue found her straying hart. 
Both theyr confessions flrst / the fiyer hath heard them make : 
And then to her with lowder voyce / thus fryer Lawrence spake. 
Fayre lady luliet / my gostly doughter deere : 

756 As farre as I of Romeus leame / who by you standeth here : 

Twixt you it is agreed / that you shalbe his wyfe : l^a. m] 

And he your spouse in steady truth / till death shall end your life. 
Are you both fully bent / to kepe this great behest ? 

760 And both the louers said it was / theyr onely harts request. 
When he did see theyr myndes / in linkes of loue so fiast : 
When in the prayse of wedlocks state / somme skilfull talke was past. 



28 The Tragical I history. 

When he had told at length / tlie wife what was her due : 

7^4 His duety eke by gostly talke / the youthfull husband knew. 
How that the wife in loue / must honor and obay : 
What loue and honor he doth owe, / and dette that he must pay. 
The woords pronounced were / which holy church of olde 

7^8 Appointed hath for mariage ; / and she a ring of golde 
Receiued of Romeus ; / and then they both arose. 
To whom the frier then said, perchaunce / a part you will disclose 
Betwixt your selfe alone / the bottome of your hart : 

77^ Say on at once, for time it is / that hence you should depart. 
Then Romeus said to her, / (both loth to part so soone :) 
Fayre lady send to me agayne / your nurce this after uoone. 
Of corde I will bespeake, / a ladder by that time : 

77^ ^y which, this night, while other sleepe, / I will your window clime. 
Then will we talke of loue, / and of our olde dispayres : 
And then with longer laysure had, / dispose our great affaires. 
These said, they kisse, and then / part to theyr fathers house : 

780 The ioyfull bryde vnto her home, / to his eke goth the spouse. 
Contented both, and yet / both vncoutented still : 
Till night and Venus child, geue leaue / the wedding to fulfill. 
The painfull souldiour sore / ybet with wery warre : 

784 The merchant eke that nedefull things /doth dred to fetch from farre : 
The plowman that for doute / of feerce inuading foes. 
Rather to sit in ydle ease / then sowe his tilt hath chose : 
Reioyce to heare proclaymd / the tydinges of the peace : 

788 Not pleasurd with the sound so much ; / but, when the warres do cease. 
Then ceased are the harmes / which cruell warre bringes foorth. 
The merchant then may boldly fetch / his wares of precious woorth. 
Dredelesse the husband man / doth till his fertile feeld : 

792 For welth her mate, not for her selfe, / is peace so precidus held. 
So louers Hue in care, / in dread, and in vnrest : [Fo. 23) 

And dedly warre by striuing thoughts / they kepe within their brest. 
Bat wedlocke is the peace / wherby is freedome wonne, 

796 To do a thousand pleasant thinges / that should not els be donne. 
The newes of ended warre / these two haue hard with ioy : 
But now they long the fruite of peace / with pleasure to enioy. 
In stormy wind and waue, / in daunger to be lost : 



of Romeus and luliet. 29 

800 Thy stearics ship (O Romeus) / hath been Jong while betost. 
The seas are now appeasd, / and thou by happy starre 
Art corame in sight of quiet hauen : / and, now the wrackfull barre 
Is hid with swelling tyde, / boldly thou mayst resort 

804 Vnto thy wedded ladies bed, / tliy Jong desyred port. 

God graunt, no follies mist / so dymme thy inward sight. 
That thou do misse the chanell, that / doth leade to thy delight. 
God graunt no daungers rocke / ylurking in the darke, 

808 Before thou win the happy port / wracke thy sea beaten barke. 
A seruant Romeus had, / of woord and deede so iust : 
That with his life (if nede requierd) / his master would him trust. 
His faithfulnes had oft / our Romeus proued of olde 

812 And therfore all that yet was done / vnto his man he tolde. 

Who straight as he was charged, / a corden ladder lookes : 



To which he hath made fast two strong / and crooked yron hookes. 
The bryde to send the nurce / at twylight fayleth not : 

816 To whom the bridegroome yeuen hath, / the ladder that he got. 
And then to watch for him / appointeth her an howre : 
For whether Fortune smyle on him, / or if she list to lowre. 
He will not misse to comme / to his ap|X)ynted place, 

820 Where wont he was to take by stelth / the view of luliets face. 
How long these louers thought / the lasting of the day. 
Let other iudge that woonted are / lyke passions to assay. 
For my part, I do gesse / eche howre seemes twenty yere : 

824 So that I deeme if they might haue / (as of Alcume we heare) 
The sunne bond to theyr will, / if they the heauens might gyde : 
Black shade of night an^ doubled darke / should straight all ouer hyde. 
Thappointed howre is comme, / he, clad in riche araye, 

828 Walkes toward his desyred home, / good Fortune gyde his way. 

Approching nere the place / from whence his hart had life : [Fo. 24] 
So light he wox, he lept the wall, / and there he spyde his wife. -^ 
Who in the windowe watcht / the cumming of her lorde ; 

832 Where she so surely had made fast / the ladder made of corde : 
That daungerles her spouse / the chaumber window climes. 
Where he ere then had wisht himselfe / aboue ten thousand times. 
The windowes close are shut, / els looke they for no gest, 

836 To light the waxen quariers, / the auncient nurce is prest. 



30 The Tragicall history. 

Which luliet had before / prepared to be light. 

That she at pleasure might beholde / her husbandes bewty bright 

A Carchef white as snowe, / ware luliet on her hed, 

840 Such as she wonted was to weare, / attyre meete for the bed. 
As soone as she him spyde, / about his necke she clong : 
And by her long and slender armes / a great while there she hong. 
A thousand times she kist, / and him vnkist agayne : 

644 Ne could she speake a woord to him / though would she nere so fayne. 
And like betwixt his armes / to faynt his lady is : 
She fettes a sigh, and clappeth close / her closed mouth to his. 
And ready then to sownde / she looked ruthfiilly : 

848 That loe, it made him both at once / to liue and eke to dye. 
These piteous painfull panges / were haply ouerpast : 
And she vnto her selfe agayne / retomed home at last. 
Then, through her troubled brest, / euen from the farthest part, 

8<i An hollow sigh, a messenger / she sendeth from her hart. 
O Romea% quoth she, / in whome all vertues shyne : 
Welcome thou art into this place / where from these eyes of myne. 
Such tcary streames dyd flowe, / that I suppose welny 

8^6 The source of all my bitter teares / is altogether drye. 

Absence so pynde my heart, / which on thy presence fed : 
And of thy safetie and thy health / so much I stood in dred. 
But now what is decreed / by fatall desteny : 

860 I force it not let Fortune do / and death their woorst to me. 
Full recompensd am I / for all my passed harmes. 
In that the Gods haue graunted me / to claspe thee in myne armes. 
The christall teares began / to stand in Romeus eyes, 

864 When he vnto his ladies woordes / gan aunswere in this wise. 

Though cruell Fortune be / so much my dedly foe : [Fo. 25] 

That I ne can by liuely proofe / cause thee (fsLyre dame) to knowe 
How much I am by loue / enthralled vnto thee : 

868 Ne yet what mighty powre thou hast / by thy desert, on me. 
Ne tormentes that for thee / I did ere this endure : 
Yet of thus much (ne will I fayne) / I may tliee well assure. 
The least of many paynes / which of thy absence sprong : 

872 More paynefully then death it selfe / my tender hart hath wroong. 
Ere this one death had reft / a thousand deathes away : 



of Romeus and Juliet. 



3» 



But lyfe prolonged was by hope, / of this desired day. 

Which so iust tribute payes / of all my passed mone : 
876 That I as well contented am / as if my selfe alone 

Did from the Occean reigne / vnto the sea of Inde : 

Wherfore now let vs wipe away / old cares out of our mynde. 

For as the wretched state / is now redrest at last, 
880 So is it skill behinde our backe / the cursed care to cast. 

Since Fortune of her grace / hath place and time assinde 

Where we with pleasure may content / our vncontented minde. 

In Lethes hyde we deepe / all greefe and all annoy, 
884 Whilst we do bath in blisse, and fill / our hungry harts with ioye. 

And, for the time to com me, / let be our busy care : 

So wisely to direct our loue / as no wight els be ware. 

Lest enuious foes by force / despoyle our new delight, 
888 And vs throwe backe from happy state / to more vnhappy plight. 

Fayre luliet began / to aunswere what he sayde : 

But foorth in hast the olde nurce stept, / and so her aunswere stayde. 

Who takes not time (quoth she) / when time well offred is, 
892 An other time shall seeke for time, / and yet of time shall misse. 

And when occasion serues, / who so doth let it slippe. 

Is woorthy sure (if I might iudge) / of lashes with a whippe. 

Wherfore, if eche of you / hath harmde the other so, 
896 And eche of you hath been the cause / of others way led woe, 

Loe here a fielde, (she shewd / a fieeldbed ready dight) 

Where you may, if you list, in armes, / reuenge your selfe by fight. 

Wherto these louers both / gan easely assent, 
Qoo And to the place of mylde reuenge / with pleasant cheere they went. 

Where they were left alone, / the nurce is gone to rest : IFc •6] 

How can this be ? they restles lye, / ne yet they feele vnrest. 

I graunt that I enuie / the blisse they lined in : 
904 Oh that I might haue found the like, / I wish it for no sin. 

But that I might as well / with pen their ioyes depaynt. 

As here tofore I haue displayd / their secret hidden playnt. 

Of shyuering care and dred, / I haue felt many a fit, 
908 But Fortune such delight as theyrs / dyd neuer graunt me yet. 

By proofe no certain truth / can I vnhappy write : 

But what I gesse by likelihod, / that dare I to endite. 



of Romeus and luliet. 



33 



And ioyfuU luliet / an other leafe must toorne : 

948 As wont she was (her ioyes bereft) / she must begin to raoorne. 
The summer of their blisse, / doth Jast a month or twayne : 
But winters blast with spedy foote / doth bring the fall agayne. 
Whom glorious fortune erst / had heaued to the skies : 

95a By enuious fortune ouerthrowne / on earth now groueling lyes. 
She payd theyr former greefe / with pleasures doubled gayne. 
But now for pleasures vsery / ten folde redoubleth payne. 
The prince could neuer cause / those housholds so agree, 

956 But that some sparcles of their wrath, / as yet remaining bee. 
Which lye this while raakd vp, / in ashes pale and ded. 
Till tyme do seme that they agayne / in wasting flame may spred. 
At holiest times, men say / most heynous crimes are donne, 

960 The morowe after Easter day / the mischiefe new begonne. 
A band of Capilets /did meete (my hart it rewes) 
Within the walles, by Pursers gate, / a band of Montagewes. 
The Capilets as cheefe, / a yong man haue chose out : 

964 B^st exercisd in feates of armes, / and noblest of the rowte. 
Our Juliets vnkles sonne / that cliped was Tibalt : 
He was of body tall and *5trong, / and of his courage halt 
They neede no trumpet sounde / to byd them geue the charge, 

968 So lowde he cryde with strayned voyce / and mouth out stretched 
large : 
Now, now Cquod he) my frends, / our selfe so let vs wreake. 
That of this dayes reuenge and vs / our childrens heyres may speake. 
Now once for all let vs / their swelling pride asswage, 

972 Let none of them escape aliue. / Then he with furious rage 

And they with him gaue charge, / vpon theyr present foes, {Fo, aS] 
And then forthwith a skyrmislie great / vpon this fray arose. 
For, loe, the Montagewes / thought shame away to flye, 

976 And rather then to liue with shame, / with prayse did choose to dye. 
The woordes that Tybalt vsd / to sty re his folke to yre, 
Haue in the brestes of Montagewes / kindled a furious fyre. 
With Lyons hartes they fight, / warely themselfe defende : 

980 To wound his foe, his present wit / and force eche one doth beod. 
This furious fray is long, / on eche side stoutly fought, 

BOMEUS. 3 



34 The Tragical I history. 

m 

That whether part had got the woorst, / full doutfiill were the 
thought. 

The noyse hereof anon, / throughout the towne doth flye : 
984 And partes are taken on euery side. / both kinreds thether hye. 

Here one doth gaspe for breth, / his frend bestrideth him. 

And he hath lost a hand, and he / another maymed lim. 

His leg is cutte whilst he / strikes at an other full : 
p88 And wh5 he would haue thrust quite through / hath cleft his 
cracked skull. 

Theyr valiant harts forbode / theyr foote to geue the grounde. 

With vnappauled cheere they tooke / full deepe and doutfuU wounde. 

Thus foote by foote long while, / and shield to shield set fast : 
992 One foe doth make another faynt / but makes him not agast. 
^^^And[ whilst this noyse is ryfe / in euery townes maas eare. 

Eke walking with his frendes, the noyse / doth wofuU Romeus heore. 

With spedy foote he ronnes / vnto the fray apace : 
95>6 With him those fewe that were with him / he leadeth to the place. 

They pittie much to see / the. slaughter made so greate : 

That wetshod they might stand in blood / on eyther side the streate. 

Part frendes (sayd he) part freudes, / helpe, frendes to part the fray : 
1000 And to the rest, enough (he cryes) / now time it is to staye. 

Gods farther wrath you styrre, / beside the hurt you feele : 

And with this new vprore confounde / all this our common wele. 

But they so busy are / in fight, so egar and fee 
1004 That through theyr eares his sage aduise / no leysure had to pearce. 

Then lept h& in the throng, / to part and barre the blowes 

As yj eW nf those that were his firendes : / ^^j^Lhis-dedly foes. 

As soone as Tybalt had / our Romeus espyde : 
1008 He threw a thrust at him that would / haue past from side to side. 

But Romeus euer went / (douting his foes) well armde : [Fo. 29) 

So that the swerd (kept out by mayle) / hath nothing Romeus harmde. 

Thou doest me wrong (quoth he) / for I but part the firaye, 
10 1 2 Not dread, but other waighty cause / my hasty hand doth stay. 

Thou art the cheefe of thine, / the noblest eke thou art : 

Wherfore leaue of thy malice now, / and helpe these folke to parte. 

Many are hurt, some slayne, / and some are like to dye. 
1 016 No, coward, tray tor boy (q' he) / straight way I mynd to trye 



of Romeus and luUtt, 35 

Whether thy sugred talke, / and tong so smothely fylde : 

Against the force of this my swerd / shall seme thee for a shylde. 

And then at Romeus hed, / a blow he strake so hard, 
1020 That might haue clone him to the brayne / but for his cunning ward. 

It was but lent to him / that could repay agayne : 

And geue him death for interest, / a well forborne gayne : 

Right as a forest bore, / that lodged in the thicke, 
1024 Pinched with dog, or els with speare / ypricked to the quicke : 

His bristles stiffe vpright / vpon his backe doth set. 

And in his fomy mouth, his sharp / and crooked tuskes doth whet. 

Or as a Lyon wylde, / that rampeth in his rage, 
1028 His whelpes bereft, whose fury can / no weaker beast ass wage. 

Such seemed Romeus, / in euery others sight : 

When he him shope, of wrong receaude / tauenge himselfe by fight. 

Euen as two thuuderboltes, / throw ne downe out of the skyc, 
1032 That through the ayre the massy earth /and seas, haue power to flye : 

So met these two, and while / tliey chaunge a blowe or twayne, 

Qur-Roroeus thrust him through the throte. / and so is Tybalt slayne. 

Loe here the ende of those / that styrre a dedly stryfc : 
1036 Who thyrsteth after others death, / himselfe hath loit his life. 

The Capilets are quaylde, / by Tybalts ouert'irowe : 

The courage of the Mountagewes, / by Ro:neus sight doth growe. 

The townes men waxen strong, / the prince doth send his force 3 
1040 The fray hath end, tlie Capilets / do bring the brethles corce. 

Before the prince : and craue / that cruell dedly payne 

May be the guerdon of his fait, / that hath their kinsman slaine. 

The Montagewes do pleade, / theyr Romeus voyde of fait : 
1044 The lookers on do say, the fight / begonue was by Tybalt. 

The prince doth-pawse, and then / geues sentence in a while, IFo. 30] 

That Bomeuft, for sleytng him / should goe into exyle. 

His foes would haue him hangde, / or sterue in prison strong : 
1048 His frendes do think (but dare not say) / that Romeus hath wrong. 

Both housholds straight are charged / on payne of losing lyfe : 

Theyr bloudy weapons layd aside / to cease the styrred stryfe. 

This common plage is spred, / through all the towne anon : 
ioj2 From side to syde the towne is fild / with murmour and with mone. 

For Tvbalts hasty death, / be way led was of somme. 



jfi The Tragicall history. 

Both for his skill in feates of armes, / and for, in time to comme : 
He should (had this not chaunced) / been riche, and of great powre : 

1056 To helpe his frendes, and serue the state, / which hope within an howre 
Was wasted quite, and he / thus yelding vp his breath. 
More then he holpe the towne in lyfe, / hath harmde it by his death. 
And other somme bewayle, / (but ladies most of all) 

1060 The lookeles lot by Fortunes g}'lt, / that is so late befall, 
(Without his fait) vnto / the seely Romeus, 
For whilst that he from natife land / shall Hue exyled thus. 
From heauenly bewties light, / and his wekhaped parts : 

J 064 The sight of which, was wont (faire dames) / to glad your youthful! 
harts. 
Shall you be banishd quite : / and tyll he do retoome 
What hope haue you to ioy ? / what hope to cease to moome ? 
This Romeus was borne / so much in heauens grace, 

1068 Of Fortune and of nature so / beloued, that in his face 
(Beside the heauenly bew/ty glistring ay so bright : 
And seemely grace that wonted so / to glad the seers sight) 
A certain charme was graued / by natures secret arte : 

J 072 That vertue had to draw to it, / the lone of many a hart. 
So euery one doth wish, / to beare a part of payne : 
That he released of exyle, / might straight retome agayne. 
But how doth moome emong / the raoomers luliet ? 

1076 How doth she bathe her brest in teares ? / what deoe sighes doth 
she fet ? 
How doth she tear her heare ? / her weede how doth she rent ? 
How fares the louer hearing of/ her loners banishment ? 
How wayles she Tibalts death, / whom she had loued so well ? 

1080 Her hearty greefe and piteous plaint, / cunning I want to tell 

For deluing depely now / in depth of depe dispayre : [Fo. 31] 

With wretched sorowes cruell sound / she fils the empty ayre. 
And to the lowest hell, / downe falles her heauy crye, 

1084 -^^^ ^P v°^° ^^® heauens haight / her piteous plaint doth flye. 
The waters and the woods / of sighes and sobs resounde : 
And from the hard resounding rockes / her sorowes do rebounde. 
Eke from her teary eyne, / downe rayned many a showre : 

1 088 That in the garden where she walkd / might water herbe and flow re. 



of Romeus and luliet. 



37 



But when at length she saw / her selfe outraged so : 

Vnto hei chaumber straight she hide / there, ouerchargd with wo, 

Vpon her stately bed, / her painfull parts she threw : 

1 092 And in so wondrous wise began / her sorowes to renewe : 
That sure no hart so hard, / (but it of flint had byn :) 
But would haue rude the pitious plaint / that she did languishe in. 
Then rapt out of her selfe, / whilst she on euery side 

1096 Did cast her restles eye, at length / the windowe she espide. 

Through which she had with ioy / scene Romeus many a time : 
Which oft the ventrous knight was wont / for Juliets sake to clyme. 
She cryde, O cursed windowe, / a curst be euery pane, 

1 100 Through which (alas) to sone I raught / the cause of life and bane. 
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 ? 

1 104 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 : 

1 108 At length must open wide to death, / the gates of lothed lyfe. 
That so my wery sprite, / may somme where els vnlode 
His deadly lode, and free from thrall / may seeke els where abode : 
Eor pleasant quiet ease / and for assured rest, 

1112 Which I as yet could neuer tinde, / but for my more vnrest. 

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, 

1 1 16 And I them iudgde empty of gyle, / and fraughted full of troth : 

1 thought you rather would / continue our good will, [Fo. 3a] 
And seeke tappease our fathers strife / which daily groweth still. 

I little wend you would / haue sought occasion how 
1 120 By such an heynous act to breake / the peace and eke your vowe 

Whcrby your bright renoune, / all whole yclipsed is. 

And I vnhappy, husbandles, / of cum fort robde, and blisse. 

But if you did so much / the blood of Capels thyrst, 
1 1 24 Why haue you often spared mine? / myne might haue quencht it 
first. 



J 



38 The Tragicall history. 

Since that so many times, / and in so secret place 

(Where yon were wont with vele of loue / to hyde your hatreds face). 

My doutftill lyte hath hapt / by fatall dome to stand, 
1 128 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, 
1 132 Which for his woorth and loue to me / most in my fauour stood? 

Well, goe hencefoorth els where, / and seeke another whyle. 

Some other as vnhappy as I, / by flattry to begyle. 

And, where I com me, see that / you shonne to shew your face : 
1 136 For your excuse within my hart / shall linde 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 soone my ioyceles corps, / shall yeld vp banishd breath, 
1 140 And where on earth it restles lined, / in earth seeke rest by death. 
These sayde, her tender hart, / by payne oppressed sore : 

Restraynd her teares, and forced her tong / to keepe her talke in store. 

And then as still she was, / as if in sownd she lay : 
1 144 And then agayne, wroth with her selfe, / 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 : 
1 148 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 Tybalt beares the fait ? 

Whether shall he (alas) / poore banishd man, now flye ? 
1 152 What place of succor shall he seeke / beneth the starry skye ? 

Synce she pursueth him, / and him defames by wrong : [Fo. 33) 

That in distres should be his fort, / and onely rampier strong. 

Receiue tlie recom pence, / O Romeus, of thy wife : 
1 1 j6 Who for she was vnkind her selfe, / doth otfer vp her lyfe. 

In flames of yre, in sighes, / in sorow and in ruth : 

So to reuenge the crime she did / commit against thy truth. 

These said, she could no more, / her senses all gan fayle : 
1160 And dedly panges began straight way / her tender hart assayle. 



of Romeus and luliet, 39 

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, 
1 164 Did doute lest that some sodain greefe / too much tormented her. 

Eche where but where she was / the careful! Beldam sought. 

Last, of the chamber where she lay, / she haply her bethought. 

Where she with piteous eye, / her nurce childe did beholde : 
1 168 Her limraes 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 cryed to luliet. 

Ah my dere hart (quoth she) / how greeueth me thy death ? 
1 172 Alas what cause hast thou thus soone / to yelde vp 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 \'pon her name, 
1 1 76 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 toes. 

And on her bosome colde, / she layeth clothes hot, 
1 1 80 A warmed and a holesome iuyce / she powreth downe her throte. 

At length doth luliet / heaue fayntly vp her eyes. 

And then she stretcheth forth her arme, / and then her nurce she 
spyes. 

But when she was awakde / from her vnkindly traunce : 
1 184 Why dost thou trouble me (quoth she) /what draue thee (with 
mischaunce) 

To come to see my sprite, / forsake my brethles corce ? 

Goe hence, and let me dye, if thou / haue on my smart remorse. 

For who would see her frend / to line in dedly payne ? 
I J 88 Alas, I see my greefe begoone, / for euer will remayne. 

Or who would seeke to liue, / all pleasure being past ? [Fo. 34) 

My myrth is donne, my moorning mone / for ay is like to last. 

Wherfore since that there is / none other remedy, 
1 192 Comme gentle death, and ryue my hart, / at once, and let me dye. 

The nurce with tricling teares, / to witnes inward smart. 
With holow sigh fetchd from the depth, / of her appauled hart. 

Thus spake to luliet, / yclad with ougly care. 



43 The Tragicall hiii'S/nf. 

tif/^ GrjrA l^dj tnrac, I do oat koo-ar . vhat makei joa dicu to tsrt. 
Xe ret the cai^e ot toot irnniea»arde heaoj 



Bat of this oat I joa aisare, for care and forovo strese, 
Tb£f hawtr large and more, / I ibought ^so god me aaoe) 

1 200 Tbat mj dead c&rp» should wa^rte 00 yocm, . to joor TDiimcIj grane. 
AIm mj tender nurce, / and rni>tT frend (qurjth %he) 
Art thoo io biinde, that with thine e>'e, thoa canst not easelr see 
The lawful! cauae I hane, / to §orow and to moome, 

J 204 SiiK:e thoie the which I hyld most deere I hane at once furlome r 
Her narce then aunswerd thus. ' Me thinkes it sits vou tII, 
To fall in these extremities / that may von grltles spilL 
For when the storroes of care, / and troubles do arj'^, 

1208 Then is the time for men to know, . the foolish from the wise. 
You are accotmted wise, / a foole am I your nurce : 
But I see not how in like case / I could be hane me wurse. 
Tibalt your frend is ded, / what, weene you by your teares, 

J2I2 To call him backe againe? thinke you / that he your ciy-ing heares? 
You shall perceue the fait, / (if it be iustly tryde) 
Of his so sodayn death, was in / his rashnes and his pryde. 
Would you that Romeus, / bim selfe had wronged so, 

1216 To suffer himselfe causeles to be / outraged of his foe ? 
To whom in no respect, / he ought a place to geue ? 
Let it sufiise to thee fay re dame, / tbat Romeus doth line. 
And that there is good hope / that he within a while, 

1220 With greater glory shalbe calde / home from his hard exile. 
How wel ybome be w, / thy selfe I know canst tell : 
By kindred strong, and well alyed, / of all beloued welL 
With patience arme thy selfe, / for though that Fortunes cryme 

1224 Without your fait, to both your greefes / depart you for a time. 

I dare say, for amendes / of all your present payne i^^- 35I 

She will restore your owne to you, / within a month or twayne. 
With such contented ease, / as neuer erst you had ; 

1228 Wherfore reioyce a while in hope, / and be ne more so sad. 
And that I may discharge / your hart of heauy care : 
A ccrtaine way I haue found out, / my paynes ne will I spare. 
To learne his present state, / and what in time to comme 



of Romeus and luUet, 



41 



1232 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 cell. 
But if you gyn eftsones / (as erst you did) to moome 

1 236 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 life once lost) / good aunswere commes in vayne. 
So shall I ridde my selfe / with this sharpe pointed knife : 

1240 So shall you cause your parents deere / wax wery of they r life. 
So shall your Romeus, / (despysing liuely breath,) 
With hasty foote (before his tyrae) / ronne to vntimely death. 
Where if you can a while, / by reason, rage suppresse, 

1244 I hope at my retome 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 retome agayne. 
Her mistres sendes her forth, / and makes a graue behest, 

1248 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, 

1252 Now blacke and ougly be her thoughts : / now seeme they white and 
fayre. 
As oft in summer tide, / blacke cloudes do dimme the sonne. 
And straight againe in clearest skye / his restles steedes do ronne. 
So luliets wandring mynd / yclowded is with woe, 

1256 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 liauen did hold / her louer, Romeus. 
When he had slayne his foe, / that gan this dedly strife, 

1260 And saw the furious fray had ende, / by ending Tybalts life : 

He fled the sharpe reuenge / of those that yet did Hue, iFo. 36] 

And douting much what penall doorae/ the troubled prince myght gy ue. 
He sought some where vnseene, / to lurke a little space, 

1264 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 hb frend to hyde. 



42 The Tragicall history, 

A secret place he hath, / well seeled round about, 

1268 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 warrae, 

1272 That neither wind, nor smoky damps / have powre him ought to 
harme. 
Where he was wont in youth, / his fayre frendes to bestowe. 
There now he hydeth Romeus / whilst forth he goeth to knowe 
Both what is sayd and donne, / and what appoynted payne, 

1276 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 : 

1280 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 time to comme, / might thorowly deuyse. 
Those ioyfull newes, the nurce / brought home with mery ioy : 

1284 And now our luliet ioyes to thinke, / she shall her loue enioye. 
The fryer shuts fast his doore, / and then to him beneth. 
That waytes to heare the doutefiill newes / of lyfe or els of death : 
Thy hap quoth he, is good, / daunger of death is none : 

1288 But thou shalt liue, and doe frill well, / in spite of spitefuU fone. 
This onely payne for thee / was erst proclaymde aloude, 
A banishd man, thou mayst thee not / within Verona shroude. 
These heauy tydinges heard, / his golden lockes he tare : 

1292 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 strikes / his bead against the wals, 

1296 He falleth downe againe, and lowde / for hasty death he cals. 

Come spedy death (quoth he) / the readiest leache in loue, [Fo. 37] 
Since nought can eb beneth the sunne / the ground of griefe remoue. 
Of lothsome life breake downe / the hated staggering stayes, 

1300 Destroy, destroy at once the lyfe / that faintly yet decayes. 
But you (fayre dame) in whome / dame nature dyd deuise,: 
With cunning hand towoorke,that might /seeme wondrous in our eyes: 



of Romeus and luliet. 43 

For yoU I pray the Gods, / your pleasures to increase^ 

1304 And all mishap, with this my death, / for euermore to cease. 
And mighty loue with speede, / of iustice bring them lowe. 
Whose lofty ptyde (without our gylt) / our blisse doth ouerblowe. 
And Cupide graunt to those / theyr spedy wrongs redresse, 

1308 That shall bewayle my cruell death, / and pity her distresse. 
Therewith, a cloude of sighes, / he breathd into the skies : 
And two great streames of bitter teares, / ran from his swollen eyes. 
These thinges, the auncient fryre, / with sorow saw, and heard, 

13 1 2 Of such begynning eke, the ende, / the wise man greatly teard. 
But loe, he was so weake, / by reason of his age, 
That he ne could by force, represse / the rigour of his rage. 
His wise and frondly woordes, / he speaketh to the ayre : 

13 16 For Romeus so vexed is, / with care, and with dispayre. 
That no aduise can perce, / his close forstopped eares : 
So now the fryer doth take his part, / in shedding ruthfiill teares. 
With colour pale, and wan, / with armes full hard yfold, 

1320 With wofull cheere, his wayling frend, / he standeth to beholde. 
And then, our Romeus, / with tender handes ywrong : 
With voyce, with plaint made horce, w* sobs, / and with a foltring tong, 
Renewd with nouel mone / the dolours of his hart, 

1324 His outward dreery cheere bewrayde, /his store of inward smart, 
Fyrst nature did he blame, / the author of his lyfe. 
In which his ioyes had been so scant, / and sorowes aye so ryfe : 
The time and place of byrth, / he fiersly did reproue, 

1328 He cryed out (with open mouth) / against the starres aboue : 
The fatal I sisters three. / he said, had done him wrone. 
The threed that should not haue been sponne / they had drawne 

foorth too long. 
He wished that he [ne] had / before this time been borne, 

133 i Or that as soone as he wan light, / his life he had forlorne. 

His nurce he cursed, and / the hand that gaue him pappe, [F0. 38] 

The midwife eke with tender grype / that held him in her lappe : 
And then did he complaine, / on Venus cruel sonne 

1336 Who led him first vnto the rockes, / which he should warely shonne. 
By meane wherof he lost, / both lyfe and libertie. 
And dyed a huYidred times a day, / and yet could neuer dye. 



44 7^ Tragkull kistorj. 

Looei troobia hmen long, , the ioret be geoa 2re short : 
1340 He forceth dkX a kmen parne, / tberr emest is bs sp:;rt. 

A tbrxHaod tbin^ and more, / I here let poue to vrire, 

Wbicb TDto \fMt this froiall man, / djd qieake in grea: desp«&e. 

On Fortone eke be ra jlde, / be calde her deafe, and bSrode, 
1344 Vnconstant, fond, deceit^ill, ra&be, / mrnthfaD, and rakjT^i. 

And to him self be layd / a great part of the ^t : 

For that he sieve, and was not slarne, / in fighting w:tb Hbolt. 

He Uamed all the world, , and all be did defje, 
1348 But loliet, for whom he lined ; for whom eke would be dye. 

When after raging fits, ' appeased was bis rage. 

And when his pa<ttians (powred forth) / gao partlj to asswage. 

So wisely did the fiyre / vnto his tale replye, 
J3j2 That be straight cared for his life, / that erst had care to dre. 

Art thoa quoth he a man ? / thy shape saith, so thoa art : 

ITiy crying and thy weping eyes, / denote a womans hart. 

For manly reason is / quite from of thy mynd outcbased, 
1356 And in her stead affections lei»'d, / and £uisies highly placed. 

So that I stoode in doute / this howre (at the least) 

If thou a man, or woman wert, / or els a brutish beast. 

A wise man in the midst / o€ troubles and distres, 
1360 Still standes not way ling present harme, / but seeks his harmes redres. 

As when the winter flawes, / with dredfull noyse arise. 

And beaue the fomy swelling waues / vp to the starry skies. 

So that the broosed barke / in cruell seas betost, 
1364 Dispayreth of the happy hauen / in daunger to be lost. 

The pylate bold at helme, / cryes, mates strike now your sayle : 

And tomes her stemme into the waues, / that strongly her assayle. 

Then driuen hard vpon / the bare and wrackfull shore, 
1368 In greater daunger to be wract, / then he had beeu before. 

He seeth his ship full right / against the rocke to roime, [/>■ 39] 

fiut yet he dootb what lyeth in him / the perilous rocke to shonne. 

Sometimes the beaten boate, / by cunning gouemment, 
1372 The ancors lost, the cables broke, / and all the tackle spent. 

The roder smitten of, / and ouer boord the mast. 

Doth win the long desyred porte, / the stormy daunger past. 

But if the master dread, / and ouerprest with woe. 



of Romeus and Iiiliet, 45 

137^ Begin to wring his handes^ and lets / the gydiiig rodder goe 
The ship rents on the rocke, / or sinketh in the deepe. 
And eke the coward drenched is, / So : if thou still be weepe 
And seke not how to helpe / the chaunges that do chaunce, 

1.380 Thy cause of sorow shall increase, / thou caase of thy mischaunce. 
Other account thee wise, / prooue not thy selte a foole. 
Now put in practise lessons learnd, / of old in wisdoraes schoole. 
The wise man saith, beware / thou double not thy payne : 

1 384 For one perhaps thou mayst abyde, / but hardly suffer twayne. 
As well we ought to seeke / thinges hurtfuU to decrease. 
As to endeuor. helping thinges / by study to increase. 
The prayse of trew fredom, / in wisdoraes bondage lyes 

1388 He winneth blame whose deedes be fonde, / although his woords be 
wise. 
Sickenes the bodies gayle, / greefe, gayle is of the mynd. 
If thou canst scape from heauy greefe, / true fredorae shalt tliou finde. 
Fortune can fill nothing, / so full of hearty greefe, 

1392 But in the same a constant mynd, / Finds solace and releefe. 
Vertue is alwayes thrall, / to troubles and annoye. 
But wisdome in aduersitie, / findes cause of quiet ioye. 
And they most wretched are, / that know no wretchednes : 

1396 And afrer great extremity, / mishaps ay waxen lesse. 
Like as there is no weale, / but wastes away somtime, 
So euery kind of wayled woe, / will weare away in time. 
If thou wilt master quite, / the troubles that the spill, 

1400 Endeuor first by reasons help, / to master witles will. 
A sondry medson hath, / eche sondry faynt disease. 
But pacience, a common salue, / to euery wound geues ease. 
The world is alway full / of chaunces and of chaunge, 

1404 Wherfore the chaunge of chaunce must not / seeme to a wise man 
straunge. 
For tickel Fortune doth, / in chaunging, but her kind, if^k 40] 

But all her chaunges cannot chaunge / a steady constant minde. 
Though wauering Fortune toorne / from thee her smyling face, 

J408 Ajid sorow seeke to set him selfe / in banishd pleasures place. 
Yet may thy marred state / be mended in a while, 
And she eftsones that frowneth now, / with pleasant cheere shall smyle. 



4^ The Tragicall history. 

For as her happy state / no long whyle standeth sure, 
141 2 Euen so the heauy plight she brings, / not alwayes doth endure. 

What nede so many woordes / to thee that art so wyse ? 

Thou better canst aduise thy selfe, / then I can thee aduyse. 

Wisdome, I see, is vayne, / if thus in time of neede 
141 6 A wise mans wit vnpractised / doth stand him in no steede. 

I know thou hast some cause / of sorow and of care 

But well I wot thou hast no cause / thus frantikly to fare. 

Affections ioggy mist / thy febled sight doth blynde ; 
1420 But if that reasons beames agayne / might shine into thy mynde. 

If thou wouldst view thy state / with an indifferent eye, 

I thinke thou wouldst condemne thy plaint, / thy sighing, and thy crye. 

With valiant hand thou madest / thy foe yeld vp his breth, 
1424 Thou hast escapd his swerd and eke / the lawes that threatten death. 

By thy escape thy frendes / are fraughted full of ioy. 

And by his death thy deadly foes / are laden with annoy. 

Wilt thou with trusty frendes / of pleasure take some part ? 
1428 Or eb to please thy hatefuU foes / be partner of theyr smart ? 
. Why cryest then out on kme } / why does^ iknm bkune thy iate4- 

Whyjdost thou so crye after death I / thy-ltfier why dost thou hate ? 

Dost thou repeat the choyce / that thou so lat^jlidst choose ? 
1432 Lpue is thy Lord; thou oughtst obay / aqd-P ot thy pr i nc e^ccuse. 

For thou hast found (thou knowst) / great fauour in his sight. 

He graunted thee, at thy request, / thy onely hartes delight. 

So that the Gods enuyde / the blisse thou liuedst in ; 
1436 To geue to such vnthankefull men / is folly and a sin. 

Me thinkes I heare thee say, / the cruel 1 banishment 

Is onely cause of thy vnrest j / onely thou dost lament 

That from thy natife land / and frendes thou must depart, 
1440 Enforsd to flye from her that hath / the keping of thy hart : [Fa. 41) 

And so opprest with waight / of smart that thou dost feele. 

Thou dost complaine of Cupides brand, / and Fortunes turning wheele. 

Vnto a valiant hart / there is no banishment, 
1444 All countrejrs are his natiue soyle / beneath the firmament. 

As to the fishe the sea, / as to the fowle the ayre. 

So is like pleasant to the wise / eche place of his repayre. 

Though froward Fortune chase / thee hence into exyle. 



of Romeus and luliet. 47 

1448 With doubled honor shall she call / thee home within a whyle. 
Admyt thou shouldst abyde / abrode a yere or twayne. 
Should so short absence cause so long / and eke so greeuous payne ? 
Though thou ne mayst thy frendes / here in Verona see, 

1452 They are not banishd Mantua, / where safely thou mast be. 
Thether they may resort, / though thou resort not hetber. 
And there in suretie may you talke / of your aifayres together 
Yea, but this whyle (alas) / thy Tuliet must thou misse, 

1456 The onely piller of thy helth, / and ancor of thy blisse. 

Thy hart thou leanest with her, / when thou dost hence depart. 
And in thy brest inclosed bearst / her tender frendly hart. 
But if thou rew so much / to leaue the rest behiude, 

1460 With thought of passed ioyes content / thy vncontented mynde j 
So shall the mone decrease / wherwith thy mynd doth melt. 
Compared to the heauenly ioyes / which thou hast often felt. 
He is too nyse a weakeling / that shrinketh at a showre, 

1464 And he vnworthy of the sweete, / that tasteth not the sowre. 
Call now againe to mynde /thy first consuming flame ; 
How didst thou vainely bume in loue / of an vnlouing dame ? 
Hadst thou not welnigh wept / quite out thy swelling eyne ? 

1468 Did not thy parts, fordoon with payne, / languishe away and pyne ? 
Those greefes and others like / were happly ouerpast. 
And thou in h.iight of Fortunes wheele / well placed at the last : 
From whence thou art now falne, / that, raysed vp agayne, 

1472 With greater ioy a greater while / in pleasure mayst thou raygne. 
Compare the present while / with times ypast befqre. 
And thinke that Fortune hath for thee / great pleasure yet in store. 
The whilst, this little wrong / receiue thou paciently, 

147^ And what of force must nedes be done / that doe thou willingly. 

Foly it is to feare / that thou canst not auoyde, IFp. 4a] 

And madnes to desire it much / that can not be enioyde. 
To geue to Fortune place, / not ay deserueth blame, 

1480 But skill it is, according to / the times thy selfe to frame. 
Whilst to this skilfull lore / he lent his listning eares. 
His sighes are stopt, and stopped are / the conduits of his teares. 
As blackest cloudes are chaced / by winters nimble winde, 

1484 So haue his reasons chaced care / out of his carefUl mynde. 



4^ The Tragicall history. 

As of a morning fowle / ensues an euening fayre. 

So banisht hope returneth home / to banish his despayre. 

Now is affections veale / remoued from his eyes, 

1488 He seeth the path that he must walke, / and reson makes him wise. 
For very shame the blood / doth flashe in both his cheekes. 
He thankes the father for his lore, / and farther ayde he seekes. 
He sayth, that skil les youth / for counsell is vnfitte, 

149a And anger oft with hastines / are ioind to want of witte ; 
But sound aduise aboundes / in heddes with horishe heares. 
For wisdom is by practise wonne, / and perfect made by yeares. 
But aye from this time forth / his ready bending will 

1496 Shalbe in awe and gouerned / by fryer Lawrence skill. 
The goueraor is nowe / right carefull of his charge. 
To whom he doth wisely discoorse / of his affaires at large. 
He telles hira how he shall / depart the towne vnknowne, 

1 500 Both mindfull of his frendes safetie, / and carefull of his owne 
How he shall gyde him selfe, / how he shall seeke to winne 
The frendship of the better sort, / how warely to crepe in 
The fauour of the Mantuan prince, / and how he may 

1504 Appease the wrath of Escalus, / and wipe the fault away j 
The choller of his foes / by gentle meanes tasswage. 
Or els by force and practises / to bridle quite theyr rage : 
And last he chargeth him / at his appointed howre 

I jo8 To goe with manly mery cheere / vnto his ladies bowre, 

And there with holesorae woordes / to salue her sorowes smart. 
And to reuiue (if nede require) / her faint and dying hart. 
The old mans woords haue fild / with ioy our Romeus brest, 

15 1 2 And eke the olde wiues talke hath set / our luliets hart at rest. 

Whereto may I compare / (O loners) this your day ? [Fa. 43) 

Like dayes the painefuU mariners / are woonted to assay ; 
For, beat with tempest great, / when they at length es*pye 

I ji6 Some little beame of Phoebus light, / that perceth through the skie. 
To cleare the shadowde earth / by clearenes of his face. 
They hope tliat dreadles they shall ronne / the remnant of their race ; 
Yea they assure them selfe, / and quite behynd theyr backe 

1520 They cast all doute, and thanke the Gods / for scaping of the wracke ; 
But straight the boysterous windes /with greater fury blowe. 



of Romeiis and lulieL 49 

And over boord the broken m?jst / the stormy blastes doe throwe j 
The heauens large are clad / with cloudes as darke as hell, 

1 524 And twise as hye the striuing waues / begin to roare and swell ; ^ 
With greater daungers dred / the men are vexed more. 
In greater peri 11 of their lyfe / then they had been before. 
The golden sonne was gonne / to lodge him in the west, 

I J28 The fiill moone eke in yonder South / had sent most men to rest j 
When restles Romeus / and restles luliet 

In woonted sort, by woonted meane, / in luliets chaumber met. 
And from the windowes top / downe had he leaped scarce, 

1532 When she with armes outstretched wide / so hard did him embrace. 
That welnigh had the sprite / (not forced by dedly force) 
Flowne vnto death, before the time / abandoning the corce. 
Thus muet stoode they both / the eight part of an howre, 

IJ36 And both would speake, but neither had / of speaking any powrc; 
But on his brest her hed / doth ioylesse luliet lay. 
And on her slender necke his chyn / doth ruthfull Romeus stay. 
Their scalding sighes ascende, / and by their cheekes downe fell 

1 540 Their trickling teares, as christall cleare, / but bitterer farre then gall. 
Then he, to end the greefe / which both they lined in, 
Did kysse his loue, and wisely thus / hys tale he dyd begin : 
My luliet, my loue, / my onely hope and care, 

1544 To you I purpose not as now / with length of woords declare 
The diuersenes and eke / the accidents so straunge 
Of frayle vnconstant Fortune, that / delyteth still in cnaunge j 
Who in a moment heaues / her frendes vp to the height 

1548 Of her swift timiing slippery wheele, / then fleetes her frendship 
straight. 
O wondrous chaunge, euen with / the twinkling of an eye (/^<?.44l 
Whom erst her selfe had rashly set / in pleasant place so hye. 
The same in great despyte / downe hedlong doth she throwe, 

1552 And while she treades, and spumeth at / the lofty state laid lowe. 
More sorow doth she shape / within an bowers space. 
Then pleasure in an hundred yeres j / so ge)'son is her grace. 
The proofe wherof in me / (alas) too plaine apperes, 

1336 Whom tenderly my carefull frendes / haue fostered with my feers. 
In prosperous high degree, / mayntayned so by fate, 

BOMEUS. 4 



jo The Tragicall history. 

That (as your gelfe did see) my foes / enuyde my noble state. 
One thing there was I did / aboue the rest desire, 

1 j6o To which as to the soueraigae good / by hope I would aspyre. 
That by our manage mesne / we might within a while 
(To woorke our perfect happines) / our parentes reconsile : 
That safely so we might, / (no! siopt by sturdy strife) 

1J64 Vnto the boiindes that God hatii set, / gyde forth our pleasant lyfe. 
But now (alacke) loo soone / my Wisse is ouerblowoe. 
And vpside downe ray purpose and / my enterprise are throwne. 
And driuen from my freudes, / of straungers must I craue, 

1568 (O grauni it God) from daungers dread / that I may suertie haue. 
For loe, henceforth I must / wander in landes vnknowne, 
(So hard 1 finde the princes doome) / exyled from mine owne. 
Which thing I haue thought good, / to set before your eyes, 

157a And to exhort you now to proue / your selfe a woman wise. 
That patiently you beare / my absent long abod, 
For what aboue by fatall dooraea / decreed is, that God — 
And more then this to say, / it seemed, he was bent, 

I j?^ Bui Juliet in dedly greefe, / wiih brackish leares besprent. 
Brake of his tale begoiine, / and whilst his speche he stayde. 
These selfe same wordes, or like to these,/ with dreery chere she sayde : 
Why Romeus can it be, / ihou hast so hard a hart ? 

ij8o So farre remoued from ruth? so farre / from thinking on my smart? 
To leaue me thus alone / f lliou cause of my distresse) 
Beseged wiih so great a campe / of mortall wretehednesse. 
That euery bower now, / and moment in a day, 

IJ84 A thousand times death bragges, as he / would reaue my life away? 
Yet such is my mishap, / (O cruell destenye) {F<i.4%i 

That still I liue, and wish for death, / but yet can neuer dye : 
So that iust cause I haue / to thinke (as seemeth me) 
-rJ88 That fi-oward Fortune did of late / with cruell death agree 
To lengthen lothed life, / to pleasure in my payne. 
And tryninpb in ray harme, as in / the greatest hoped gayne. 
ft instrument / of Fortunes cruell will, 
C Byde she can ao way / her tyrans lust fulhll : 
bgnide / (as farre as I can see) 

a ha»t culd / the better part of me. 




of Romais and luliet. 



51 



Wherby (alas) to soone, / I, seely wretch, do prone, 

1 596 That all the auncient sacred lawes / of frendship and of loue 
Are quelde and quenched quite, / since he, on whom alway 
My cheefe hope and my steady trust / was wonted still to stay. 
For whom I am becomme / vnto my selfe a foe, 

1600 Disdayneth me, his stedfast frend, / and scornes my frendship so. 
Nay Romeus, nay, thou mayst / of two thinges choose the one, 
£ither to see thy castaway, / as soone as thou art gone, 
Hedlong to throw her selfe / downe from the windowes haight, 

1604 And so to breake her slender necke / with all the bodies waight. 
Or suffer her to be / companion of thy payne. 
Where so thou goe (Fortune thee gyde), / till thou retoome aga3me. 
So wholy into thine / transformed is my hart, 

1608 That euen as ofl as I do thinke / that thou and I shall part. 
So oft (me thinkes) my life / withdrawes it selfe awaye, 
Which I retayne to no end els / but to the end I may. 
In spite of all thy foes, / thy present partes enioye, 

i6ia And in distres to beare with thee / the halfe of thine annoye. 
Wherfore, in humble sort / (Romeus) I make request. 
If euer tender pity yet / were lodgde in gentle brest, 
O, let it now haue place / to rest within thy hart j 

j6t6 Receaue me as thy seruant, and / the fellow of thy smart : 
Thy absence is my death, / thy sight shal. geue me life. 
But if perhaps thou stand in dred / to leade me as a wyfe. 
Art thou all counsellesse ? / canst thou no shift deuise ? 

I $20 What letteth but in other weede / I may my selfe disguyse? ' 

What, shall I be the first ? / hath none done so ere this, [/«>. 46) 

To scape the bondage of theyr frendes ? / thy selfe can aunswer, yes. 
Or dost thou stand in doute / that I thy wife ne can 

1624 By seruice pleasure thee as much / as may thy hyred man ? 
Or is my loyalte / of both accompted lesse ? 
Perhaps thou fearst lest I for gayne / forsake thee in distresse. 
What, hath my bewty now / no powre at all on you, 

1628 Whose brightnes, force, and praise, somtirae / vp to the skyes you blew ? 
My teares, my frendship and / my pleasures donne of olde. 
Shall they be quite forgote in dede ? / — ^When Romeus dyd behold 
The wildnes of her looke, / her cooler pale and ded. 



y 



5^ 



The Tragicall history. 



1632 The woorst of all that might betyde / to her, he gan to dred ^ 
And once agayne he dyd / in armes his luliet take. 
And kist her with a louing kysse, / And thus to her he spake : 
Ah luliet, (quoth he) / the mistres of my hart, 

1636 For whom (euen now) thy seruant doth / abyde in dedly smart, 
Euen for the happy dayes / which thou desyrest to see. 
And for the feruent frendships sake / that thou dost owe to me. 
At once these fansies vayne / out of thy mynd roote out, 

1640 Except, perhaps, vnto thy blame, / thou fondly go about 
To hasten forth my death, / and to thine owne to ronne. 
Which Natures law and wisdoms lore / teache euery wight to shonne. 
For, but thou chaunge thy mynde, / (I do foretell the ende) 

1 644" Thou shalt vndoo thy selfe for ay, / and me thy trusty frende. 
For why, thy absence knowne, / thy father wilbe wroth. 
And in his rage no narowly / he will pursue vs both. 
That we shall trye in vayne / to scape away by flight, 

1648 And vainely seeke a loorking place / to hyde vs from his sight. 
Then we, found out and caught, / quite voyde of strong defence. 
Shall cruelly be punished / for thy departure hence ; 
I as a rauishor, / thou as a careles childe, 

1652 I as a man who doth defile, / thou as a mayde defilde^ 
Thinking to leade in ease / a long contented life. 
Shall short our dayes by shamefiill death : / but, if (ray louing wife) 
Thou banish from thy mynde / two foes that counsell hath, 

i6j6 (That wdnt to hinder sound aduise) / rashe hastines and wrath j 

If thou be bent tobay / the lore of reasons skill, [/v>. 47] 

And wisely by her princely powre / suppresse rebelling will, 
If thou our safetie seeke, / more then thine owne delight, 

1660 Since suerty standes in parting, and / thy pleasures growe of sight. 
For beare the cause of ioy, / and suffer for a while. 
So shall I safely liue abrode, / and safe torne from exile : 
So shall no slaunders blot /thy spotles life destayne, 

1664 So shall thy kinsmen be vnstyrd, / and I exempt from payne. 
And thinke thou not, that aye / the cause of care shall last ; 
These stormy broyles shall ouerblow, / much like a winters blast. 
For Fortune chaungeth more / then fickel fantasie 5 

1668 In nothing Fortune constant is / saue in vnconstancie. 



of Romeus and luliet, 53 

Her hasty ronning whecle / is of a restles coorse. 

That turnes the clyraers hedlong downe, / from better to the woorse. 

And those that are beneth / she heaueth vp agayne : 

1672 So we shall rise to pleasures mount, / out of the pit of payne. 
Ere fowre monthes ouerpasse, / such order will I take. 
And by my letters and my frendes / such meanes I mynd to make, 
That of my wandring race / ended shalbe the toyle, 

1676 And I cald home with honor great / vnto my natiue soyle. 
But if I be condemd / to wander still in thrall, 
I will returne to^ou (mine owne) / befall what may befall. 
And then by strength of frendes, / and with a mighty hand, 

1680 From Verone will I cary thee / into a forein lande. 

Not in mans weede disguisd, / or as one scarcely knowne. 
But as my wife and onely feere, / in garment of thyne owne. 
Wherfore represse at once / the passions of thy hart, 

1684 And where there is no cause of greefe, / cause hope to heale thy smart. 
For of this one thing thou / mayst well assured bee. 
That nothing els but onely death / shall sunder me from thee. 
The reasons that he made / did seeme of so great waight, 

1688 And had with her such force, that she / to him gan aunswer straight : 
Deere syr, nought els wish I / but to obay your will j 
But sure where so you go, your hart / with me shall tary still. 
As signe and certaine pledge, / tyll here I shall you see, 

1692 Of all the powre that ouer you / your selfe did graunt to me ; 

And in his stead take myne, / the gage of my good will. — [Fo. 48] 
One promesse craue I at your hand, / that graunt me to fulfill ; 
Fayle not to let me haue, / at fiyer Lawrence hand, 

1696 The tydinges of your health, and how /your doutfull case shall stand 
And all the wery while / that you shall spend abrode. 
Cause me from time to time to knowe / the place of your abode 
His eyes did gushe out teares, / a sigh brake from his brest, 

1700 When he did graunt and with an othe / did vowe to kepe the best. 
Thus these two louers passe / away the wery night, 
In payne and plaint, not (as they wont) / in pleasure and delight. 
But now (somewhat too soone) / in farthest East arose 

1704 Fayre Lucifer, the golden starre / that Lady Venus chose 5 
Whose course appoynted is / with spedy race to ronne. 



54 



The Tragicall history. 



A messenger of dawning daye, /and of the rysmg sonne. 
Then freshe Aurora with / her pale and siluer glade 

1708 Did clear the skyes, and from the earth / had chased ougly shade. 
When thou ne lookest wide, / ne closely dost tliou winke. 
When Phoebus from our hemysphere / in westerne waue doth sinke. 
What cooller then the heauens / do shew vnto thine eyes, 

17 1 2 The same, (or like) saw Romeus / in farthest Esterne skyes. 
As yet he saw no day, / ne could he call it night. 
With equall force decreasing darke / fought with increasing light. 
Then Romeus in armes / his lady gan to foldef 

1716 With frendly kisse, and ruthfully / she gan her knight beholde. 
With solerane othe they both / theyr sorowfrill leaue do take 5 
They sweare no stormy troubles shall / theyr steady frendship shake. 
Then carefull Romeus / agayne to cell retoornes, 
^7*® And *° ^^r chamber secretly / our ioyles luliet moomes. 
Now hugy cloudes of care, / of sorow, and of dread, 
The clearnes of their gladsome harts / hath wholy ouerspread. 
When golden crested Phoebus / bosteth him in skye, 

1724 And vnder earth, to scape reuenge, / his dedly foe doth flye. 
Then hath these louers day / an ende, their night begonne. 
For eche of them to other is / as to the world the sunne. 
The dawning they shall see, / ne sommer any more, 

17*8 But blackfaced night with winter rough / (ah) beaten ouer sore. 

The wery watch discharged / did hye them home to slepe, [/^<». 49] 
The warders, and the skowtes were chargde / theyr place and coorse 

to keepe. 
And Verone gates awyde /the porters had set open, 

1732 When Romeus had of hys 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, / wi thou ten stop or stay, 

1736 To Mantua gates, where lighted downe, / he sent his man away 
With woords of comfort to / his olde aiHicted syre -, 
And straight, in mynd to soiome there, / a lodgeing doth he hyre. 
And with the nobler sort / he doth himselfe acquaint, 

J 74^ And of his open wrong receaued / the Duke doth heare his plaint. 
He practiseth by frendes / for pardon of exyle ; 



of Romeus and luliet, 55 

The whilst, he seeketh euery way / his sorowes to begyle. 

gut w ho_forgets the cole / that burneth in his brest ? 
1744 Alas his cares denye his hart / the sweete desyred rest 5 

No time findes ^ >e of R^yrth, / he findes no place of ioye, 

BuLfuer^-thiAg occasion geueg / of sorow and annoye. 

Fpr vdiejiinJtQQrning skyes / the heauensJainpes are light, 
J 748 And from the other hemysphere / fayre Phoebus chaceth night. 

When euery man and beast / hath rest from painfull toyle, 

Then in the brest of Romeus / his passions gyn to boyle. 

Then doth he wet with teares / the cowche wheron he lyes, 
1752 And then his sighes the chamber fill, / and out aloude he cryes 

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, 
j^. 175^ M® thinketh Titans restles stedes / of restines do stay 5 

Or that at length they haue / some bayting place found out, 

Or (gyded yll) haue lost theyr way / and wandred farre about. 

Whyle thus in ydel thoughts / the wery time he spendeth, 
1760 The night hath end, but not with night / the plaint of night he endetb. 

Is he accompanied ? / is he in place alone ? 

In cumpany he wayles his liarme, / a part he maketh mono : 

For if his feeres reioyce, / what cause hath he to ioy, 
1764 That wanteth still his cheefe delight, / while they theyr loues enioy ? 

But if with heauy cheere / they shewe their inward greefe, [Fo. 50] 

He wayleth most his wretchednes / that is of wretches cheefe. 

When he doth heare abrode / the praise of ladies blowne, 
1768 Within his thought he scometh them, / and doth preferre his owne. 

When pleasant songes he heares, / wheile others do reioyce. 

The melody of Musike doth / styrre vp his mourning voyce. 

But if in secret place / he walke some where alone, 
1772 The place it selfe and secretnes / redoubleth all his mone. 

Then speakes he to the beastes, / to fethered fowles and trees, 

Vnto the earth, the cloudes, and to / what so beside he sees. 

To them he shewth his smart, / as though they reason had, 
1776 Eche thing may cause his heauines, / but nought may make him glad. 

And (wery of the day) / agayne he calleth night. 

The sunne he curseth, and the howre / when fyrst his eyes saw light. 



5<S 



The Tragi call his fori/. 



And as the night and day / their course do enterchaunge, 

1780 So doth our Romeus nightly cares / for cares of day exchaunge. 
In absence of her knight / the lady no way could 
Kepe trewce betwene her greefes and her, / though nere so fayne she 

would ; 
And though with greater payne / she cloked sorowes smart, 

1784 Yet did her paled face disclose / the passions of her hart. 
Her sighing euery howre, / her weping euery where. 
Her recheles heede of raeate, of slepe, / and wearing of her geare. 
The carefull mother markes ; / then of her health afrayde, 

1788 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 fathers life / and myne, that loue you more 

1792 Then our owne propre breth and life. / Brydel hence forth therfore 
Your greefe and payne, your selfe / 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, 

1796 He is in blisse, ne is there cause / why you should thus lament ? 
You can not call him backe / with teares and shrikinges shrill : 
It is a fait thus still to grudge / at Gods appoynted will. 
The seely soule had now / no longer powre to fayne, 

1800 No longer could she hyde her harme, / but aunswerd thus agayne. 
With heauy broken sighes, / with visage pale and ded : [Fo. si] 

Madame, the last of Tybalts teares / a great while since I shed 5 
Whose spring hath been ere this / so laded out by me, 

1804 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 bryne. 
The wofuU mother knew / not what her daughter ment, 

1808 And loth to vexe her childe by woordes, / her peace she warely hent. 
But when from howre to howre, / from morow to the morow. 
Still more and more she saw increast / her daughters wonted sorow. 
All meanes she sought of her /and howshold folke to know 

18 12 The certaine roote whereon her greefe/and booteless mone doth growe. 
But lo, she hath in vayne / her time and labor lore, 
Wherfore without all measure is / her hart tormented sore. 



of Romeiis and IiU'iet. 



57 




And sith her selfe could not / fynd out the cause of care, 
1816 She thought it good to tell the syre / how yll his childe did fare. 

And when she saw her time, / thus to her feere she sayde : 

Syr, if you marke our daughter well, / the countenance of the mayde. 

And how she fareth since / that Tybalt vnto death 
1820 (Before his time, forst by his foe) / dyd yeld his lining 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 forbegyes / her priea te> her drinke, and ^Iftgpe,.. 
1824 But-ja(rHL^hfi.tendethjiothingels /but to lament and weepe. 

^" gffatfif i?y h?^h she, / nothtnc canteutcs-her hart ^ 

So much, as in the chaumber close / to shut her selfe apart : 

Whffrril i f i l i Ml i i iu tnim r nt / h r r prrnr p afflicted xayndea^ 
1828 That muck in danngec standps her lyfe. / except somme helpe wefynde. 

But (out alas) I see / not how it may be founde, 

Vnlesse that fy rst we might fynd whence / her sorowes thus 
abounde. 

For though with busy care / I haue employde my wit, 
1832 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 coiiccjt e, / t hat all_h er ruth arose 
1836 Out of h er coosi n Tybalts d eathj^ late slayne of dedly foes ; 

But now my hart doth hold / a new repugnant thoiagHt ; [/^«». s^l 

Some greater thing, not Tybalts death, / this chaunge in her hath 
WTfitmrht. 

Her selfe assured me / that many dayes a goe 
1840 She shed the last of Tybalts teares; / which woord amasd me so 

That I then could not gesse / what thing els might her greeue : 

But now at length I haue bethought / me 5 And I doe beleue 

The onely crop and roote / of all my daughters payne 
1844 ^* g^^^S^^^g enuies faynt disease : / perhaps she doth disdayne 

To see in wedlocke yoke / the most part of her feeres. 

Whilst onely she vnmaried / doth lose so many yeres. 

And more perchaunce she thinkes / you mynd to kepe her so ; 
1848 Wherfore dispayring doth she weare / her selfe away with woe, 

Therfore (deere syr) in time / take on your daughter ruth 5 



\ 



58 The Tragicall history. 

For why, a brickel thing is glasse, / and frayle is frayllesse youth, 
loyne her at once to somme / in linke of mariage, 

1852 That may be meete for our degree, /and much about her age : 
So shall you banish care / out of your daughters brest, 
So we her parentes, in our age, / shall liue in quiet rest. 
Wherto gan easely / her husband to agree, 

1856 And to the mothers skilfull talke / thus straight way aunswerd he. 

' Oft haue I thought (deere wife) / of all these thinges ere this. 
But euermore my mynd me gaue, / it should not be amisse 
By farther leysure had / a husband to prouyde ; 

i860 Scarce saw she yet full xvi. yeres : / too yong to be a bryde. 
\ But since her state doth stande / on termes so perilous. 

And that a mayden daughter is / a treasour daungerous. 
With so great speede I will / endeuour to procure 

1864 A husband for our daughter yong, / her sickenes faynt to cure. 
That you shall rest content, / (so warely will I choose) 
And she recouer soone enough / the time she seemes to loose. 
The whilst seeke you to leame, / if she in any part 

1868 Already hath (vnware to vs) / fixed her frendly hart ; 
Lest we haue more respect / to honor and to welth. 
Then to our daughters quiet life, / and to her happy helth : 
Whom I do hold as deere / as thapple o myne eye, 

187a And rather wish in poore estate / and daughterles to dye. 

Then leaue my goodes and her / ythrald to such a one, [Fo. $i. 

Whose chorlish dealing, (I once dead) / should be her cause of mone. 
This pleasant aunswere heard, / the lady partes agayne, 

1876 And Capilet, the maydens sire, / within a day or twayne, 
Conferreth with his frendes / for mariage of his daughter. 
And many gentlemen there were / with busy care that sough' her -, 
Both, for the mayden was / well shaped, yong and fayre, 

1880 As also well brought vp, and wise ; / her fathers onely heyre. 
Emong the rest was one / inflamde with her desire, 
Who County Paris cliped was ; / an Earle he had to syre. 
Of all the suters him / the father liketh best, 

1884 And easely vnto the Earle / he maketh his behest, 

Both of his owne good will, / and of his frendly ayde. 

To win his wife vnto his will, / and to perswade the mayde. 



of Romeits and Juliet. 



59 



The wife dyd ioy to heare / the ioyfull husband say 

1888 How happy liap, how meete a match, / he had found out that day j 
Ne did she seeke to hyde / her ioyes within her hart. 
But straight she hyeth to luliet j / to her she telles, apart, 
What happy talke (by meane / of her) was past no rather 

1892 Betwene the woing Paris and / her carefiill louing father. 
The person of the man, / the fewters of his face. 
His youthful! yeres, his fayrenes, and / his port, and semely grace. 
With curious wordes she payntes / before her daughters eyes, 

1896 And then with store of vertues prayse / she heaues him to the skyes. 
She vauntes his race, and gy ftes / that Fortune did him geue, 
Wherby (she saith) both she and hers / in great delight shall liue. 
When luliet conceiued / her parentes whole entent, 

1900 Wherto both loue and reasons right / forbod her to assent. 
Within her selfe she thought / rather then be forsworne. 
With horses wilde her tender partes / a sonder should be torne. 
Not now, with bashfiill brow, / (in wonted wise) she spake, 

1904 Put with vnwonted boldnes straight / into these woordes she brake : 
Madame, I maruell much, / that you so lauasse are. 
Of me your childe, (your iewel once, / your onely ioy and care,) 
As thus to yelde me vp / at pleasure of another, 

1908 Before you know if I doe like / or els mislike my louer. 

Doo what you list, but yet / of this assure you still, [/J^. 54] 

If you do as you say you will, / I yelde not there vntill. 
For had I choyse of twayne, / farre rather would I choose 

191 2 My part of all your goodes and eke / my breath and lyfe to lose. 
Then graunt that he possesse / of me the smallest part j 
First, weary of my painefuU life, / my cares shall kill my hart. 
Els will I perce my brest / with sharpe and bloody knife -, 

19 16 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 loue : Wherfore, on knees, / deere mother, I you pray, 
Xo let me liue henceforth, / as I haue liued tofore : 

1920 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 / de^yre to place me so. 



6o The Tragicall history, 

1924 You hast away my lingring death, / and double all my woe. 
So deepe this aunswere made / the sorowes downe to siuke 
Into the mothers brest, that she / ne knoweth what to thinke 
Of these her daughters woords, / but all appalde she standes, 

1928 And vp vnto the heauens she throwes / her wondring head and handes. 
And, nigh besyde her selfe, / her husband hath she sought ; 
She telles him all j she doth forget / ne yet she hydeth ought. 
The testy old man, wroth, / disdain full without measure, 

1932 Sendes forth his foike in haste for her, / and byds them take no leysure : 
Ne on her teares or plaint / at all to haue remorse, 
But (if they can not with her will) / to bring the mayde perforce. 
The message heard, they part, / to fetch that they must fet, 

1936 And willingly with them walkes forth / obedient luliet. 
Arriued in the place, / when she her father saw. 
Of whom (as much as duety would) / the daughter stoode in awe. 
The seruantes sent away / (the mother thought it meete), 

1 940 The wofull daughter all bewept / fell groueling at his feete. 
Which she doth washe with teares / as she thus groueling lyes : 
So fast, and eke so plenteously / distill they from her eyes : 
When she to call for grace / her mouth doth think to open, 

1944 Muet she is ; for sighes and sobs / her fcarefull talke haue broken. 

The syre, whose swelling wroth / her teares could not asswage, [Fo. 55] 
With fiery eyen, and skarlet cheekes / thus spake her in his rage. 
Whilst ruthfully stood by / the maydens mother mylde : 

1948 Listen (quoth he) vnthankfull and / thou disobedient childe j 
Hast thou so soone let slip / out of thy myiide the woord. 
That thou so often times hast heard / rehearsed at my boord ? 
How much the Romayne youth / of parentes stood in awe, 

19J2 And eke what powre vpon theyr seede / the fathers had by lawe ? 
Whom they not ouely might / pledge, alienate, and sell, 
(When so they stoode in neede) but more, / if children did rebell. 
The parentes had the power / of lyfe and sodayn death. 

1956 What if those goodmen should agayne / receaue the liuyng bretb. 
In how straight bondes would they / thy stubberne body bynde ? 
What weapons would they seeke for thee ? / what tormentes would 

they fynde? 
To chasten (if they saw) / the lewdnes of thy lyfe. 



of Romeus and luliet. 6i 

i960 Thy great vnthankfiilnes to me, / and shamefull sturdy strife ? 
Such care thy mother had, / so deere thou wert to me. 
That I with long and earnest sute / prouided haue for thee 
One of the greatest lordes / that wonnes about this towne, 

1964 And for his many vertues sake / a man of great renowne. 
Of whom both thou and I / vnworthy are too much. 
So riche ere long he shalbe left, / his fathers welth is such. 
Such is the noblenes / and honor of the race 

1968 From whence his father came : and yet / thou playest in this case 
The dainty foole, and stubberne / gyrlej for want of skill 
Thou dost refuse thy ofFred weale, /and disobay my will. 
Euen by his strength I sweare, / that fyrst did geue me lyfe, 

1972 And gaue me in my youth the strength / to get thee on my wyfe. 
On lesse by wensday next / thou bende as I am bent. 
And at our castle cald free towne / thou freely doe assent 
To Counte Paris sute, / and promise to agree 

1976 To whatsoeuer then shall passe / twixt him, my wife, and me. 
Not onely will I geue / all that I haue away 
From thee, to those that shall me loue, / me honor, and obay. 
But also too so close / and to so hard a gayle, «*— - • - 

1980 I shall thee wed, for all thy life, / that sure thou shalt not fayle 

A thousand times a day / to wishe for sodayn death, [Fo.iisi 

And curse the day and howre when first / thy lunges did geue thee 

breath. 
Aduise thee well, and say / that thou art warned now, 

1984 And thinke not that I speake in sport, / or mynd to breake my vowe. 
For were it not that I / to Counte Paris gaue 
My fayth, which I must kepe vnfalst, / my honor so to saue. 
Ere thou go hence, my selfe / would see thee chastned so, 

1988 That thou shouldst once for all be taught / thy duetie how to knowe ; 
And what reuenge of olde / the angry syres did finde 
Against theyr children that rebeld, / and shewd them selfe 
vnkinde. 
These sayd, the olde man straight / is gone in hast away ; 

1992 Ne for his daughters aunswere would / the testy father stay. 
And after him his wife / doth follow out of doore. 
And there they leaue theyr chidden chylde / kneeling vpon the floore. 



6a 



The Tragicall history. 



Then she that oft had seene / the fiuy of her syre, 

1996 Dreading what might come of his rage^ / nould farther styrre his jre. 
Vnto her chamber she / withdrew her selfe aparte. 
Where she was wonted to vnlode /the sorowes of her hart. 
There did she not so much / busy her eyes in sleping, 

2000 As ouerprest with restles thoughts / in piteous booteless weping. 
The fast falling of teares / make not her teares decrease^ 
Ne, by the powring forth of plaint^ / the cause of plaint doth cease. 
So that to thend the mone / and sorow may decaye, 

2004 The best is that she seeke some meane / to take the cause away. 
Her wery bed betime / the wofiill wight forsakes^ 
And to sainct Frauncis church to masse / her way deuoutly takes. 
The fryer forth is calde j / she prayes him heare her shrift j 

2008 Deuocion is in so yong yeres / a rare and precious gyft. 
When on her tender knees / the dainty lady kneeles. 
In minde to powre forth all the greefe / that inwardly she feeles. 
With sighes and salted teares / her shryuing doth beginne, 

2012 For she of heaped sorowes hath / to speake, and not of sinne. 
Her voyce with piteous plaint / was made already horce. 
And hasty sobs, when she would speake, / brake of her woordes parforce. 
But as she may, peece meale, / she powreth in his lappe 

2016 The manage newes, a mischief newe, / prepared by mishappe. 

Her parentes promisse erst / to Counte Paris past, [P». 57) 

Her fathers threats she telleth him, / and thus concludes at last : 
Once was I wedded well, / ne will I wed agayne ; 
loio For since I know I may not be / the wedded wyfe of twayne. 
For I am bound to haue / one God, one fayth, one make. 
My purpose is as soone as I / shall hence my iomey take. 
With these two handes, which ioynde / vnto the heauens I stretch, 

2024 The hasty death which I desire, / vnto my selfe to reache. 
This day (O Romeus) / this day, thy wofull wife 
Will bring the end of all her cares / by ending carefull lyfe. 
So my departed sprite / shall witnes to the skye, 

2028 And eke my blood vnto the earth / beare record, how that I 
Haue kept my fayth vnbroke, / stedfast vnto my frende. 

When this her heauy tale was tolde, / her vowe eke at an ende. 
Her gasing here and there, / her feerce and staring looke. 



of Romeus and luliet. 



63 



2032 Did witnes that some lewd attempt / her hart had vndertooke. 
Whereat the fiyer astonde, / and gastfully afrayde 
Lest she by dede perfourme her woord, / thus much to her he sayde : 
Ah lady luliet, / what nede the wordes you spake ? 

2036 I pray you, graunt me one request, / for blessed Maries sake. 

Measure somewhat your greefe, / holde here a while your peace. 
Whilst I bethinke me of your case, / your plaint and sorowes cease. 
Such comfort will I geue / you, ere you part from hence, 

2040 And for thassaltes of Fortunes yre / prepare so sure defence, 
So holesome salue will I / for your afflictions iinde. 
That you shall hence depart agayne / with well contented mynde. 
His wordes haue chased straight / out of her hart despayre, 

2044 Her blacke and ougly dredfull thoughts / by hope are waxen fayre. 
So fryer Lawrence now / hath left her there alone. 
And he out of the church in hast / is to his chaumber gone ; 
Where sundry thoughtes within / his carefull head arise j 

2048 The old mans foresight diners doutes / hath set before his eyes. 
His conscience one while / condems it for a sinne 
To let her take Paris to spouse, / since he himselfe had byn 
The chefest cause, that she / vnknowne to father or mother, 

2052 Not due monthes past, in that selfe place / was wedded to another. 
An other whib an hugy / heape of daungers dred [Fo. 58J 

His restles thought hath heaped vp / within his troubled hed. 
£uen of it selfe thattempt / he iudgeth perilous ; 

2oc6 The execucion eke he demes / so much more daungerous. 
That to a womans grace / he must himselfe commit. 
That yong is, simple and vnware, / for waighty affaires vnfit. 
For if she fayle in ought, / the matter published, 

2060 Both she and Romeus were vndonne, / himselfe eke punished. 
When too and fro in mynde / he dyuers thoughts had cast. 
With tender pity and with ruth / his hart was wonne at last -, 
He thought he rather would / in hasard set his fame, 

2064 Then suffer such adultery. / resoluing on the same. 
Out of his closet straight / he tooke a litele glasse. 
And then with double hast retornde / where wofull luliet was j 
Whom he hath found welnigh / in traunce, scarce drawing breath, 

2068 Attending still to heare the newes / of lyfe or els of death. 



64 The Tragicall history. 

Of whom he did enquire / of the appointed day ; 

On wensday next, (quod luliet) / so doth my father say, 

I must geue my consent } / but (as I do remember) 
2072 The solemne day of manage is / the tenth day of September. 

Deere daughter, quoth the fryer / of good chere see thou be. 

For loe, sainct Frauncis of his grace / hath shewde a way to me. 

By which I may both thee / and Romeus together 
2076 Out of the bondage which you feare / assuredly deliuer. 

Euen firom the holy font / thy husband haue I knowne. 

And, since he grew in yeres, haue kept / his counsels as myne owne. 

For from his youth he would / \Tifold to me his hart, 
2080 And often haue I cured him / of anguish and of smart j 

I know that by desert / his frendship I haue wonne, 

And I him holde as dere as if / he were my propre sonne. 

Wherfore my frendly hart / can not abyde that he 
2084 Should wrongfully in ought be harmde, / if that it lay in me 

To right or to reuenge / the wrong by my aduise. 

Or timely to preuent the same / in any other wise. 

And sith thou art his wife, / thee am I bound to loue, 
2088 For Romeus frindships sake, and seeke / thy anguishe to remoue. 

And dreadfull torments, which / thy hart besegen rounde ; [Fo, 59] 

Wherfore, my daughter, geue good eare / vnto my counsels sounde. 

Forget not what I say, / ne tell it any wight, 
2092 Not to the nurce thou trustest so, / as Romeus is thy knight ; 

For on this threed doth hang / thy death and eke thy lyfe. 

My fame or shame, his weale or woe / that chose thee to his w}'fe. 

Thou art not ignorant, / (because of such renowne 
2096 As euery where is spred of me, / but chefely in this towne,) 

That in my youthfiill dayes / abrode I trauayled. 

Through euery lande found out by men, / by men inhabited ; 

So twenty yeres from home, / in landes \'nknowne a gest, 
2 100 I neuer gaue my weary limmes / long time of quiet rest. 

But in the desert woodes, / to beastes of cruell kinde, 

C>r on the seas to drenching wanes, / at pleasure of the winde, 

i haue committed them, / to ruth of rouers hand, 
'^104 Aiid to a thousand daungers more, / by water and by lande. 

Bui xMji, in *'ayne (my childe) / hath all my wandnng byn ; 



of Romeus and luliet, 65 

Beside the great contentednes / my sprete abydeth in. 
That by the pleasant thought / of passed thinges doth grow, 

a 108 One priuate fhite more haue I pluckd, / which thou shalt shortly know : 
What force the stones, the plants, / and metals haue to woorke. 
And diuers other thinges that in / the bowels of earth do loorke. 
With care I haue sought out, / with payne I did them proue i 

aii2 With them eke can I helpe my selfe / at times of my behoue, 
(Although the science be / against the lawes of men) 
When sodain daunger forceth me ; / but yet most cheefly when 
The worke to doe is least / displeasing vnto God, 

a 1 16 Not helping to do any sinne / that wrekefiill loue forbode. 
For since in lyfe no hope / of long abode I haue. 
But now am com me vnto the brinke / of my appointed graue. 
And that my death drawes nere, / whose stripe I may not shonne, 

a 1 20 But shalbe calde to make account / of all that I haue donne. 
Now ought I from hence forth / more depely print in mynde 
The iudgement of the lord, then when / youthes folly made me blynde. 
When loue and fond desyre / were boyling in my brest, 

2 124 Whence hope and dred by striuing thoughts / had banishd frendly rest. 
Knowe therfore, (daughter) that / with other gyftes which I iFo. 60] 
Haue well attained to, by grace / and fauour of the skye. 
Long since I did finde out, / and y^t the way I knowe, 

2128 Of certain rootes, and sauory herbes / to make a kinde of dowe. 
Which baked hard, and bet / into a powder fine. 
And dronke with conduite water, or / with any kynd of wine. 
It doth in halfe an howre / astonne the taker so, 

2132 And mastreth all his sences, that / he feeleth weale nor woe : 
And so it burieth vp / the sprite and liuing breath. 
That euen the skilfull leche would say, / that he is slayne by death. 
One vertue more it hath, / as meruelous as this ; 

2136 The taker, by receiuing it, / at all not greened is 5 
But painlesse as a man / that thinketh nought at all. 

Into a swete and quiet slepe / immediately doth fall ; ^ — 

From which, (according to / the quantitie he taketh) 

2 140 Longer or shorter is the time / before the sleper waketh j 
And thence (thefFect once wrought) / agayne it doth restore 
Him that receaued vnto the state / wherin he was before. 

BOMEUS. 5 



66 The Tragicall history. 

Wherfore, marke well the ende / of thb my tale begonne, 

2 144 And therby learne what is by thee / hereafter to be donne. 
Cast of from thee at once / the weede of woman nish dread. 
With manly courage arme thy selfe / from heele vuto the head ; 
For onely on the feare / or boldnes of thy brest 

a [48 The happy happe or yll mishappe / of thy afFajrre doth rest. 
Receiue this vyoll small / and keepe it as thine eye -, 
And on thy manage day, before / the sunne doe cleare the skye, 
Fdl it with water full / vp to the very brim, 

2 1 j2 Then drinke it of, and thou shalt feele / throughout eche vayne and lim 
A pleasant slumber slide, / and quite dispred at length 
On all thy partes, from euery part / reue all thy kindly strength ; 
Withouten mouing thus / thy ydle parts shall rest, 

2156 No pulse shall goe, ne hart once beate / within thy hollow brest. 
But tliou shalt lye as she / that dyeth in a traunce : 
Thy kinsmen and thy trusty firendes / shall wayle the sodain chaunce ; 
Thy corps then will they bring / to graue in this church yarde, 

2160 Where thy forefathers long agoe / a costly tombe preparde. 

Both for them selfe and eke / for those that should come after, [/> 6t) 
Both deepe it is, and long and large, / where thou shall rest, my 

daughter. 
Till I to Mantua sende / for Romeus, thy knight 5 

2164 Out of the tombe both he and I / will take thee forth that night. 
And when out of thy slepe / thou shalt awake agayne. 
Then mayst thou goe with him from hence; / and, healed of thy payne. 
In Mantua lead with him / vnknowne a pleasant life ; 

2168 And yet perhaps in time to comme, / when cease shall all the strife. 
And that the peace is made / twixt Romeus and his foes. 
My solfe may finde so fit a time / these secretes to dyscldse. 
Both to my pra}'se, and to / thy tender parentes ioy, 

2172 That dnungerlos, without reproche, / thou shalt thy loue enioy. 
When of his skilfull tale / the firver had made an ende. 
To which our luliet so well / her eare and wits dyd bend. 
That she hath heard it all / and hath forgotten nought, 

2176 Her fainting hart was comforted / with hope and pleasant thought. 
And then to him she said — / Doubte not but that I will 
With stoute and vnappauled hart / your happy best fulfill. 



of Rovieus and lullet. 67 

Yea, if I wirt it were / a veneinoiis dedly drinke, 

di8o Rather would I that through my throte / the certaine bane should sinke. 
Then I (not drinking it) / into his handes should fall. 
That hath no part of me as yet, / ne ought to haue at all. 
Much more I ought with bold / and with a willing hart 

2184 To greatest daunger yelde my selfe, / and to the dedly smart. 
To comme to him on whome / my life doth wholy stay. 
That is my onely hartes delight, / and so he shalbe aye. 
Then goe (quoth he) my childe, / I pray that God on hye 

a 188 Direct thy foote, and by thy hand / vpon the way thee gye. 
God graunt he so confirme / in thee thy present will. 
That no inconstant toy thee let / thy promesse to fulfill. 
A thousand thankes and more / our luliet gaue the fiyer, 

2 J92 And homeward to her fathers house / ioy^ill she doth retyre ; 
And as with stately gate / she passed through the streete. 
She saw her mother in the doore, / that with her there would meete. 
In mynd to aske if she / her purpose yet did holde, 

2196 In mynd also, a part twixt them, / her duety to haue tolde; 

Wherfore with pleasant face, / and with vnwonted chere, iFo. 62] 

As soone as she was vnto her / approched sumwhat nere. 
Before the mbther spake, / thus did she fyrst begin : 

2200 Madame, at sainct Frauncis churche / haue I this morning byn. 
Where I did make abode / a longer while (percase) 
Then dewty would ; yet haue I not / been absent from this place 
So long a while, whithout / a great and iust cause why ; 

2204 This frute haue I receaued there 5 / my hart, erst lyke to dye. 
Is now reuiued agajme, / and my afflicted brest. 
Released from affliction, / restored is to rest ! 
For lo, my troubled gost / (alas too sore diseasde) 

2208 By gostly counsell and aduise / hath fryer Lawrence easde ; 
To whome I did at large / discourse my former lyfe. 
And in confession did I tell / of all our passed strife j 
Of Counte Parb sute, / and how my lord, my syre, 

2212 By my vngrate and stubbome stryfe / I styrred vnto 3rre; 
But lo, the holy fryer / hath by his gostly lore 
Made me another woman now / then I had been before. 
By strength of argumentes / he charged so my mynde. 



68 The Tragicall history, 

2216 That (though I sought) no sure defence / my serching thought could 
finde. 
So forced I was at length / to yelde vp witles will, 
And promist to be orderd by / the friers praysed skill. 
Wherfore, albeit I / had rashely, long before, 

2220 The bed and rytes of manage / for many yeres forswore, 

— — Yet mother, now behold / your daughter at your will. 

Ready (if you commaunde her ought) / your pleasure to fiilfilL 
Wherfore in humble wise, / dere madam, I you pray, 

2224 To goe vnto my lord and syre, / withouten long deby ; 
Of him fyrst pardon craue / of faultes already past. 
And shew him (if it pleaseth you) / his child is now at last 
Obedient to his iust / and to his skilflill best, 

2228 And that I will (god lending life) / on wensday next, be prest 
To wayte on him and you, / vnto thappoynted place. 
Where I will, in your hearing, and / before my fathers face, 
Vnto the Counte geue / my fayth and whole assent, 

2232 And take him for my lord and spouse; / thus fully am I bent; 

And that out of your mynde / I may remoue all doute, [/"*. 63I 

Vnto my closet fare I now, / to searche and to choose out 
The brauest garmentes and / the richest iewels there, 

2236 Which (better him to please) I mynd / on wensday next to weare j 
For if I did excell / the famous Gretian rape. 
Yet might attyre helpe to amende / my bewty and my shape. 
The simple mother was / rapt in to g^at delight ; 

2240 Not halfe a word could she bring forth, / but in this ioyfull plight 
With nimble foote she ran, / and with vnwonted pace, 
Vnto her pensiue husband, and / to him with pleasant face 
She tolde what she had heard, / and prayseth much the fiyer ; 

2244 And ioyfull teares ranne downe the cheekes / of this gray-berded syer. 
With handes and eyes heaued vp / he thankes God in his hart. 
And then he sayth : This is not (wife) / the friers first desart; 
Oft hath he shewde to vs / great frendship heretofore, 

2248 By helping vs at nedefull times / with wisdomes pretious lore. 
In all our common weale / scarce one is to be founde 
But is, for somme good torne, vnto / this holy father boundc. 
Oh that the thyrd part of / my goods (I doe not fayne) 



of Romeus and luliet, 6g 

aa j2 But twenty of his passed yeres / might purchase him agayne ! 
So much in recompence / of frendship would I geue. 
So much (in faith) his extreme age / my frendly hart doth greue. 
These said, the glad old man / from home goeth straight abrode, 

aa j6 And to the stately palace hyeth / where Paris made abode j 
Whom he desyres to be / on wensday next his geast. 
At Freetowne, where he m3mdes to make / for him a costlyjeg^t. 
But loe, the Earle saith, / such feasting were but lost, 

aa6o And counsels him till mariage time / to spare so great a cost. 
For then he knoweth well / the charges wilbe great j 
The whilst, hb hart desyreth still / her sight, and not his meate. 
He craues of Capilet / that he may straight go see 

2264 Fayre luliet ; wher to he doth / right willingly agree. 

The mother, wamde before, / her daughter doth prepare j 
She warneth and she chargeth her / that in no wyse she spare 
Her curteous speche, her pleasant / lookes, and commely grace, 

a268 But liberally to geue them forth / when Paris commes in place : 

Which she as cunningly / could set forth to the shewe, {Fo, 64] 

As cunning craftesmen to the sale / do set their wares on rew ; 
That ere the County did / out of her sight depart, 

aa7a So secretly vnwares to him / she stale away his hart. 

That of his lyfe and death / the wyly wench hath powre. 

And now his longing hart thinkes long / for theyr appoynted howre 

And with importune sute / the parentes doth he pray 

aa76 The wedlocke knot to knit soone vp, / and hast the mariage day. 
The woer hath past forth / the first day in this sort. 
And many other more then this, / in pleasure and 4isport. 
At length the wished time / of long hoped delight 

aaSo (As Paris thought) drew nere ; but nere / approched heauy plight. 
Against the bridall day / the parentes did prepare 
Such rich attyre, such furniture, / such store of dainty fare. 
That they which did behold / the same the night before 

a284 Did thinke and say, a man could scarcely / wishe for any more. 
Nothing did seeme to deere -, / the deerest thinges were bought ; 

\ And (as the written story saith) / in dede there wanted nought. 
That longd to his degree, / and honor of his stocke j 

aaSS But luliet, the whilst, her thoughts / within her brest did lockei 



70 



The Tragicall history. 



•V 



Euen from the trusty nurce, / whose secretnes was trjrde. 

The secret counsell of her hart / the nurce childe seekes to hide. 

For sith, to mocke her dame^ / she dyd not sticke to Ije, 

229a She thought no sinne with shew of truth / to bleare her nurces eye. 
In chamber secretly / the tale she gan renew. 
That at the doore she tolde her dame, / as though it had been trew. 
The flattring nurce did prayse / the fryer for his skill, 

2296 And said that she had done right well / by wit to order will. 
She setteth foorth at large / the fathers furious rage. 
And eke she prayseth much to her / the second manage 3 
And County Paris now / she praiseth ten times more, 

2300 By wrong, then she her selfe by right / had Romeus pra3r5de before. 
Paris shall dwell there still, / Romeus shall not retoume -, 
What shall it boote her life / to languish still and moume. 
The pleasures past before / she must account as gayne j 

2304 But if he doe retome, what then ? / for one she shall haue twayne. 
The one shall vse her as / his lawful! wedded wyfe, C-f*. 653 

In wanton loue with equall ioy / the other leade his lyfe ; 
And best shall she be sped / of any townish dame, 

2308 Of husband and of paramour / to fynde her chaunge of game. 
These wordes and like the nurce / did speake, in hope to please. 
But greatly did these wicked wordes / the ladies mynde disease ; 
But ay she hid her wrath, / and seemed well content, 

2312 When dayly dyd the naughty nurce / new argumentes inuent. 
But when the bryde perceued / her howre approched nere. 
She sought (the best she could) to fayne, / and temperd so her cheere. 
That by her outward looke / no lining wight could gesse 

2316 Her inward woej and yet a new / renewde b her distresse. 
Vnto her chaumber doth / the pensiue wight repayre. 
And in her hand a percher light / the nurce beares vp the stayre« 
In luliets chamber was / her wonted vse to lye ; 

2320 Wherfore her mistres, dreading that / she should her work descrye. 
As sone as she began / her pallet to vnfold. 
Thinking to lye that night where she / was wont to lye of olde. 
Doth gently pray her seeke / her lodgeing some where els ; 

2324 And, lest she crafty should suspect, / a ready reason telles. 
Dere frend (quoth she) you knowe, / to morow is the day 



of Romeus and Juliet. 



71 



X 



k 



Of new contract ; wherfore, this nighty / my purpose is to pray 
Vnto the heauenly myndes / that dwell aboue tFe skyes, 
2328 And order all the course of thinges / as they can best deuyse. 
That they so srayle vpon / the doynges of To morow. 
That all the remnant of my lyfe / may be exempt from sorow : 
Wherfore, I pray you, leaue / me here alone this night, ^ 
2332 But see that you to morow comme / before the dawning light. 
For you must coorle my heare, / and set on my attyre. 
And easely the louing nurse / dyd yelde to her desire. 
For she within her hed / dyd cast before no doute ; 
^33^ She little knew the close attempt / her nurce childe went about. 
The nurce departed once, / the chamber doore shut close. 
Assured that no liuing wight / her doing myght disclose. 
She powred forth into / the vyole of the fryer, 
2340 Water, out of a siluer ewer, / that on the boord stoode by her. 

The slepy mixture made, / fayre luliet doth it hyde [/^*. 66] 

Vnder her bolster soft, and so / vnto her bed she hyed : 
Where diuers nouel thoughts / arise within her hed, 
2344 And she is so inuironed / about with deadly dred. 
That what before she had / resolued vndoutedly 
That same she calleth into doute -, / and lying doutfrilly 
Whilst honest loue did striue / with dred of dedly payne, 
2348 With handes ywrong, and weping eyes, / thus gan she to complaine : — 
What, is there any one, / beneth the heauens hye. 
So much vnfortunate as I ? /so much past hope as I ? 
What, am not I my selfe, / of all that yet were borne, 
2352 The depest drenched in dispayre, / and most in Fortunes skome ? 
For loe the world for me / hath nothing els to finde. 
Beside mishap and wretchednes /and anguish of the mynde ; 
Since that the cruel cause / of my vnhappines 
2356 Hath put me to this sodaine plonge, / and brought to such distres. 
As (to the end I may / my name and conscience saue) _. 

I must deuowre the mixed drinke / that by me here I haue. 
Whose woorking and whose force / as yet I doe not know. 
2360 And of this piteous plaint began / another doute to growe f 
What doe I knowe (quoth she) / if that this powder shall 
Sooner or later then it should / or els not woorke at all ? ^_ 



7 2 The Tragicall history. 

And then my craft descride / as open as the day, 

2364 The peoples tale and laughing stocke / shall I remayne for aye. 
And what know I (quoth she) / if seqientes odious. 
And other beastes and wormes that are / of nature venemous. 
That wonted are to lurke / in darke caues vnder grounde, 

2368 And commonly, as I haue heard, / in dead mens tombes are found. 
Shall harme me, yea or nay, / where I shall lye as ded ? — 
Or how shall I that alway haue / in so fre»he ay re been bred. 
Endure the lothsome stinke / of such an heaped store 

^372 Of carkases, not yet consumde, / and bones that long before 
Intombed were, where I / my sleping place shall haue. 
Where all my auncesters doe rest, / my kindreds common graue ? 
Shall not the fryer and / my Romeus, when they come, 

2376 Fynd me (if I awake before) / jrstifled in the tombe ? 

And whilst she in these thougbtes / doth dwell somwhat to long. 
The force of her ymagining / anon dyd waxe so strong, *' 

That she surmysde she saw, / out of the hollow vaulte, 

2380 (A griesly thing to looke vpon) / the carkas of Tybalt j 
Right in the selfe same sort / that she few dayes before 
Had seene him in his blood embrewde, / to death eke wounded sore. 
And then when she agayne / within her selfe had wayde 

2384 That quicke she should be buried there, / and by his side be layde. 
All comfortles, for she / shall lining feere haue none. 
But many a rotten carkas, and / full many a naked bone ; 
Her dainty tender partes / gan sheuer all for dred, 

2388 Her golden heares did stand \7>right / vpon her chillish bed. 
Then preiised with the feare / that she there liued in, 
A iwcat as colde as mountaine 3rse / pearst through her tender skin. 
That with the mopture hath / wet euery part of hers : 

a JOa A>nd more besides, she vainely thinkes, / whilst vainely thus she feares, 
A thousand bodies dead / haue compast her about. 
And Iwt they will dismember her / she greatly standes in dout. 
But when the felt her strength / began to weare away, 

2106 By little and little, and in her hart / her feare increased ay, 
l)rr»dlng that weakencs might, / or foolish cowardise, 
Illndrr llir execution of/ the purposde enterprise, 
A« iilir luul fftthtike been. / in hast the glasse she cought. 



of Romeus and luliet. 



73 



24C0 And yp she dranke the mixture quite, / withouten farther thought. 
Then on her brest she crost / her armes long and small, 
And so, her senses fajling her, / into a traunce did falL 

And when that Phoebus bright / heaued vp his seemelj hedj 

2404 And from the East in open skies / his glistring rajes dispred. 
The nurce vnshut the doore, / for she the key did keepe. 
And douting she had slept to long, / she thought to breake her slepe 
Fyrst softly dyd she call, / then lowder thus did crye, 

2408 Lady, you slepe to long, (the Earle) / will rayse you by and by. 
But wele away, in vayne / vnto the deafe she calles. 
She thinkes to speake to luliet, / but speaketh to the walles. 
If all the dredfuU noyse / that might on earth be found, 

2412 Or on the roaring seas, or if/ the dredfull thunders sound. 

Had blowne into her eares, / I thinke they could not make IF^, 68] 
The sleping wight before the time / by any meanes awake 3 
So were the sprites of lyfe / shut vp, and senses thrald 3 

2416 Wherwith the seely careful] nurce / was wondrously apalde. 
She thought to daw her now / as she had donne of olde. 
But loe, she found her parts were stiffe / and more then marble colde ^ 
Neither at mouth nor nose / found she recourse of breth ; 

2420 Two certaine argumentes were these / of her vntimely death. 
Wherfore as one distraught / she to her mother ranne. 
With scratched &ce, and heare betorne, / but no woord speake she can. 
At last (with much a doe) / dead (quoth she) is my childe. 

2424 Now, out alas (the mother cryde) / and as a Tyger wilde. 

Whose whelpes, whilst she is gonne / out of her denne to pray. 
The hunter gredy of his game / doth kill or cary away 3 
So rageing forth she ranne / vnto her luliets bed, 

2428 And there she found her derling and / her onely comfort ded. 
Then shriked she out as lowde / as seme her would her breth. 
And then (that pity was to heare) /thus cryde she out on death : 
Ah cruell death (quoth she) / that thus against all right, 

2432 Hast ended my felicitie, / and robde my hartes delight. 
Do now thy worst to me, / once wreake thy wrath for all, 
£uen in despite I crye to thee, / thy vengeance let thou &11. 
Wherto stay I (alas) / since luliet is gone ? 

2436 Wherto Hue I since she is dead, / except to wayle and mone ? 



74 The TragkaU history. 

Alacke, dere chyld, my teares / for thee dufl nraa- cease ; 
Eaen ai my dayes oi U£e mcreamty / to shaQ my plaint increase . 
Soch store of aorow shafl / aflict my tender hart, 

2440 That dedly panges, when they aasayle / shall not augment my smart. 
TlxD gan she so to sobbe^ / it seemde her hart wookl brast -, 
And while she crietii thus, behold, / the &ther at the last. 
The County Paris, and / c^ gentilmen a ronte, 

2444 And ladies of Verona towne / and coontry roond aboot. 
Both kindreds and aiies / thether apace haoe preast. 
For by theyr presence there they sooght / to honor so the feast 3 
Bat when the beany newes / the bydden geastes did beare, 

2448 So mnch they moomd, that who had scene / theyr countnance and 
theyr cheere. 
Might easeiy bane indgde / by that that they had seene, [/"#. 69] 

That day the day of wrath and eke / of pity to bane beene. 
But more then all the rest / the Withers hart was so 

a4ja Smit with tbe beany newes, and so / shot vp with sodain woe. 
That he ne had tbe powre / his daughter to bewepe, 
Ne yet to speake, bat long is forsd / hb teares and plaint to kepe. 
In all tbe hast be hath / for skilfull kacbes sent ; 

3456 And, bearyng of her passed life, / they iudge with one assent 
Tbe cause of this her deatb / was inward care and thought ; 
And then with double force againe / tbe doubled sorowes wrought. 
If euer there bath been / a kmentable day, 

3460 A day, ruthfull, vnfortunale / and 6tall, then I say. 

The same was it in which / through Veron towne was spred 
The wofuU newes how Juliet / was sterued in her bed. 
For to she was bemonde / both of the yong and olde, 

^464 That it might seeme to him that would / the conunen plaint behold. 
That all the commen weltb / did stand in ieopardyj 
8<i vniuewall was the plaint, / so piteous was tbe ciye. 
VoT lo, beside her shape / and natiue bewties hewe, 

9468 With which, like as she grew in age, / her vertues prayses grewe, 
H\w wiw also so wise, / so lowly, and so mylde, 
Thrtl. miru from the hory head / vnto the witles childe, 
H\w wiui thr h«rt«i of all, / so that there was not one, 

, 1; , N^. titpM. m niiinU. but dyd that day / her wretched state bemone. 



of Romeus and lulieL 75 

Whikt luliet slept^ and whilst / the other wepen thus. 
Our fiyer Lawrence hath by this / sent one to Romeus^ 
A fner of his house^ / there neuer was a better, 

2476 He trusted him enen as himselfe, / to whom he gaue a letter^ 
In which he written had / of eoeiy thing at lengthy 
That past twiiit luliet and him, / and of the powden ftveogthj 
The neiLt night afler that, / he willeth him to comme 

2480 To helpe to take his luliet / out of the hollow toombe^ 

For by that time, the drinke, / he saith, will cease to woorke. 
And for one night his wife and he / within his cell shall loorke ; 
Then shall he caiy her / to Mantua away, 

2484 (Till fickell Fortune fauour him,) / disguisde in mans aray. 

Thys letter closde he sendes / to Romeus by his brother 3 [F0, 70] 
He chargeth him that in no case / he geue it any other. 
Apace our frier John / to Mantua him hyes ; 

2488 And, for because in Italy / it is a wonted gyse 

That friers in the towne / should seeldome walke alone. 
But of theyr couent ay should be / accompanide with one 
Of his profession, straight / a house he fyndeth out, 

2492 In mynde to take some frier with him, / to walke the towne about. 
But entred once he might / not issue out aga3me. 
For that a brother of the house / a day before or twajme 
Dyed of the plague, (a sickenes which / they greatly feare and hate) 

2496 So were the brethren charged to kepe / within theyr couent gate. 
Bard of theyr felowship / that in the towne do wonne ; 
The towne folke eke commaunded are / the fryers house to shonne, 
Tyll they that had the care of health / the3rr fredome should renew ; 

2500 AVherof, as you shall shortly heare, / a mischeefe great there 
grewe. 
The fryer by this restraint, / beset with dred and sorow. 
Not knowing what the letters held, / differd vntill the morowe ; 
And then he thought in tyme / to send to Romeus. 

2J04 But whilst at Mantua where he was, / these dooinges framed thus. 
The towne of luliets byrth / was wholy busied 
About her obsequies, to see / theyr darlyng buried. 
Now is the parentes m3rrth / quite chaunged into mone, 

2508 And now to sorow is retomde / the ioy of euery one 5 



76 



The Tragicall history 



And now the wedding weedes / for mourning weedes they chaunge. 
And Hymene into a D3rrge ; / alas ! it seemeth straunge : 
In steade of manage glooes, / now fimerall gloues they haue, 

2512 And whom they shouJd see maried, / they follow to the graue. 

The feast that should haue been / of pleasure and of ioy, 

Hath euery dish and cup fild full / of sorow and annoye. 

Now throughout Italy / this common vse they haue, 

2516 That all the best of euery stocke / are earthed in one graue; 
For euery houshold, if / it be of any fame 3 
Doth bylde a tombe, or digge a vault, / that beares the housholdes 

name; 
Wherein (if any of / that kindred hap to dye) 

2520 They are bestowde ; els in the same / no other corps may lye. 

The Capilets her corps / in such a one dyd lay, [^*. 7«1 

Where Tybalt slayne of Romeus / was layde the other day. 
An other vse there is, / that whosoeuer dyes, 

2524 Borne to their church with open face / vpon the beeie he lyes. 
In wonted weede attyrde, / not wrapt in winding sheete. 
So, as by chaunce he walked abrode, / our Romeus man dyd meete 
His maisters wyfe ; the sight / with sorow straight dyd wounde 

2528 His honest hart ; with teares he sawe / her lodged vnder ground. 
And, for he had been sent / to Verone for a spye. 
The dojuges of the Capilets / by wisdome to descrye. 
And for he knew her death / dyd tooch his maister most, 

2532 (Alas) too soone, with heauy newes / he hyed away in post 5 
And in his house he found / his maister Romeus, 
Where he, besprent with many teares, / began to speake him thus : 
Syr, vnto you of late / is chaunced so great a harme, 

2536 That sure, except with constancy / you seeke your selfe to arme, 
I feare that strayght you will / brethe out your latter breath. 
And I, most wretched wight, shalbe / thoccasion of your death. 
Know syr, that yesterday, / my lady and your wyfe, 

2540 I wot not by what sodain grefe, / hath made exchaunge of life ; 
And for because on earth / she found nought but vnrest. 
In heauen hath she sought to fynde / a place of quiet rest ; 
And with these weping eyes / my selfe haue scene her layde, 

2544 Within the tombe of Capilets : / and here withall he stayde. . 



of Romeus and luliet. 



77 



This soda3me message sounde, / sent forth with sighes and teares^ 
Our Romeus receaued too soone / with open listening eares ; 
And therby hath sonke in / such sorow in his hart^ 

2548 That loe, his sprite annoyed sore / with torment and with smarts 
Was like to breake out of / his prison house perforce. 
And that he might flye after hers, / would leaue the massy cor^e : 
But earnest loue that will / not fayle him till his ende, 

2552 This fond and sodain fantasy / into his head dyd sende : 
That if nere vnto her / he offred up his breath. 
That then an hundred thousand parts / more glorious were his death : 
Eke should his painfull hart / a great deale more be eased, 

2556 And more also (he vainely thought) / his lady better pleased. 

Wherfore when he his face / hath washt with water cleene, [F^ 7«1 
Lest that the staynes of dryed teares / might on his cheekes be seene. 
And so his sorow should / of euery one be spyde, 

2 j6o Which he with all his care dyd seeke / from euery one to hyde. 
Straight, wery of the house, / he walketh forth abrode : 
His seruant, at the maisters best, / in chamber styll abode 5 
And then firo streate to streate / he wandreth vp and downe 

2564 To see if he in any place / may fynde, in all the towne, 
A salue meete for his sore, / an oyle fitte for his wounde 3 
And seeking long (alac too soone) / the thing he sought, he founde. 
An Apothecary sate / vnbusied at his doore, 

2568 Whom by his heauy countenaunce / he gessed to be poore. 
And in his shop he saw / his boxes were but fewe. 
And in his window (of his wares) / there was so small a shew; 
Wherfore our Romeus / assuredly hath thought, 

2572 What by no frendship could be got, / with money should be bought j 
For nedy lacke is lyke / the poore man to compell 
To sell that which the cities lawe / forbiddeth him to sell. 
Then by the hand he drew / the nedy man apart, 

2576 And with the sight of glittring gold / inflamed hath his hart : 
Take fiftie crownes of gold / (quoth he) I geue them thee. 
So that, before I part from hence, / thou straight deliuer me 
Somme poyson strong, that may / in lesse then halfe an howre 

2 j8o Kill him whose wretched hap shalbe / the potion to deuowre. 
The wretch by couetise / is wonne, and doth assent 



Oj-^' 






78 The Tragicall history. 

To sell the thing, whose sale ere long, / too late, he doth repent. 
In hast he pojson sought, / and closely he it bounde, 

2584 And then b^^ with whispering voyce / thns in his eare to rounde : 
Fayre syr (quoth he) be sure / thb is the speeding gere, 
And more there is then you shall nede / for halfe of that is there 
"Will seme, I vnder take^ / in lesse then half an howre 

25S8 To kill the strongest man aliue 3 / such is the poysons power. 
Then Romeus, somwhat easd / of one part of his care^ 
Within his bosome putteth vp / his dere vnthrifty ware. 
Retoming home agayne, / he sent his man away, 

259a To Verone towne, and chargeth him / that he, without delay, 

Prouyde both instruments / to open wyde the toombe, [Fa. 73] 

And lightes to shew him luliet; / and stay (till he shall comme) 
Nere to the place whereas / his louing wyfe doth rest, 

2596 And chargeth him not to bewray / the dolours of his brest. 
Peter, these heard, his leaue / doth of his maister take ; 
Betyme he commes to towne, such hast / the paynfull man did make : 
And then with busy care / he seeketh to fulfill, 

2600 But doth d3rsclose vnto no wight / his wofuU maisters will. 
Would Grod, be had herein / broken his maisters best ! 
Would God, that to the fiyer he had / dysclosed all hjrs brest ! 
But Romeus the whyle / with many a dedly thought 

2604 Prouoked much, hath caused ynke / and paper to be brought. 
And in few lynes he dyd / of all his loue dyscoorse. 
How by the fiyers helpe, and by / the knowledge of the noorse. 
The wedlocke knot was knyt, / and by what meane that night 

2608 And many moe he dyd enioy / his happy hartes delight 5 

Where he the poyson bought, / and how his lyfe should ende 5 
And so his wailefuU tragedy / the wretched man hath pend. 
The letters closd and seald, / directed to his syre, 

t6i2' He locketh in his purse, and then / a post hors doth he byre. 
When he approched nere, / he warely lighted downe, 
Afld euen with the shade of night / he entred Verone towne j 
Where he hath found his man, / wayting when he should conmie, 

%6i0 With lanteme, and with instruments / to open luliets toonune. 
Hdpe Peter, helpe, quod he, / helpe to remoue the stone, 
And rtraight when I am gone fro thee, / my Juliet to bemone. 



of Rameus and Juliet. 79 

See that thou get thee hence^ / and on the payne of death 
2620 I charge thee that thou comrae not nere / whyle I abyde beneath, 

Ne seeke thou not to let / thy masters enterprise. 

Which he hath fully purposed / to doe, in any wise. 

Take there a letter, which, / as soone as he shall lyse, 
2624 Present it in the morning to / my louing fathers eyes ; 

Which vnto him perhaps / farre pleasanter shall seeme, 

Than eyther I do nxynd to say, / or thy grose head can deeme. 
Now Peter, that knew not / the purpose of his hart, 
2628 Obediently a little way / withdrew himselfe apart ; 

And then our Romeus / (the vault stone set vpright) I^a 74] 

Descended downe, and in his hand / he bare the candle light. 

And then with piteous eye / the body of his wyfe 
2632 He gan beholde, who surely was / the organ of his lyfe ; 

For whom vnhappy now / he is, but erst was blyst j 

He watred her with teares, and then / a hundred times her kyst; 

And in his folded armes / full straightly he her plight, 
2636 But no way could his greedy eyes / be filled with her sight : 

His fearfull handes he layd / vpon her stomacke colde. 

And them on diners parts besyde / the wofiill wight did hold. 

But when he could not fynd / the signes of lyfe he sought, 
2640 Out of his cursed box he drewe / the po3rson that he bought ; 

Wherof he gredely / deuowrde the greater part. 

And then he cryde, with dedly sigh / fetcht from his mourning hart : 

Oh luliet, of whom / the world vnwoorthy was, 
2644 From which, for worldes vnworthines / thy worthy gost dyd 
passe, 

AVhat death more pleasant could / my hart wish to abyde 

Then that which here it suffreth now, / so nere thy frendly syde ? 

Or els so glorious tombe / how could my youth haue craned, 
2648 As in one selfe same vaulte with thee / haply to be ingraued ? 

What Epitaph more worth, / or halfe so excellent. 

To consecrate my memorye, / could any man inuente. 

As this our mutuell and / our piteous sacrifice 
2652 Of lyfe, set light for loue ? — ^but while / he talketh in this wise. 

And thought as yet a while / his dolors to enforce. 

His tender hart began to fajmt, / prest with the venoms force i 



' I 

80 The Tragicall history. 

Wludi little and little gan / to ouercomme hys hart, 
2656 And whilst his hasy eyne he threwe / about to euery part. 

He saw, hard by the corce / of sleping luliet. 

Bold Tjbalts carkas dead, which was / not all consumed yet. 

To whom (as hauing life) / in thb sort speaketh he : 
2660 Ah coBin dere, Tybalt, whereso / thy restles sprite now be. 

With stretched handes to thee / for mercy now I crye. 

For that before thy kindly howre / I forced thee to dye. 

Bat if with quenched lyfe / not quenched be thine yre, 
S664 But with reoengeing lust as yet / thy hart be set on fyre. 

What more amendes, or cruel! / wreke desjrrest thou £A. 75] 

To tee on me, then this whidi here / is shewd forth to thee now ? 

Who reft by force of armes / from thee thy lining breath, 
266^ The same with his owne hand (thou seest) / doth poyson himselfe to 
death. 

And for be caused thee / in tombe too soone to lye. 

Too soone also, yonger then thou, / himselfe he layeth by. 

TbeK said, when he gan feele / the poysons force prenayle, 
2&J2 And little and little mastred l}'fe / for aye beganne to fayle, 

JLneeiing Tpon his knees, / he said with voyce full lowe, — 

Lord Christ, that so to raunsome me / descendedst long agoe 

Out c^ thy fathers bosome, / and in the virgins wombe 
jiSj^ Didtf pot on fleshe. Oh let my pbint / out of thb hollow toombe. 

Pierce thnx^ the ayre, and graunt / my sute may ^noor finde^ 

Tak^ piry 00 my sinnefull and / my poore afflicted mynde ! 

fnr wed enoagh I know, / this body b but clay, 
^^^9$ %rm^sx bat a masne of sinne, to firayle, / and subiect to^decaj. 

Then, ^tmrntd with extreme greefe / he threw with so great force 

HtB ryatrpnmed parts rpon / hb ladies wayled corps, 

Thar fuvor bis wekened hart, / weakened with tormentes past, 
i^^ VtiohUf^ r/> ^dt thb pang, / the sharpest and the lait, 

ft^ttstyTMri fpite deprioed / of sense and kindly strength, 

Aiui n^ riw( I^-Ag rmpnsood soc^ / hath freedome woone at lei^gtli. 

Ai\ ^mM (ifouhr too soone, / too soone was thb denorce, 
^^^^mur. ^*wf}JtiSi Rocncos heauenly sprite, / and hb fayre esdlf 

^f$#^ Hr^ That knew what time / the powder had been takci^ 



of Romeus and luliet. 



8i 



Knew eke the very instant when / the sleper should awaken ; 
But wondring that he could / no kind of aunswer heare, 

26y2 Of letters which to Romeus / his fellow fiyer did beare. 
Out of sainct Frauncis church / hymselfe alone djd fare. 
And for the opening of the tombe / meete instrumentes he bare. 
Approching nigh the place, / and seeing there the lyght, 

2696 Great horror felt he in his hart, / by straunge and sodaine sight; 
Tyll Peter, (Romeus man), / his coward hart made bolde. 
When of his masters being there / the certain newes he tolde : 
There hath he been (quoth he) / this halfe howre at the least, 

2700 And in this time, I dare well say, / his plaint hath still increast. 

Then both they entred in, / where they (alas) dyd fynde iFc. 76] 

The bretheles corps of Romeus, / forsaken of the mynde ; 
Where they haue made such mone, / as they may best conceue, 

2704 That haue with perfect frendship loued, / whose frend feerce death 
dyd reue. 
But whilst with piteous playnt / they Romeus fate bewepe. 
An howre too late fayre luliet / awaked out of slepe 3 
And much amasde to see / in tombe so great a light, 

2708 She wist not if she saw a dreame, / or sprite that walkd by night. 
But cumming to her selfe / she knew them, and said thus : 
What, fryer Lawrence, is it you ? / where b my Romeus ? 
And then the auncient frier, / that greatly stoode in feare 

2712 Lest if they lingred ouer long / they should be taken theare. 
In few plaine woordes the whole / that was betyde, he tolde. 
And with his fingar shewd his corps / out stretched, stiife, and colde; 
And then perswaded her / with pacience to abyde 

2716 This sodain great mischaunce, and sayth, / that he will soone prouyde 
In somme religious house / for her a quiet place. 
Where she may spend the rest of lyfe, / and where in time percase 
She may with wisdomes meane / measure her mourning brest, 

2720 And vnto her tormented soule / call backe exiled rest. 
But loe, as soone as she / had cast her ruthfull eye 
On Romeus face, that pale and wan / fast by her side dyd lye. 
Straight way she dyd vnstop / the conduites of her teares, 

2724 And out they gushe j — with cruell hand / she tare her golden heares. 
But when she neither could / her swelling sorow swage. 



BOMBUS. 



6 



■\ ■» 



Th£ Tr^fircail mtorrf. 



Ne ''W zee 'ssbsbt r.arr jinme :er t W kftirs mnniis rz^. 
raine f?ix ins csttb sue :jcr ^iing Bimiiii^ m xs "arr. 

i7:id Aiiit tncH -vTtn. -Lii licr 'Tcc jjw. ::nnHi5rfi 'ne ied .zrimi Ivd embrioe, 
/li r' ui uyy "VTd 9iszxE9. vici tocbw viiIl fo r u c md ^i^v payne, 
i^ha 'vouid zmL .iiie ;. .ma. liim .uAuiii from icacii od Irce jgTyue : 
^ nousamt "ziear -^oe ^JK :ix» monai. js ooid b icone. 

>-...• .\ixa :: "umssx. is m T u e js -iir. ^ifn .sin -sae tcra 13 nxone : 

* H" ui :ae •*we«c leicnte^ -aat "« n. lil .irr 'ttc I nsimd, 
IHa >UKa ^'■onHi ttck vrtum 'or aarr -cpiac 
i7:tO I"?i*t :i ai» Tiite J23a ix -ill* :3ne. 'irr dmrdnmrde tfaoa hast 

3ei>«i.\t. ' ae irmca^ «. i or, or 7«artect oam^ noaice ? :/*. 77I 

Vila i:\xssh ^r rtcditts- -i :ne q .nue 'irr ttc; mii air nrv sake? - 
£uc4i .1 iKf iowmnc t nr •uutn. vnea -"mo 'iiee 

:;^o t'tjv vie riwa .trurc i> y nc tiuh: uio pieasant lughc to be, 
'. k>%» vXKiid :it> -tntuer :vnr> vrjistana ".ne znejl li^tit 
v.)t rut KHi> je»iU» -r^L voots o ."ntr :ae HDDuroc with his sight ? 
:W^ ovvuvl 'ay ouiir ' vuttt isrwf vTtn Trilm^ iiart 

> >^ . -11 m> Mj LviVfciv* awx'.^d *u«r :o .iweil} Trnere oow thoaart? 
XVtHi^" >^ve«ml Aiitunc .man ippovntcfi infe :o be 
I'hv vMiiUv '-A^ue '.»i\;Tt«uy vuwrtntf^ vawurtny sure otdkBt^ 

i H^ "^y ^^*^'»»*«^ M^4o^«rx iouoitiu wftc, iipiTTt*? ~JM» to renewe? 
\\ r^icii Vmi Ihj vlih; auu eke nr rnuxai 'otxj^ jAmds 
^ivuiu Movw u C4i^»a uiue 4iiciic2ieu ^uice, and vnder tbote bane 



uvkIc -' 



> »^A l(» tu»d 'u> jKUiKiud :>d»^vus^ siiue, I japc tixe dung I sought; 
Vud A* uv uvHicui iwiiiK' he ratail karte [ jroumie, 
l^i ^.4uv 'i» Hv >«^ it^^'jx, ^ >*r^ ^ vTueil vifidlr wotmde. 
VU tiK»u* '"^^ !0»»uuait? Olid tiO!>c vuiwppv tumbe! 

v; ,♦> b^H liKsi dUt X^v, i»tHU J^e lu j^e. wuue* in time to comme 
\,h tiv uK"^ iN-i'tN.* t«*«.< bet>*ixt 4 jniyre of louer% 
t^u v^vtv Uw i»K>a vittofCuudie 4ud tbrtunate of othets" 
^v\vai»v itK^ laiivf >*^b, revenue the latter pang, 

♦AV VH V<^ »»K*l v^^U vM crueU daue* / that wnith and death ay wrang. 



of Romeus and luliet, 83 

And when our luliet would / continue still her mone. 
The fryer and the seruant fled, / and left her there alone j 
For they a sodayne noyse / fast by the place did lieare, 

2764 And lest they might be taken there, / greatly they stoode in feare. 
When luliet saw her selfe / left in the vaulte alone. 
That freely she might worke her will, / for let or stay was none 
Then once for all she tooke / the cause of all her harmes, 

2768 The body dead of Romeus, / and claspd it in her armesj 
Then she with earnest kisse / sufficiently did proue. 
That more then by the feare of death, / she was attaint by loue ; 
And then past deadly feare, / for lyfe ne had she care, 

2772 With hasty hand she did draw out / the dagger that he ware. 

O welcome death (quoth she) / end of vnhappines, [Fo, 783 

That also art beginning of / assured happines, 

Feare not to darte me nowe, / thy stripe no longer stay, 

2776 Prolong no longer now my lyfe, / I hate this long delaye^ 
For straight my parting sprite, / out of this carkas fled. 
At ease shall finde my Romeus sprite / emong so many ded. 

« 

And thou my louing lord, / Romeus my trusty feer, 

2780 If knowledge yet doe rest in thee, / if thou these woordes dost beer, 
Receue thou her, whom thou / didst loue so lawfully. 
That causd (alas) thy violent death, / although vnwillingly j 
And therfore willingly / offers to thee her gost, 

2784 To thend that no wight els but thou / might haue iust cause to boste 
Thinioying of my loue, / which ay I haue reserued 
Free from the rest, bound vnto thee, / that hast it well deserued : 
That so our parted sprites / from light that we see here, 

2788 In place of endlesse light and blisse, / may euer liue yfere. 

These said, her ruthlesse hand / through gy rt her valiant hart : 
Ah, Ladies, helpp with teares to wayle / the ladies dedly smart ! 
She grones, she stretcheth out / her limmes, she shuttes her eyes, 

2792 And from her corps the sprite doth flyej / what should I say? she 
dyes. 
The watchemen of the towne / the whilst are passed by. 
And through the gates the candel light / within the tombe they spye j 
Wherby they did suppose / inchaunters to be comme, 

2 /06 I'hat with prepared instrumentes / had opend wide the tombe. 



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are 



of Romeus and luliet, 85 

For that he nere the tombe / was found at howres vnfitte, 

2832 And had with hym those yron tooles / for such a purpose fitte. 
The frier was of liuely / sprite and free of speche. 
The ludges woordes appald him not, / ne were his wittes to seeche. 
But with aduised heed / a while fyrst did he stay, 

2836 And then with bold assured voyce / aloude thus gan he say : 
My lordes, there is not one / emong you, set togyther. 
So that (affection set aside) / by wisdome he consider 
My former passed lyfe, / and this ray extreme age, 

2840 And eke this hcauy sight, the wreke / of frantike Fortunes rage. 
But that, amased much, / doth wonder at this chaunge. 
So great, so sodainly befalne, / vnlooked for, and straunge. 
For I, that in the space / of Ix. yeres and tenne, 

2844 Since first I did begin, to soone, / to leade my lyfe with men. 

And with the worldes vaine thinges, / my selfe I did acquaint, {Fa. 80] 
Was neuer yet, in open place, / at any time attaynt 
With any cryme, in waight / as heauy as a rushe, 

2848 Ne is there any stander by / can make me g>'lty blushe; 
(Although before the face / of God, I doe confesse 
My selfe to be the sinfulst wretch / of all this mighty presse.) 
When readiest I am / and likeliest to make 

2852 My great accompt, which no man els / for me shall vndertakej 
When wormes, the earth, and death, / doe cyte me euery howre, 
Tappeare before the iudgement seate / of euerlasting powre. 
And falling ripe, I steppe / vpon my graues brinke, 

2856 Euen then, am I, raosi wretched wight, / (as eche of you doth thinke,) 
Through my most ha)mous deede, / with hedlong sway throwne downe. 
In greatest daunger of my lyfe, / and domage of renowne. 
The spring, whence in your head / this new conceite doth ryse, 

2860 And in your hart increaseth still / your vayne and wrong surmise : 
May be the hugenes of / these teares of myne, (percase,) 
That so aboundantly downe fall / by eyther syde my fece 5 
As though the memory / in scriptures were not kept 

2864 That Christ our sauiour himselfe / for ruth and pittie wept j 
And more, whoso will reade, / ywritten shall he fynde. 
That teares are as true messengers / of mans vngyltie mynde. 
Or els, (a liker proofe) / that I am in the cryme. 



86 The Tragicall history. 

a868 You saj these present jrons are, / and the suspected tyme j 
As though all howres alike / had not been made aboue ! 
Did Christ not say, the day had twelue r / whereby he sought to proue. 
That no respect of howres / ought iustly to be had, 

2872 But at alJ times men haue the choyce / of dooing good or bad ; 
£uen 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, 

2876 As now I deeme, I neede not seeke / to make ye vnderstande 
To what vse yron first / was made, when it began j 
How of it selfe it helpeth not, / ne yet can helpe a man. 
The thing that hurteth is / the malice of his will, 

2880 That such indifferent thinges is wont / to \'5e and order yll 

Thus much I thought to say, / to cause you so to know {Fo. 81] 

That neither these my piteous teares, / though nere so fast they flowe, 
Ne yet these yron tooles, / nor the saspected time, 

2884 Can iustly proue the murther donne, / or damne me of the o^-^me : 
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 g}'lt deserue,) 

2888 For an appeacher, witnesse, and / a hangman, eke should seme ; 

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, 

2892 That euery day and howre do loke / my ioumey hence to take, 
My conscience inwardly / should more torment me thrive. 
Then all the outward deadly payne / that all you could deuyse. 
But (God I prayse) I feele / no worme that gnaweth me, 

2896 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, 

2900 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 curele&se sore, 
I sweare by yonder heauens, / whither I hope to clym, 

2904 And for a witness of my woordes / my hart attesteth him. 



of Romeus and luliet, 87 

Whose mighty hand doth welde / them in their vyoleut sway. 
And on the rolling stormy seas / the heauy earth doth stay : 
That I will make a short / and eke a true dyscourse 

2908 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, 

29 1 2 With strong and patient hart dyd yelde / themselfe to cruell death : 
Such was the mutuall loue / wherin they burned both. 
And of their promyst frendshippes fayth / so stedy was the troth. 
And then the auncient frier / began to make dyscourse, 

2916 £uen from the first, of Romeus / and Juliets amours; 

How first by sodayn sight / the one the other chose, [Fo. Ss] 

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

lose 5 
And how, within a while, / with hotter loue opprest, 

2920 Vnder confessions cloke, to him / them selfe they haue adrest. 
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 lytes of church to geue, 

2924 They shalbe forst by earnest loue / in sinnefull state to Hue : 
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 

2928 For lyke they were of noblenesse, / age, riches, and degree j 
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, 

2932 In secret shrift he wedded them -, / and they the selfe same night 
Made vp the manage / in house of Capelet, 
As well doth know (if she be askt) / the nurce-of luliet. 
He told how Romeus fled / for reuing Tybalts lyfe, 

2936 And how, the whilst, Paris the £arle / was offred to hys wyfej 
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, 

2940 And how she sware, her hand / and blody knife should wound 



88 Tlie Tragicall history. 

Her harmeles hart, except / ihat he some meane dyd fynJe 

To dysappoynt the £ar]es attempt } / and spotles saue her mynde. 

Wherfore, he doth conclude, / (although that long before) 

2944 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 

2948 His closed conscience he had / opened and set at large j 
And rather did he choose / to sulier for one tynie 
His soule to be spotted somdeale / with small and easy ciyme. 
Then that the lady should, / (wery of liuyng breath,) 

2952 Murther her selfe, and daunger much / her seely soule by death : 

Wherfore his auncient artes / agayne he puttes in vre, [Fc. 83] 

A certaine powder gaue he her, / that made her slepe so sure. 
That they her held for dead j / and how that frier lohn 

2956 Witli letters sent to Roraeus / to Mantua is gone j 

Of whom he knoweth not / as yet, what is becomme j 

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

He thinkes with poyson strong, / for care the yong man sterued, 

2960 Supposing luliet dead j and how / that luliet hath earned. 
With Romeus dagger drawne / her hart, and yelded breath, 
Desyrous to accompany / her louer after death j 
And how they could not saue / her, so they were afeard, 

2964 And hidde them selfe, dreding the noyse / of watchmen, that they 
heard. 
And for the proofe of thys / his tale, he doth desyer 
The ludge to send forthwith / to Mantua for the fryer. 
To leame his cause of stay, / and eke to reade his letter ^ 

2968 And, more beside, to thend that they / might iudge his cause the better. 
He prayeth them depose / the nurce of luliet. 
And Romeus man, whom at vnwares / besyde the tombe he met. 
Then Peter, not so much / as erst he was, dysmayd : 

2972 My lordes, (quoth he) too true is all / that fryer Laurence sayd. 
And when my maister went / into my mystres graue. 
Thi« letter that I offer you, / vnto me then he gaue. 
Which he himselfe dyd write, / as I do vnderstand, 

297<5 And cliargcd me to offer them / vnto his fathers hand. 



of Romeus and luliet. 



89 



The opened packet doth / coiUeyne in it the same 

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

That had at his request / the dedly poyson sold, 
2980 The price of it, and why he bought, / his letters playne 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, 
2984 That in the prease there was not one / that stoode at all in doute. 
The wper sort, to councell / called by Escalus, 

Haue geuen aduyse, and Escalus / sagely decreeth thus : 

llie nurse of luliet / is bauisht in her age, 
2988 Because that from the parentes she / dyd hyde the manage. 

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

Where now by her concealing it / a mischeefe great is growne j **' * 

And Peter, for he dyd / obey his masters hest, 
2992 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 ? 
2gg6 Of fryer Lawrence thus araynde, / that good barefooted fiyre ? 

Because that many times / he woorthely did serue 

The commen welth, and in his lyfe / was neuer found to swerue. 

He was discharged quyte, / and no marke of defame 
3000 I^id seeme to blot or touch at all / the honor of his name. 

But of him selfe he went / into an Hermitage, 

Two myles from Veron towne, where he / in prayers past forth his age j 

Tyll that from earth to heauen / his heauenly sprite dyd flye : 
3004 Fyue yeres he lined an Hermite and / an Hermite dyd he dye. 

The straungenes 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 
3008 Was emptied quite ', and they, whose wrath / no wisdom could asswage. 

Nor threatning of the prince, / ne myud of murthers donne. 

At length, (so mighty loue it would) / by pitye they are wonne. 
And lest that length of time / might from our myndes remoue 
3 1 12 The memory of so perfect, soimd / and so approued loue. 

The bodies dead, remoued / from vaulte where they did dye. 



90 The Tragicall history of Romeus and luUei, 

In stately tombe, on pillers great / of marble^ rajrse they hye. 
On euery syde aboue / were set, and eke beneath, 

3016 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 monumentes / that in Verona been, 
There is no monument / more worthy of the sight, 

3020 Then is the tombe of luHet / 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. 



V 



LIST OF VARIOUS READINGS 

GATRBRID PROlI THE ORIGINAL EDITION, 1 562, AND FROM MAIX)NE*S, 

COLLIKR*S» AND 1IALLIWELL*S REPRINTS. 



116. baoMhl bootesfM^ C, H. 

118. XTOoiter] jzwrf/^ original, C, H. 

174. mauger\ tnaugre M, C, H. 

267. tender hand\ slender hand M, C, H. 

269. hath'\ had M, C, H. 

305. 5d\ to M, C, H. 

316. the 07i/ne] their or his cwne Ed. conj. 

374. thattempted] that tempted M, C, H. 

398. befylde'] dcfylde M. 

416. my th&ught] my thoughts M, C, H. metheugkt £d. conj. 

419. talkt] Ed. talke original, M, C, H. 

460. reueth] drrveth M. 

iouers"] hues original, C, H. 

463. doth'\ both original. 

466. bowre] howre originaL 

476. Ay^ In M. 

557. betintes] bestimes M, C, H. - 

666. €hat'\ thai original. 

777. Tvii/we] weivil/C, H. 

856. a//] om. C, H. 

883. hyde] tyde Ed. conj. 

919. Thus] This original, C, H. 

985. gaspe] graspe M, C, H. 
1003. and] om. M. 
lOio. hath] had M, C, H. 
mo. abode] oMn^ original, Q H. 
II 88. begoone] beganne M. 
1 192. me] my original. 
1205. sits] Jits C, H. 
1258. louer] louer^ huer original. 
1331. he[ne] had] Ed. Ar Aa/ original, M, C, H. 

this time] his time M. 
1339. lasten] hasten M, C, H. 
1344. Vnconstant] Fineonstant origiBilf Q H. 
1396. after] afther original, C, H. 
1432. oughtst] oughtest originaL oughest C, H. 
1452. mast] mayst M. 
1561. That] r^ii?/ original, C, H. 
1574. doomes] dameVL^ 



MMta 



91 List of Tarious Readings, 

1592. tjrraHs] tyrant C, H. 

1657. bffU] Arm/ original, C, II. 

lari\ Urve M, C, H. 

1684. nd\ nauj Ed. conj. 

1693. his\ kip originaL 

1 769. heares\ hearts original. 

1782. treuKe\ trrwsfC, H. trewe onpnaL 

1799. had] hath M, C, H. 

185a frayUe5se\ skillase'^. 
1893. fnaters] features M. 

194$. wrotk\ UHfrth original. 

1954. so tAey] they so C, H. 

«957- thy\ tht M, C, H. 

205a had] hath M, C, H. 

2059. she] M^ original 
2101. beastes] bcaste original 

2157. dydh] lyrih Ed. conj. 

2159. Thy] 7:i^M, C, H. 

2 161. thrm sdfe] himsdfe original, C, H. 

2239. in to] into M. in so Ed. conj. 

227a. thfir] thcyr M. theie original. 

2313. approched] aproched ^. opproched ongtnzl. 

2314. t^mperd] tampered M. tempted original, C, H. 

2324. she] the original, M. . 4 

2339. Shi] So xM, C. H. 

2351. net I] I not M, C, H. 

2390. tender] slender M, C, H. 

245a to] om. original. 

2629. vprighi] mp upright M, C, H. 

2736. thy churehyarde] this churchyarde originaL 
chose,] chose f original, C, H. 

281 1, might you] you might M, C, H. 

286a still] HU C, H. 

2921. tkey] thyQ, H. 

2926. thetn] rhem M, C. 

2959. /or] 9r Ed. conj. 

2971. as erst] as erst as originaL erst as C, II. 

3008. Was] Has M, C, H. [Note. This coirectioa obtained from Mr II. 
Huth's copy of the ed. 1562. The copy in the Bodleian Library from which 
MaJone (followed by Collier and Halliwell) printed his edition, is de£u:ed in this 
place, the / only of the word remaining distinct.] 



93 



" The goodly Hyftory of the true and conftant 

Loue betweene 



RHOMEO AND JULIETTJr 



Translated by William Painter from the French paraphrase, 

by Pierre Boaistuau, of Bandel]o*s version of 

" Romeo e Giulietta." 



" »♦ 



(Reprinted from the second edition [n. d.] of the second 

volume of Painter's '* Palace of Pleasure/' 

collated with the first edition, 1567, and with the Reprints by 

Haslewood, Collier^ and Halliwell.) 



94 



NOTE. 

The passages from Boaistuau quoted immediately below Painter's 
text are numbered consecutively to the end. The passages in the 
text with which they are to be compared are comprised between a 
corresponding number and a star. When no star follows the number 
in the text it is to be understood that only the single word imme- 
diately following the number is referred to. After each quotation 
from Boaistuau, I have, when possible, noted within brackets the 
corresponding lines of Brooke's Poem. 

The collations oF the several editions at the foot of each page are 
numbered in accordance with the numbers of the lines on that page. 
Only those editions are noted which differ from the text. Has,, C, 
Hal. indicate respectively the editions by Haslewood, Collier, and 
Halhwell. 

P. A. D. 



9S 



Rhomeo and lulietta. 

IT The goodly Hyjlory of the true, and conflant Loue betweene Rhomeo 
and luuETTT, the one of whom died of Poyfon, and the other of 
forrow, and heuin^e : wherein be compryfed many aduentures 
4 of Loue y and other deuifes touchinge the fame. 

The XXF, NouelL 

I AM fure that they which meafure the Greatnefle of Goddes 
workes accordinge to the capacity of their Rude, and fimple under- 
8 ftandinge, wyll not lightly adhibite credite unto thys Hiftor}% fo wel 
for the variety of flraunge Accidents which be therein defcribed, as 
for the nouelty of fo rare, and perfed amity .^ ^ But they that haue 
red Plinie, Valerius Maximus, Plutarche, and divers other Writers, do 

12 finde, that in olde time a great number of Men and Women haue 
died, fome of e&ceffiue ioy, fome of ouermutch forrow, and fome of 
other padions : and amongs the fame, Loue is not the lead,* whych 
when it feazeth uppon any kynde and gentle Subjed, and findeth no 

1 6 refiflaunce to feme for a rampart to ftay the violence of his courfe, by 
little, & little vndermineth, melteth and confumeth the vertues ' of 
naturall powers, in futch wyfe as the fpyrite yealdinge to the burden, 
abandoneth the place of lyfe : Which is verified by the pitiful!, and 

2o infortunate death of two Louers that furrendered their laft Breath in 
one Toumbe at Fisrona a Citty of Italy, wherein repofe yet to thys 
day (with great maruell) the Bones, and remnauntes of their late 

' Painter here omits the following passage of Boaistuau : — ''Si est-ce que ie 
puis acertener vne fois pour toutes que ie ne insereray aucune histoire fiibuleuse 
en tout cest oeuvre, de laquel ie ne face foy par annales et croniques, ou par 
comune approbation de ceux qui I'ont veu, ou par autoritez de quelque fameux 
historiograph, Italien ou Latin. '' 

' "Ceux qui ont leu en Pline, Valere, Plutarque & plusieurs autres qu« 
anciennement il s'est retrouue grand nombre d'hommes & de femmes qui sont 
morts par vne trop excessive ioye, ne feront doute qu*on ne puisse mourir par les 
furieuses flammes du trop ardent amour." 

la tum^/ty] nouelty &* straungnesse ed. I. 



■> 



Rhomeo and lulieila. 97 

diuers and fundry waies to reconcile thofe two houfcs but all in 
vayne : for their hatred had taken fatch roote, as the fame could not 
be moderated by any wyfe counfell or good aduice : betweene whom 
4 no other thing could be accorded, but geving ouer Armour and 
Weapon for the time, attending fome other fealbn more conuenient, 
and with better leyfure to appeafe the reft. In the time that thefe 
tliinges were adoing, one of the family of Montefches called Rhomeo, 
8 of the age of .20. or .21. yeares, the comlieft and beft conditioned 
Gentleman that was amonges the Veronian youth, fell in love with a 
young Gentlewoman of Verona^ and in few dayes was fo attached 
with hir Beauty, and good behauiour, as he abadoned all other 

12 affaires, & bufines to ferue, & honour hir. And after many Letters,* 
Ambaftades, and prefents, he determined in the ende to fpeake vnto 
hir, and to difclofe hys paflions, ^ which he did without any other 
praftife. But * ftie which was vertuoufly brought vp, knew how to 

16 make him fo good anfwere to cut of his amorous aft'e6tions, as he had 
no luft after that time to returne any more, and Ihewed hir felfe fo 
auftere, and ftiarpe of Speach, as flie vouchfated not with one looke 
to behold him. But how mutch the young Gentleman faw hir whift, 

20 and filent, the more he was inftamed : And after he had continued 
certayne months in that feruice wythout remedy of his griefe, he 
determined in the ende to depart Verona, for proofe if by chaunge ot 
the place he might alter his affedion, faying to himfelfe. "What do 

34 I meane to loue one that is fo vnkinde, and thus doth difdayn me, I 
am all hir owne, & yet ftie flieth from me. I can no lOger line, 
except hir prefence I doe enioy : and ftie hath no contented mynde, 
but when ftie is furtheft fi-om me. I will then from henceforth 

28 Eftraunge my felfe fi*om hir, for it may fo come to pafle by not be- 
holding hir, that thys ftre in me which taketh increafe and nourifti- 
ment by hir fayre Eyes, by little, and little may dy and quench." 
But minding to put in proofe what he thought, at one inftaut heewas 

32 reduced to the contrary, who not knowing whereupon to refolue, 

• " ce qu'il fist sans rien practiquer car " 

8. comliest'\ fairest ed. I. 19. hew mute h^ the more tA. i. 

10. so] om. ed. 2, Has., C, Hal. 23. saying\ and sayd edi. I. 

1 1. Beatity, and] comely and ed. I. 
BHOMBO. 7 



1-J ±sed djc 



: ::t :iu-w»=ra r i* iear. sui nvadc, as not 

zs::L -r^z^ -=t^ -L-JU,^ Hill mmiaitsi br little. 



ir-r*^ -u. :r=-:37:e ^r=2£ir ^r^rsnjx^ iy* oxziismnie, bat 



OB r z^ r .mzaxriDiB if ';9BlJ^S^ ^^ C bonl ell 

3am* "T Tcuae iLzi. Tzr :ae ji»c ibac he bare 

^i.i: ITS- : ^-"TJt :» 3rr 2s£ rr* ^A ir * jxitira* . hbi-vb piertakisr of hjs 

-=-:;*. 11 "lu^-i -ruitrx :i..n: :v ^nc -^^r^rrrc :i» Msaiai .^liqaieciiede 

^ ..»m.rT?u> ^ac^crs r or sa 'm? xia ^ ?inw^m I 3&KiaeU motdi 

- -*ai :n.u ^'ta^ujcsr ^ir :«:sc ~rat jx ~*^nr isc 3 jur.iue ot a tbiDg, 

T-.'Ui »:sv;t :iiU. r«uc rr^ ;is£ .asL^tiiat uni. 2aii2tk»z» -vytiioat re^iede 

,»».J3t:T v ^-t '«^-«-' c^- :i^jtr*Tig. a :2i3f junur. 3j ri^ Deares, or to 

i> *ji-« .xt-^-'wi T^. tiist-rt >t J?te u ikAK TIK aufC cucC3at to pitj". 

:•?- ^'xi-rK-ttf - -T-x' .2ic«t -'T -Sr —ue jr inr HTm-'gac jaxkr, and for 

> t^; XAiiiit AaA% :r.ic rxti «ii tarn :u x "ftine jw:ae man, and 

H u V a v'tit i^ ' Art^ 1' arv- v -i ^ 'T a e » hai s . war ij hrre as I 

,->►£.• ,vu:«;*vfirr -^ -^ -"^s^ :^*«^ -*<? ^siiS^i jrrwcac jcii* eicber the b in 

o> ^A^«i »* •:: vxist -x;!^». -x jifie .acttrtniimfEi -neuKrai jmk aor. Tboa 

u»v vx*^. "v:! .i ^•vXfva- juxi XTTuae. jou siuf? escsSeac in beaotjT 

i »N ,f» £,t,t^ >i%.atj<*-tsajjt ;! t^>- ^T'TT ^awu -art: wsl jcanyrf, and the 

ja<*^ * v'W «^ -i^ xxtrc « >cr»jc :Knz. .rjirtrntrtt. IKisc grref would 

4^ t XV ,v St* j^x^ttf .-^vjc ?ix-J*ar xsa x^er riy laraCKSw to lee the fo 

^r^»^?KN. vi :^-> A^u::$!>ivu Jt V-c*. itscadv jt riac age wberetn thou 

s*v.i;ivt^t *tik?r v» Jut JKut a -Vine Huk Jt :iT Vertoe r Begjn 

V-X"^ t\N« VxK^fO.^^ V *ciL*»oi«'«cce i^-TM? £rror. wbensn thoa haft 

^'v;K*i^»^ .>uc^» A^ i^^ -3ait joiuraitt imuif jt cixaertnre whjdi 

>,> jco^-l J:vt*c 5"^^ *^ «s:»a :iise :» iww tiit nrghte path, 

>ft K>>^^a JWH? Attiv^K^ :t*«e ^:i»fc!^ jr tarir it dx»xi do feele thj 

■v^K^ v^ ;Uv>«< .V .*>•««? ^*f «'^ ^'^sifci? :^ te«e to tome other 

i> X.^w uiM V K".^ >^*»» \bilp«J& jcv-JWTi^ ^J diT wucth.Tnr&, and 

V>KxSvHx^ *.v iv»v x^ :ai< ?^ai» ia a 5^^ *> barrayne whereof 

.V>vi %N»iNrii Kv »u> vW ifcr :*« Jponxieei wtex al the Dames of 






x\ *•'•#- 




^rmmtmm 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 99 

the Cyty fhal aflemble, where thou mayft behold fatch one as fhall 
make the forget thy former Gryefs." Thys younge Grentleman 
attentyuely hearyng all the perfuadyng reafons of hys Fryend, began 
4 fomewhat to moderate that Heate and to acknowledge all the exhort- 
atyons which hee had made to be dire6ted to good purpofe. And 
then determined to put them in proofe, and to be prefent indifferently 
at al the feafts and aifemblies of the City, without bearing affe£tion 
8 more to one Woman than to an other. And continued in thys 
manner of lyfe .ii. or .iii. Monthes, thinking by that meanes to quench 
the fparks of auncient flames. It chaunced the within few dayes 
after, about the feaft of Chryllmafle", when feafts and bankets moft 

12 commonly be ufed,and mafkes accordinge to the cuftome frequented : 
that Anthonie Capellet being the Chief of that Familye, and one of 
the Principall Lords of the City too, made a banket, and for the 
better Solempnization thereof, inuited all the Noble men and dames, 

16 to which Feaft reforted the mofte parte of the youth of Ferona. The 
family of the Capellet^ (as we haue declared in the beginninge of thys 
Hyftory) was at variance with the Montefches, which was the caufe 
that none of that family repaired to that Banket, but onelye the yong 

20 Gentleman Rhomeo, who came in a Maflte after fupper with cer- 
taine other yong Grentlemen. And after they had remained a 
certayne fpace with their Vifards on, at length they did put of the 
fame, and Rhomeo very fhamefaft, withdrew himfelf into a Corner of 

24 the Hall : but by reafon of the light of the Torches which burned 
very bright, he was by and by knowen and loked vpon of the whole 
Company, but fpecially of the Ladies : for befides his Natiue Beauty 
where wyth Nature had adorned him, they maruelled at his audacity 

28 how hee durft prefume to enter fo fecretly into the Houfe of that 
Famyllye which had litle caufe to do him any good. Notwithftand- 
ing, the Capellets dilfembling their mallice, either for the honor of 
the company, or elfe for refpe6t of his Age, did not mifufe him eyther 

6-7. proofe . . . indifferently a/] om. most Principall Lords of the city^ he 
ed 2. made a banket ed. i. 

13-14. that Anthonie, . . banket'\ And 15. thereof^ of the same ed. I. 
bicause that Anthonie Capellet was the 16. to which Feast resorted'^ at what 
chief of that Familye and one of the time ther was ed. i. 

28-29. that Famyllye\ those ed. I. 



loo Rhomeo and lulietta. 

in Worde or Deede. By meanes whereof wyth free liberty he 
behelde and viewed the Ladies at hys Plealure, which hee dyd fo 
well, and wyth grace fo good, as there was none but did very well 
4 lyke the prefence of his perfon. And after hee had particularly giuen 
Judgement vppon the excellency of each one, according to his affec- 
tion, hee fawe one Gentlewoman amonges the refte of furpaffinge 
Beautye who (althoughe hee had never feene hir tofore) pleafed him 
8 aboue the reft, and attributed vnto hir in heart the Chyefeft place for all 
perfedion in Beautye. And feaftyng hir incellantlye with piteous 
lookes, the Loue whych hee bare to his firft Gentlewoman, was ouer- 
comen with this newe fire, that tooke futch noriftiement and vigor in 

12 his hart, as he was not able neuer to quench the fame but by Death 
onely : as you may vnderftande by one of the ftrangeft difcourfes, 
that euer any mortall man deuifed. The yong Rhomeo then felyng 
himfelfe thus tofled wyth thys newe Tempeft, could not tell what 

i6 countenaunce to ufe, but was fo furprifed and chaunged with thefe 
laft flames, as he had almoft forgotten himfelfe, in futch wife as he 
had not audacity to enquyre what fhee was, and wholly bente himielf 
if) feedc hys Eyes with hir fighte, ^® wherewyth hee mo}'ftened • the 

20 fvreete amorous venome, which dyd fo empoyfon him, as hee ended 
hys Dayes with a kinde of moft cruell Death. The Gentlewoman 
that dydde put Rhomeo to futch payne, was called luJUtta, and was 
the Daughter of Capellet, the mayfter of the houfe wher that aflembly 

24 wa«, who as hir Eyes did rolle and wander too and fro, by chaunce 
efpied Hh/jmeo, which vnto hir feemed to be the goodlieft perfonage 
that euer (liee fa we. And Loue (which lay in wayte neuer untill 
tljuat time) affayling the tender heart of that yong Gentlewoman, 

28 touclied hir fo at the quicke, as for any refiftance flic coulde make, 
waj» not able to defende his Forces, and then began to fet at naught 
tlie royaltie* of the feaft, and felt no pleafure in hir heart, but when 
i]ni liad a glimpfe by throwing or receiving fome fight or looke of 
32 Htutnwo, And after they had contented eche others troubled heart 
wiih millions of amorous lookes which oftentimes interchangeably 

*^ ''\yij Icsqucles il humoit " [Painter confoands hummt with kmrnecidiL Sec 
ht*y/Vt, 219— he swalloweth downe]. 

12 fu>i ahU\ abU cd. I. 25- persmagt] CtmOewtan ed. I. 



Rliomeo and lulietta, loi 

encountred and met together, the burning fieames gave fufficient 
teftimony bf loues priuy onfettes. 

Loue hauing made the heartes breache of thole two loners, as 
4 they two fought meanes to fpeake together. Fortune offered them a 
very meete and apt occafion. A certayne Lord of that Troupe and ^ 
Companye tooke lulietta by the Hande ^^ to Daunce,* wherein (hee 
behaued hir felfe fo well, and wyth fo excellent grace, as (hee wanne 
8 that Daye the prife of Honour from all the Damofels of Verona. 
Rhomeo, hav}'nge forefeene the Place wherevnto (hee mynded to 
retire, approched the fame, and fo dyfcretelye vied the matter, as hee 
founde the meanes at hir returne to (it befide hir. lulietta when the 

12 daunce was fini(hed, returned to the very place where Ihe was fet 
before, and was placed betwene Rhomeo and an other Gentleman 
called Mercutio, which was a courtlyke GJentleman, very well be •/ 
loued of all men, and by reafon of his pleafaunt and curteoas 

1 6 behauior was in euery company wel intertayned, Mercutio that was 
of audacity among May dens, as a Lyon is among Lambes, feazed 
incontynently upon the Hande of lulietta, whofe bands wontedly 
were fo cold both in Wynter and Sommer as the Mountayne yce, 

2o although the fires heat did warm the fame. Rhomeo whych fat vppon 
the left fide of lulietta, feynge that Mercutio held hir by the right 
hand, toke hir by the other ^^ that he myght not be deceived of his 
purpofe,* and ftrayning the fame a little, he felt himfelf (o preft wyth 

24 that newe fauor, as he remayned mute, not able to aunfwer. But 
(he perceyvyng by his chaunge of color, that the fault proceded of 
the vehemence of Loue, defyryng ^' to fpeake vnto hym,* turned hir 
felfe towards hym, and wyth tremblyng voyce ioyned with Virginal 

28 fhamefa(lne(re, intermedled with a certayn bafhfulnelTe, fayd to hym : 
" Ble(red be the Houre of your neare approche:" but mynding to 
procede in further taike, loue had fo clofed vp hir mouth, as (he was 
not able to end hir Tale. 

32 Wherunto the yong Gentleman all raui(hed with ioy and contenta- 

" ** pour la faire danser au bal de la torche " [Brooke, 246]. 

" " afin de ne faillir 4 son devoir " 

13 "de Touyr parler " [Brooke, 274, 276]. 

16. euffy company] ail copanies 26. th^ vehtmenc€ of Laue\ very vehe- 
ed. I. niet Louet!^* I. 



loa Rhomeo and luitetta. 

tion, fighing, a(ked hir what was the caufe of that ryght Fortunate 
bleffing. luUetta fomwhat more emboldened, with pytyful loke and 
fmyling countenance, faid vnto him : " Syr d6 not maruell yf I do 
4 blefle your comminge hither, bicaufe (ir Mercutio a good tyine wyth 
frofty hand hath wholly frofen mine, and you of your curtefy have 
warmed the fame agayne." Wherunto immediatly Rhomeo replyed : 
" Madame if the heauens haue ben fo fauorable to employe me to do 
8 you fome agreable feruice, being repaired hither by chance amongs 
other Gentlemen, I efteeme the fame well beflowed, craning no 
greater Benelite for {atiffa6tion of all my contentations receiued in this 
World, than to ferue obey and honor you fo long as my lyfe doth 

12 laft, as experience Ihall yeld more ample proofe when it (liall pleafe 
you to geve further alfaye. Moreouer, if you have receiued any Heat 
by touche of my Hand, you may be well alfured that thofe flames be 
dead in refpe6t of the ly vely Sparkes & violent lire which forteth from 

1 6 your fayre Eyes, which lire hath fo fiercely inflamed all the mod 
fenlible parts of my body, as If 1 be not fuccored by the fauoure of 
your good graces, I do attend the time to be confumed to dull,** 
Scarfe had he made an ende of thofe laft Words but the daunce of 

20 the Torche was at an end. Whereby lulietta which wholly burnt in 
lone, ftraightly clafpyng her Hand wyth his, had no leyfure to make 
other aunfwer, but foftly thus to fay : " My deare firend, I know not 
what other aflured wytnelfe you delire of Lone, but that I let you 

^4 underftand that you be no more your own, that I am yours, beyng 
ready and dyfpofed to obey you fo farre as honour (hal permyt, be- 
feechyng you for the prefent tyme to content your felfe wyth thys aun- 
fwere, vntyll fome other feafon meeter to Communicate more fecretly 

28 of our Affaires.*' Rhomeo feeing himfelfe preffed to part of the Com- 
pany, and for that hee knew not by what meanes he myght fee hir 
agayne that was hys Life and Death, demaunded of one of his Friends 
what fhee was, who made aunfwer that (he was the daughter of 

32 Capellet, the lord of the houfe, and Mayfter of that dayes feaft (who 
wroth beyonde roeaftire that fortune had set him to fo daugerous a 
place, thought it impoffible to bring to end his enterprife begon.) 

II. so lofi^'] as long C, Hal. 20-21. in hue] with lout ed. I. 

18. good graces'^ divine graces ed. I. 28. part of] part with ed. I. 



Rhomeo and luUetta. 103 

lulietta couetous on the other (ide, to know what yong gentlema he 
was which had fo curteoufly intertayned hir that Nyght, and of 
whome fhee felt the new wound in hir heart, called an olde Grentle- 
4 woman of honor which had nurffed hir and brought hir vp, vnto whom 
ihe fayd leaning vpon hir fhoulder : '* Mother, what two yong Gen- 
tlemen be they which firil goe forth with the two Torches before 
them.** Vnto whome the old Gentlewoma told the name of the 
8 Houfes wherof they came. Then ihe alked liir agaiue, what young 
Gentleman that was which holdeth the vifarde in his Hand, wyth the 
Damafke cloke about him : " It is " (quod ihe) " Romeo Montefche, 
the fonne of youre Fathers capytall Enimye and deadly foe to all your 

12 kinne.** But the Mayden at the onely Name of Montefche was alto- 
gyther amazed, defpayrynge for euer to attayne to Huiband hir great 
afie6tyoned fryend Rhomeo^ for the auncyent hatreds betweene thofe 
two Families. NevertheleiTe ihe kuewe fo well how to diiTemble hir 

16 grief and difcontented Minde, as the olde Gentlewoman perceiued 
nothing, who then began to perfuade hir to retire into hir Chamber : 
whom ihe obeyed : and being in bed, thinking to take hir wonted 
refl, a great t^peil of diners thoughtes began to enuiron and trouble 

ao hir Mjmde, in futch wyfe as ihee was not able to clofe hir Eyes, but 
tuminge heere and there, fantaiied diuers things in hir thought, fome- 
times purpofed to cut of the whole attempte of that amorous pra6tife, 
fometimes to continue the fame. Thus was the poore pufcil vexed 

24 with two contraries, the one comforted hir to purfue hir intent, the 
other propofed the immynente Perill wherevnto vndyfcretly ihe head- 
long threwe hir felf. And after ihe had wandred of long time in this 
amorous Laberinth, ihe knew not whereuppon to refolue, but wept 

a8 inceiTantly, and accufed hir felf, faying : " Ah Caitife and rayferable 
Creature, from whence do rife thefe vnaccuilomed Travayles which I 
feele in Mynde, prouokynge mee to loofe ray reile : but infortunate 
Wretch, what doe I know if that yong Gentleman doe lone mee as 

3a hee fayeth. It may be vnder the vaile of fugred woordes he goeth 
about to ileale away mine honore, to be reuenged of my Parentes 
whych haue offended his, and by that meanes to my everlailyng 
reproche to make me the fable of the Ferona people.** 

15. iwo\ to ed. 2. 23. puscU\pucell ed. I, Has., C, HaL 

18. in bed\ in hir bed ed. I. 



104 Rhomeo and lulietta. 

Afterwardes fodainly as (lie condempned that which (he fufpe6ted 
in the beginning, fayd : " Is it pollible that vnder futch beautye 
and rare comelynelTe, dyfloyahye and Treafon may haue theyr Syedge 
4 and Lodgynge ? If it bee trne that the Face is the faythfull Melfanger 
of the Myndes Conceypte, I may bee alfured that hee doeth love mee : 
for I marked fo many chaunged Colours in his Face in time of his 
talke with me, and fawe hym fo tranfported and befides himfelfe, as 
8 I cannot wyflie any other more certayne ^*lucke of Loue,* wherein 
I wyll perfyft immutable to the lafte gafpe of Lyfe, ^*to the intente 
I may have hym to bee my hulband,* for it maye fo come to pafle, 
as this newe aliaunce fhall engender a perpetuall peace and Amity 

12 betweene hys Houfe and mine." Arreftinge then vppon this deter- 
mynation ftyll, as ihe faw Rhomeo pall)'nge before hir Fathers Gate, 
file (hewed hir felf with merry Countenance, and followed him fo 
with loke of Eye, vntill (he had loft his (ight. And continuing this 

1 6 manner of Lyfe for certaine Dayes, Rhomeo not able to content him- 
felf with lookes, daily did behold and marke the (ituation of the 
houfe, and one day amongs others hee efpyed lulietta at hir Chamber 
Window, bouding vpon a narrow Lane, ryght ouer againft which 

2o Chamber ^^he had a Gardein,* which was the caufe that Rhomeo 
fearing difcouery of their loue, began the day time to pa(re no more 
before the Gate, but fo foone as the Night with his browne Mantell 
had couered the Earth, hee walked alone '^ vp and downe that little 

24 ftreat. And after he had bene there many times, mifling the chiefeft 
caufe of his comming, lulietta impacient of hir euill, one night 
repaired to hir window, & perceiued throughe the bryghtnefle of the 
Moone hir Friend Rhomeo vnder hir Window, no lelfe attended for, 

28 than hee hymfelfe was waighting. Then (he fecretly with Teares in 
hir Eyes, & wyth voyce interrupted by (ighes, sayd : " Signior Rhomeo, 
me thinke that you hazarde your perfon to mutch, and comm3rt the 
fame into great Daunger, at thys time of the Nyght to protrude your 

32 felf to the Mercy of them which meane you little good. Who yf 

'* *' augure de son amitie " [Brooke, 423]. 
'* *' moiennant qu'il m'cspouse" [Brooke, 426]. 
" *' y auoit vn iardin " [Brooke, 451]. 
n «« avec ses armes " [Brooke, 458J. 

^ 

21. began] began then in cd. I. 27. vndcr\ hard vnder tA, I. 



Rhomeo and lulietta. 105 

they had take would haue cut you in pieces, and mine honor (which 
I efteme dearer than my Lyfe,) hindred and fufpe£ted for euer." 
" Madame '* aunfwered Rhomeo, " ray Lyfe is in the Hand of God, 
4 who only can difpofe the fame : howbeyt yi any Man had foughte 
menes to beryeue mee of my Lyfe, I fhould (in the prefence of you) 
haue made him knowen what mine ability had ben to defend the 
fame. Notwythilandyng Lyfe is not fo deare, and of futch eftimation 
8 wyth me, but that I coulde vouchfafe to facryfice the fame for your 
fake : and althoughe my myfhappe had bene fo greate, as to bee 
dylpatched in that Place, yet had I no caufe to be forrye therefore, 
excepte it had bene by lofynge the meanes, and way how to make 

12 you vnderilande the good wyll and duety which I beare you. defyrynge 
not to con feme the fame for anye commodytye that I hope to haue 
thereby, nor for anye other refpe6te, but onelye to Loue, Seme, and 
Honor you, fo long as breath fhal remaine in me." So foone as he 

16 had made an end of his talke, loue and pity began to feaze vpon the 
heart of lulietta, & leaning hir head vpon hir hand, hauing hir face 
all befprent wyth teares, fhe faid vnto Rhomeo : " Syr Rhomeo, I pray 
you not to renue that grief agayne : for the onely ^® Memory of futch 

20 inconuenyence, maketh me to counterpoyfe betwene death and Lyfe, 
my heart being fo vnited with yours, as you cannot receyne the leaft 
Injury in this world, wherein I (hall not be fo great a Partaker as 
your felf : befeechyng you for conclufiou, that if you defire your owne 

24 health and mine, to declare vnto me in fewe Wordes what youre 
determynation is to attaine : for if you couet any other fecrete thing 
at my Handes, more than myne Honoure can well all owe, you are 
marueloufly deceiued : but if your defire be godly, and that the 

28 fredlhip which you proteft to beare mee, be founded vppon Vertue, 
and to bee concluded by Mary age, receiuing me for your wyfe and 
lawfull Spoufe, you fhall have futch part in me, as whereof without 
any regard to the obedience and reuerence that I owe to my Parentes, 

32 or to the auncient Enimity of oure Famylyes, I wyll make you the 

*• " apprehension " [Brooke, 522]. 

I . take\ taken you ed. I . nuanes^ the same to forgoe, the way ed. I . 

5. my Lyfe\ my om. ed. I. I9- that grief \ those things ed. I. 

8. wyth me] vnto me td. I. 24. mine] mind ^. i. 

II. losynge . . . way] loosing of 30. %uhereof] ovcv. ed. I. 



io6 Rhomeo and lulietta. 

onely Lord and Mayfier over me, and of all the thrngrs that I 
poflefle, being preft and ready in all poyntes to folow joor com- 
maondement : But if yoor intent be otherwyfe, and thinke to reape 
4 the Fruycte of my Virginity, vnder pretenfe of wanton Amity, you be 
greatly deceiued, and doe pray you to auoide and iuSer me from 
henceforth to lyue in reft amongs myne equals." Rhomeo whych 
looked for none other thyng, holding up his Handes to the Heauens, 
8 wyth incredible ioy and contentation, aunfwered " Madame for fo 
mutch as it hath pleafed you to doe me that honour to accepte me 
for futch a one, I accorde and confent to your requeft, and do ofier 
vnto you the beft part of my heart, which (hall remayn with you for 

12 guage and fure teftimony of my faying, vntill fuch time as god ihall 
give me leaue to make you the entier owner and polTeflbr of the 
fame : And to the intent I may begyn mine enterpryfe, to morrow I 
will to the frier Laurence for counfell in the fame, who befides that 

i6 he is my ghoftly father, is accuftomed to giue me inftrudion in al my 
other fecret alfaires, and fayle not (if you pleafe) to meete me agayne 
in this place at this very hour, to the intent I may giue you to vnder- 
ftaud the deuice betwene him and me." Which {he lyked very 

ao well, and ended their talke for that time. Rhomeo receyuing none 
other fauour at hir hands for that night, but only Wordes. Thys 
Fryer Laurence of whom hereafter wee (hall make more ample 
mention, was an auncient Dodor of Diuinity, of the order of the 

24 Fryers Minors, who befides the happy profeflion which he had made 
in ftudy of holy writ, was very fkilful in Philofophy, and a great 
fearcher of natures Secrets, ^*and exceeding famous in Magike know- 
ledge,* and other hidden & fecret fciences, which nothing diminifhed 

a8 bis reputation, bicaule bee did not abufe the fame. And this Frier 
through his vertue and piety, had fo well won the citizens hearts of 
Ferona, as he was almoft the Confeflbr to them all, and of all men 
generally reuerenced and beloued : And many tymes for his great 

3a prudence was called by the lords of ye Citty, to the hearing of their 
weighty caufes. And amonges other he was greatly fauored by the 

*• ** mesmes r^nommc d*auoir intelligece de la Magie " [Brooke, 570]. 



15. ihf frur"] the om. ed. I. 32-33- hearing . . . causes\ wdghtU 

affaires of the same ed. I. 



Rhomeo and luUetta, 



107 



Lorde of E/cale, that tyme the principall gouernor of Ferona, and of 
all the Family of Montefches, and of the Capellets, and of many other. 
The young Rhomeo (as we haue already declared) from his tender 
4 age, bare a certayne particuler amity to Frier Laurence, & departed to 
him his fecrets, by meanes whereof fo foone as he was gone from 
lulietta, went ftrayght to the Fryers Francifcians, where fro poinct to 
poinct he difcourfed the fucceffe of his loue to that good Father, and 
8 the conclufion of manage betwene him and lulietta, adding vpon the 
ende of talke, that hee woulde rather choofe (liamefull death, than to 
fayle hir of his promife. To whom the good Frier after he had 
debated diners matters, and propofed al the inconueniences of that 

12 fecret manage, exhorted hym to more mature deliberation of the 
fame : notwithflandinge, all the alleged perfuafions were not able to 
reuoke his promyfe. Wherefore the Frier vauquiflied with his stub- 
boruefle, & alfo forecafting in his mynde yt the mariage might be fome 

16 meanes of reconciliation of thofe two houfes, in th'end agreed to his 
requeft, intreating him, yt he myght haue one dayes refpit for leyfure 
to excogitate what was beil to be done. But if Rhomeo for his part 
was careful! to prouide for his affayres, lulietta lykewife did her 

ao indeuour. For feeing that fhee had none about her to whom flie 
might difcouer hir paflions, fhee deuifed to impart the whole to hir 
Nurle which lay in her Chamber, appoyncted to wayte uppon hir, 
to whom fhe committed the intier fecrets of the loue betwene 

24 Rhomeo and hir. And although the olde Woman in the beginninge 
refilled lulietta hir intent, yet in the ende fhe knew fo wel how to 
perfuade and win hir, that fhe promifed in all that fhe was able to do, 
to be at her coraaundement. And then fhe fent hir with all diligence 

28 to fpeake to Rhomeo, and to know of him by what meanes they might 
be maried, and that he would do hir to vnderfland the determination 
betwene Fryre Laurence and him. Whom Rhomeo aunfwered, how 
the firfl day wherein he had informed Fryre Laurence of the matter, 

32 the fayde Fryre deferred aunfwere vntil the next, which was the very 
fame, and that it was not pad one houre fithens he returned with 
finall refolution, and that Frier Laurence and he had deuifed, that 
fhe the Saterday following, fhould crane leave of hir mother to go to 



4. part%ctUer\ particle ed. I. 
7. thaf\y* ory ed. i, doubtful. 



17. dayes respit\ delayed day eA. I. 
20-21. whom she might] om. ed. I« 



ic8 Rhomto and bdietta. 

couRfifioQ. ind 'o TTcparre to die Church of Sajn^ Francis, where ill 

.1 tartaviK Chappeil letreiir iher ihould be maried, prajing hir in any 

'*rie lot 'o irie :o Jc rhanct Which thinge the brooght to palTe 

4^ viui Liica oiicrecun. m oir mucher agreed to hir reqaefl: and 

i^xvuivauted ^ukut wTh hir ^orerrKiie, and a rooi^ majden, (he 

^ait>nru nxuftar it 'he ietenmned Jar and trme. And fo foone as 

he *» -Muwu tte Church, the called tor the good Dodor Fryer 

^ ..^iur^r. otu vi^ux iniWere wa» made that he was in the (hriving 

0^ayix:fu uki urta^«:ca idiKmiemefic was gieuen him of hir com- 

titii^, S* o«iue J» iv^er lasD^-^tttf was oenined of lulietta, hee went 

jiv ."w xw^ 't ne Ciunia. md wUed the olde Woman and yong 

I : M«(»u«ti v.> ;y >f:tfv trtut-«» jnd 'hat when hee had heard the con- 

'«di^u I i4^c«ni» te vouid irnd rur diem agarn to waite fpon hir. 

■^^kum Hji4iK'«f -^■♦KTc^ X /ictie Ceil wvth Frer Laamue, he (hut faft 

tK >;^iv >>» t«: «a> -voui :u iu, *«here R*iumeo X he had bin together 

• o 'Hai ^l ii. iHj v^o* ♦I >iae whuie hour betbre. Then Frier Lau- 

»i*%: ui^i imv w ud hnued riiem. layd O) luutetta : ''Daughter, as 

vivw««<^ xi* HVMfitt wd ^^jrfitied me. vuu Ifc jgreed Jit contented to 

v^Mo. >tiu v> HAit^&Ki* uta .)e it&ewTie vtiu tbr his Efpoofe and Wyfe. 

^« r>Vf v%4 K'>k ttU "^ittif uM vX»Q%mue m diac mynde? ** The Louers 

ivuvwciw^ tw* i^* >i«*tt^ jcue vither diing. The Fryer leeing 

'.iK^i sV%uv«iiKU X i|(:(^K<ti>«e while's Jfter he had diicouried fome- 

v\«w% '|>su iK vVUunoKtiiitxni s^' :xr.irfjge dignity, pronounced the 

^ v>4*»ul ^vxsuoi. v»i »K? Chim.^» 4tid the hautng receyoed the Ring 

t*vsM <^.#«**»^ iK* '^H^J ^^ >?fvn* uie Fryer, who tayd rnto them : 

' il >N*a \uw UM vHtKr ihiu^ :v cvnterre together, do the fame 

>%vm\ 'fcKvsk ^vH I iHit^K^ie thdC Riume^ thall goe firom hence 

»\ o A\«vii> *^ V <H4K ot'hi^iK^ twr CO goe trom HlUtta fayde 

>v\^v\»> ^*H\» '^«. '»Vii i^"^ ihooide tend vuco hym aifter cfincr the old 

\^^ .»w*w uKA iWi ^ %^id c^wa^ ^ be nude a carded Ladder the 

." 4viv H|vss;.v JKiw'Hvx*^ ^x-wc*^ Ncnw^n Romeo ami the Xuisc and after- 

^\ v>Hvv«A '"w N\M>.^' «a ^4iKt *ilicil iHv6*J>J>r ^Ye the hmt for mach of 

V^^.; Vv^ ■ Msi V« ^^ JH ^. Vt. tL v^^ :^^llkeip<^lre$ Play. Sec Brooke, 



• - \ 



:. 



. J, ., >, • A ssi*. s>i. t vj^ * *«* *:^ ^J ®"^ ^- ^ 

V . . ^v.; .»• -^ tUK*C.. Ittk. C^HaL 

^ ' 17. ^-irtltt/IMo/a/i^C., Hal. 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 109 

fame euening, thereby to climbe vp to her Chaber window, where at 
more leifure they would deuife of their affaires. Things determined 
betwene them, either of them retyred to their houle wt incredible 
4 contetation, attending the happy houre for confumation of their 
manage. Whe Rhomeo was come home to his houfe, he declared 
wholly what had paifed betwen him and lulietta, vnto a Seruaunt of 
his called Pietro, whofe fidelity he had fo greatly tryed, as he durft 
8 haue trufted him with hys lyfe, and commaunded him wyth expedition 
to prouide a Ladder of Cordes wyth 2. flrong Hookes of Iron faflned 
to both endes, which hee ealily did, becaufe they were mutch vfed in 
Italy, lulietta did not forget in the Euening about fiue of the Clocke, 

12 to send the olde Woman to Rhomeo, who hauing prepared all things 
neceifary, caufed the Ladder to be deliuered vnto her, and prayed hir 
^to require lulietta the fame euening not to feyle to bee at the 
accuflomed place.* But if this lomey feemed long to thefe two 

16 paffioned Loners, let other ludge, that haue at other tymes aflayed the 
lyke : for euery minute of an houre feemed to them a Thoufande yeares, 
fo that if they had had power to commaund the Heauens (as losua 
did the Sunne) the Earth had incontinently bene fhadowed wyth 

20 darkeft Cloudes. The appoyn^ed houre come, Rhomeo put on the 
moft fumptuous apparell hee had, and conduced by good fortune 
neere to the place where his heart tooke lyfe, was fo fully determined 
of hys purpofe, as eafily hee clymed up the Garden wall. Beinge 

24 arriued hard to the Wyndow, he perceyued lulietta, who had already 
fo well faftned the corded Laddei to draw him vp, as without any 
daunger at all, he entred hir cbambre, which was fo clere as the day, 
by reafon of the Tapers of virgin Wax, which lulietta had caufed to 

a8 be lighted, that fhe might the better beholde hir Rhomeo, lulietta 
for hir part, was but in hir night kerchief: Who fo foone as fhe per- 
ceyued him colled him about the Neck, & after fhe had kiffed and 
rekiflfed hym a million of times, began to imbrace hym betwene hir 

32 armes, hauing no power to fpeake vnto him, but by Sighes onely, 
holding hir mouth clofe againfl his, and being in this traunce beheld 

20 <<asseurer Juliette que ce soir mesme il ne faudroit au premier somme de se 
trouuer au lieu accoustum^ " [Brooke, 817— 819J. 

18. had had\ Aaded, 2, Has., C, Hal. 25. cordgJ] om. ed. 2, Has., C, Hal. 










5r "TiTX iHT lOer' lat. »r-r -ra^ iM.iM"ir 

-niacin ir i^e i^r .l;irsa-:gn iv tiht g""iji---«T I si aEzc 
j^#;f 'tLS ^•^serii se iir ••air =?'rfc-^^~*^ 3^ x laoiaasL 
mor**^ yvr'%0!fii3l hsa. Xifrgn. -r^cti x-iz^ "irnr ir :na jhl :3t j 

TrhiT.i ysgi-nsE rurft -uvm lie mr Tr-iroie if nr 



me T^^rter --Srent. a3it 3inFe yfa^ :n2i 1 "Hc -«^3iue "^ mac 

fli9 'vwnnisnziiiisiucix, "lieiescnmg" "i^ni -rTiiinir ^Iir:nT inrrniTrT :« 

4S«vfir;titie tae -pnuiaar it wr isr's n rci ani mas- And s 

tikeitt0^ "ittuty 5t «j'i ^am tiiem : * r5e "Trar * lift^ :iiiie in. iiOik. 

nev^viw^i^;^ 'iut lirae 'n laoc: B»it ir 'is -nnrrh ^ j» <jjtixt=' of ttjh jadx. 

etu&i<y^ ^twJk aiucaail p^ne*,'* 3cai:Li 911:0. iiee; i cnnpe viadi 

j$ I bone md(^ f«»3d7, ' ' 'Jbmrw w^ 'htrm zhtt Feide 3ed -v^oniii Jiee acai 

dien b<?r'3rene ffae 5b«a ia prTxj iaed, Jto-r liieir hiid gladded jod 

elhernlieii thfimUMm '»vJ}i d kisde ot drirrarr emhr aoanias wa»:^ 

I* hoe ^m ^iike. u> dexiiut, Rhnmer^ ▼nlix.toig die holr Enes of rcrg-jntT, 

tooke ^4k^Ki (A tW place, wiudi w» noc j« bcfteged w« Ensch dot 

^ '^ ^^ ▼'VM aa€z taac fiut eaidorer ^ mal Tob 2 Taxirre ** ^Bnoke. $96^ 
** " pr^^nex 7<tf arou^ A «i '>W2 'icwniiaii la. vig^i-ace*' [Brooke, S^SJ^ 



Rhomeo and lulietta. 1 1 1 

and cotentation as they can iudge which haue aflayed like delites. 
Their marriage thus confumate, Rhomeo perceyuing the morning 
make to hafly approch, tooke his leaue, making promife that he 
4 would not fayle wythin a day or two to refort agayne to the place by 
lyke meanes, and femblable time, vntil Fortune had prouided lure 
occafion vnfearfully to many fed their marriage to the whole Worlde. • 
And thus a month or twayne, they continued their ioyful mindes, to 
8 their incredible fatilTa^on, vntil Lady fortune enuious of their prof- 
perity, turned hir Wheele to tumble th6 into futch a bottomlefle pit, 
as they payed hir vfury for their pleafures pall, by a certayne moft 
cruell and pitifull death, as you fhal vnderilaud hereafter by the dif- 

12 courfe that followeth. Now as we haue before declared, the Capellets 
and the Montefches were not fo well reconciled by the Lord of 
Verona, but that there refted in them futch fparks of auncient dif- 
pleafures, as either partes waited but for fome light occafion to draw 

1 6 togethers, which they did in the Eafter holy dayes, (as bloudy men 
commonly be mofl willingly difpofed after a good time to commit 
fome nefarious deede) befides the Gate of Bourfarie leading to the olde 
caflel of Ferona, sl troupe of Capellets rencountred with certayne of 

ao the Montefches, and without other woordes began to fet vpon them. 
And the Capellets had for Chiefe of their Glorious enterprife one 
called Thibault cofin Germayne to lulietta, a yong man Ib-ougly 
made, & of good experiece in armes, who exhorted his Companions 

*4 with flout flom:ikes to repreffe the boldnes of the Montefches, that 
ther might from that time forth no memory of them be left at all. 
^ The rumoure of this fray was difperffed throughout al the comers 
of Verona, that fuccour might come from all partes of the Citty to 

28 depart the fame.* Whereof Rhomeo aduertized, who walked alonges 
the Citty with certayne of his Companions, hafled him fpeadily to the 
place where the (laughter of his Parents and alies were committed : 
and after he had well aduifed and beholden many wounded and hurt 

32 on both fides, he fayd to hys Companions : " My freds let vs part 

^ "et s*aiigmenta la rumeur de telle sorte par tous les catons de Veronne qu*il 
y suruenoit da secours de toutes parts '' [Brooke, 983-4]. 

25. migk/\ shcuid e^ i. 26. disptrssed\ increased rA, I. 

26. Tfu\ And the eA, I. 27. might\ should eA, I. 



1 1 2 Rhonteo and lulietta. 

tbem, for they be fo fleiht one upo an other, as they will all be hewed 
to pieces before the game be done." And faying fo, he thmfl him- 
(elfe amids the troupe, and did no more but part the blowes 6n eyther 
4 fide, cr}'ing upon them aloud. " My fireends, no more, it is time 
henceforth that our quarel ceale. For betides ye prouocation of Gods 
iufl wrath, our two families be flaunderous to the whole World, and 
are the caufe that this common wealth doth grow vnto diforder." 
8 But they were fo egre and furious t)ne agaynft the other, as they gaue 
no audiece to Rhomeo his councel and bent theymfelues too kyll 
dyfmember and teare eche other in pieces. And the fyght was fo 
cruell and outragious betweene them as they which looked on, were 

12 amafed to fee theym endure thofe blowes, for the grounde was all 
cmiered with armes, legges thighes, and bloude, wherein no (igne of 
cowardnes appeared, and mayntayned their feyghte fo longe, that 
none was able to iudge who hadde the better, vntill that ThibauU 

i6 Oiusin to lulietta inflamed with ire and rage, turned towardes 
Hhiimeo thinkinge with a foine to runne him through. But he was 
fo wel armed and defended with a priuye coate whiche he wore 
wdinarily for the doubt he had of the Capeilets, as the pricke re- 

20 bounded : vnto whom Rhomeo made anfweare : " Thilault thou 
maiefl know by the pacience which I haue had vntill this prefent 
tyme, that I came not hether to fyght with tbee or thyne, but to 
feeke peace & attonemente betweene vs, and if thou thinkeft that for 

24 default o{ courage I have fayled myne endeuor, thou doeft greate 
wronge to my reputacion. And impute tbys my fufFrance to fome 
tfihct perticular refpede, rather than to wante of flomacke. Wher- 
fi/tti abufe mee not but be content with this greate efFuflon of Bloude 

28 and murders already comitted. And proudke mee not I befeeche thee 
U) parte the boundes of ray good will and mynde." "Ah Traitor** 
f^yd Thibaulte "thou thinkefte to faue thy felfe by 2* the plotte of thy 
pl«?afaunt tounge,* but fee that thou defende thy felfe, els prefently I 

^» will make thee feele that thy tounge {hal not gard thy corps, nor yet 

** " le plat de ta langue ** [Bailler du plat de la langue. To so&ik, smooth^ 
/(ntUrtdt. — Cotgrave. Brooke, 1017]. 

I. they wUl\ tfuy om. ed. 2, Has., 7- doth grow] to grow tA. I. 

«, ^ llnl. 17. /oin€] prkke ed. 2, Has., C, 

07. atui , . .this] and cause this cA i. Hal. 



Rhomeo and lulieiia. 113 

be the Buckler to defende the fame from prefent death.** And faying 
fo he gaue him a blow with fuch fiiiye, as hadde not other warded 
the fame hee had cutte of his heade from his fhoulders, and the one 
4 was no readyer to lende, but the other incontinentlye was able to paye 
agayne, for hee being not onelye wroth with the blowe that hee had 
receiued, but 'offended with the iniury which the other had don, 
began to purfue his ennemy with fuche courage and viuacity, as at 
8 the third blowe with his fwerd hee caufed him to fall backewarde 
flarke deade vppon the ground with a pricke vehementlye thrulle into 
his throte, whiche hee followed till hys Sworde appeared throughe 
the hynder parte of the fame, by reafon wherof the conflide ceafTed. 

12 For befides that Thihaiilt was the chiefe of his companye he was alfo 
borne of one of the Nobleft houfes within the Cittye, which caufed 
the Poteilate to aflemble his Souldiers with diligence for the appre- 
henfion and imprifonment of Rhomeo, who feyeng yl fortune at hand, 

16 in fecrete wife conuayed him felfe to Fryer Laurence at the Friers 
Francifcanes, And the Fryer vnderftandinge of his fade, kepte him 
in a certayne fecret place of his couente vntil fortune did otherwyfe 
prouyde for his fafe goinge abroade. The bruite fpred throughout 

20 the citty, of this chaunce don vpon the lorde Thibault, the Capellets 
in mourning weedes caufed the deade bodye to be caryed before the 
sygnory of Verona, fo well to moue them to pytty, as to demaunde 
iuflice for the murder: before whom came alfo the Montefches 

24 declaryng the innocencye of Rhomeo, and the wilfull aflault of the 
other. The councell aflembled and witnefles heard on both partes a 
ftraight conamaundemente was geuen by the Lorde of the Citty to 
geeu6 ouer theire weapons, and touchiuge the offence of Rhomeo, 

28 becaufe he hadde killed the other in his owne defence, he was 
baniihed Verona for euer. This c5mo miffortune publiihed through- 
out the Citty, was generally forowed and lamented. Som complayned 
the death of ye Lorde Thibault fo well for his dexteritye in armes as 

32 for the hope ^of his great good feruice in time to come,* if hee hadde 
not bene prevented by futch cruell Death. Other bewailed (fpecially 

^ ** qu'on auoit vn iour de luy, & des grands biens qui luy estoient preparez " 
[Brooke, 1054-56]. 



7. at] om. C, HaL 30. complayned] complayrutk ed. 2. 

RHOMEO. 8 



114 



Rhomeo and lulietta. 



the Ladies and Grentlewomen) the overthrow of yong Rhomeo, who 
befides his beauty and good grace wherwith he was enriched, had a 
certayne naturall allurement, by vertue whereof he drewvnto him the 
4 hearts of eche man, like as the stony A^damante doth the cancred iron, 
in futch wife as the whole nation and people of Verona lamented his 
mifchaunce : But aboue all infortunate lulietta, who aduertifed both 
of the death of hir cofin Thibault, and of the banifhment of hir 
8 huiband, made the Ayre found with infinite number of momefiill 
playnts and miferable lamentations. Then feeling hirfelfe to mutch 
outraged with extreeme paflion, fhe went into hir chamber, and ouer- 
come with forrowe threwe hir felfe vpon hir bed, where fhe began to 

I a reinforce hir dolor after fo flraunge faihion, as the mod conflant 
would haue bene moued to pitty. The like one out of hir wits, fhe 
gazed heere and there, and by Fortune beholding the Window whereat 
Rhomeo was wont to enter into hir chamber, cried out : " Oh vnhappy 

i6 Windowe, Oh entry mofl vulucky, ^^ wherein were wouen the bitter 
toyle of my former mifhaps,* if by thy meanes I haue receyued at 
other times fome light pleafure or tranfitory contentation, thou now 
makefl me pay a tribute fo rigorous and paynefull, as my tender body 

ao not able any longer to fupport the fame, fhall henceforth open the 
Grate to that lyfe where the ghofl difcharged fi-om this mortal burden, 
fhal feeke in fome place els more aflfured refl. Ah Rhomeo, Rhomeo 
when acquayntaunce firfl began betweene vs, and 1 reclined myne 

24 eares vnto thy fubomed promifles, confirmed with fo many othes 
I would neuer haue beleeued that in place of our continued amyty, 
and in appeafing of ye hatred of our houfes, thou wouldefl haue fought 
occafion to breake the fame by an a6te fo fhameflill, whereby thy 

a8 fame fhall be fpotted for euer, and I miferable wretch defolate of 
Spoufe, and Companion. But if thou haddefl beene fo gready after 
the Cappelletts bloud, wherefore didfl thou fpare the deare bloud of 
mine owne heart Arhen fo many tymes, and m futch fecret place the 

3a fame was at the mercy of thy cruell handes ? ^T^he vidory which 

*• " par Ixuiuelle furent ourdies les ameres trames de mes premiers malheurs" 
[Brooke, 1 100]. 
'^ ** La victoire que vous auiez eue sur moy ne vous sembloit die assez glori- 

23. Jreclined\ /om. ed. 2, Has., C, 27. shartufull\vituperum5 and shame' 

Hal. ptll^A. I. 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 1 1 5 

thou ihouldefl haue gotten ouer me, had it not bene glorious inough 
for thine ambitious minde, but for more triumphant folerapnity to 
bee crowned wyth the bloude of my deareft kiufman ? * Now get 
4 thee hence therefore into fome other place to deceiue fome other, fo 
vnhappy as my felfe. Neuer come agayne in place where I am, for 
no excufe fhall heereafter take holde to alfwage mine offended minde. 
In the meane tyme I shall lament the rell of my heauy lyfe, with 
8 futch ftore of teares, as my body ^ dried vp from all humidity, fhall 
Ihortly fearch reliefe in Earth.'* * And hauing made an ende of 
thofe hir wordes, hir heart was fo grieuoufly ftrayned, as fhee coulde 
neyther weepe nor fpeake, and floode fo immoueable, as if flie had 

12 bene in a traunce. Then being fomewhat come agayne vnto hirfelfe,, 
with feeble voyce fliee fayd : ** Ah murderous tongue of other mens 
honor, how dareft thou fo iufamoufly to fpeake of him whom his 
very enimies doe conimed and prayfe? How prefumeft thou to 

1 6 impute the blame vpon Rhorneo, whofe vnguiltines and innocent 
dcede euery man alloweth ? Where from henceforth fhall be hys 
refuge ? fith fhe which ought to bee the onely Bulwarke, and affured 
rampire of his diilreffe, doth purfue and defame him ? Receyue, 

20 receyue then Rhomeo the fatiffa^ign of mine ingratitude by the 
facrifice which I fhal make of my proper lyfe, and fo the faulte 
whiche I have committed agaynfle thy loyaltye, fhall bee made open 
to the Worlde, thou being reuenged and my felfe punifhed." And 

24 thinking to vfe fome further talke, all the powers of hir body fayled 
hir wyth fignes of prefent death. But the good olde Woman whych 
could not imagine the caufe of lulietta hir longe abfence, doubted 
very mutch that fhe fuffred fome paflion, and fought hir vp and 

28 downe in euery place wythin hir Fathers Pallace, vntill at length 
fliee founde her lying a long vpon hir Bed, all the outwarde parts of 
hir body fo colde as Marble. But the good Olde woman which 
thought hir to bee deade, began to cry like one out of hir Wittes, 

32 faying : " Ah deare Daughter, and Nourfechylde, howe mutch doeth 

euse, si pour la mieux solenniser elle n*estoit couronnee de sang, du plus cher de 
tous mes cousins ? " [Brooke, 1 129-32]. 

«* espuis^ de toute humidity cherchera en brief son refrigere en terre" 
[Brooke, 1139-40]. 

24. fHrther\furder tA. I. 29. a long^ om. C, Hal. 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 117 

This iorney then fared like the voiages of Mariners, who after they 
haue ben toft by greate and troublous tempeft feeyng fome Suiine 
beame pearce the heauens to lyghten the lande, aifure themfelues 
4 agayne, and thinkinge to haue avoyded ihipwracke, and fodaynlye the 
feas begynne to fwell, the wanes do roare, with futch vehemence and 
noyfe, as if they were fallen agayne into greater danger than before. 
The afligned hour come, Rhomeo fay led not accordinge to hys promife 
8 ^to bee in his Garden,* where he found his furniture preft to mount 
the Chamber of lulietta, who with difplayed armes, began fo 
ftrayghtly to imbrace hym, as it feemed that the foule would haue 
abandoned hir body. And they two more than a large quarter of an 

12 hour were in futch agony, as they were not able to pronounce one 
word, '^and wetting ech others Face faft clofed together, the teares 
trickeled downe in futch abundance as they feemed to be throughly 
bathed therin,* which Rhomeo perceyuing, thinking to ftay thofe im- 

16 moderate teares, fayd vnto hir : " Myne owne deareft freend lulietta, I 
am not now determined to recite the particulars of the ftraung happes 
of frayle and inconftaunte Fortune, who in a moment hoifteth a man 
vp to the hygheft degree of hir wheele, and by, and by, in lefle fpace 

20 than in the twynckeling of an eye, fhe throweth hym downe agayne 
fo lowe, as more mifery is prepared for him in one day, than fauour 
in one hundred yeares : Whych I now proue, & haue experience in 
my felfe, which haue bene nourifhed delicately amonges my frends, 

24 and maynteyned in futch profperous ftate, ^^as you doe Jittle know,* 
hoping (for the full perfe6tion of my felicity) by meanes of our 
mariage to haue reconciled our Parents, and frends, and to conduft 
the refidue of my lyfe, ^according to the fcope and lot determined by 

28 Almighty God : • And neuerthelefle all myne enterprifes be put 
backe, and my purpofes tourned cleane contrary, in futch wife as 
from henceforth I muft wander lyke a vagabonde through diners Pro- 
uinces, and fequeftrate my felfe from my Frends, wythout aftured place 

*• ** de se rendre au iardin." 

'^ " £t ayans leurs faces serr^ Tvne c5tre I'autre, humoift ensemble auecques 
leurs baisers les grosses larmes, qui tomboient de leurs yeux ** [Brooke, 1537-42]. 
>i ** que vous auez peu cognoistre ** [ — as yourselfe djrd see — Brooke, 1558]. 
w ** 4 son periode determine de dieu " [Brooke, 1564]. 

14. throughly] tharoughlye ed. I. 15. thinking] and thinking eA. I. 



1 1 8 Rhomeo and Itiliella. 

of myne abode, whych I delire to let you weete, to the intent you 
may be eidiorted, in tyme to come, paciently to beare fo well myne 
ab fence, as that whych it fhal pleafe God to appoint." But luHetta, 

43!^^ affrighted wyth teares and mortal agonies, would not fuflfer hym 
to pafle any further, but interruptinge his purpofe, fayd vnto hym : 
" Rhomeo, how canft thou be fo harde hearted and voyde of all pity, 
to leaue mee heere alone, befieged with fo manye deadlye myferies ? 

8 There is neyther houre nor Minute, wherein death doth not appeare 
a thoufand tymes before mee, and yet my milfehappe is futch, as I 
can not dye, and therefore doe nianyfeftlye perceyue, that the fame 
death preferveth my lyfe, of purpofe to delight in my gryefes, and 

12 tryumphe ouer my euyls. And thou lyke the mynifler and tyrante of 
hir cruelty, doeft make no confcience (for ought that I can fee) hauing 
atchieued the Summe of thy defyres and pleafures on me, to abandon 
and forfake me. Whereby I well perceyue, that all the lawes of 

16 Amity are deade and vtterly extinguyfhed, forfomuLch as he in whom 
I had greateft hope and confidence, and for whofe fake I am become 
an enimy to my felf, doth difdayne and contemne me. No no 
Rhomeo, thou mud fully refolue thy felfe vppon one of thefe .ii. points, 

ao either to fee me incontinently throwen down headlong from this high 
Window after thee : or elfe to fuffer me to accompany thee into that 
Countrey or Place whither Fortune {ball guide thee : for my heart is 
fo mutch tranfformed into thine, that fo foone as I fhall vnderftande 

^4 of thy departure, prefently my lyfe will depart this w.ofoll body : the 
continuance whereof I doe not defire for any other purpofe, but only 
to delight my felfe in thy prefence, and to bee pertaker of thy mif- 
fortunes. And therefore if euer there lodged any pity in the heart of 

aS gentleman, I befeeche the Rhomeo with al humility, that it may now 
finde place in thee, and that thou wilt vouchfafe to receyue me for 
thy feruaunt, and the faithful companion of thy miihaps. And if thou 
thinke that thou canft not conueniently receyue me in the eftate and 

3* hubite of a Wyfe, who Ihall let me to chaunge myne apparell ? Shall 
I be the firrt that haue vfed lyke fhiftes, to efcape the tyranny of 
jmrenteN ? DoHte thou doubt that my feruice will not bee fo good 

" *'c<»nritr" [— Htccpcd in. Brooke, 1576]. 

^. _ . .... — ^-^^ 

7. t$hfHt\ hft* cd. a. 26. and to bte\ and om. ed. 2, Has., 

C, Hal. 



Rhorneo and lulielta. 



119 



vnto thee as that of Petre thy feruaunte ? Wyll my loyalty e and 
fidelity be lefle than his ? My beauty which at other tymes thou haft 
fo greatly commended, '^is it not efteemed of thee ? * My teares, my 
4 loue, and the aunciente pleafures and delights that you haue taken in 
mee (hal they be in obliuyon ? " Rhorneo **feing hir in thefe alter- 
ations,* fearing that worfle inconuenience would chaunce, tooke hir 
agayne betweene hys armes, and killing hir amoroufly, fayd: "lulieita, 
8 the onely miftreffe of my heart, I pray thee in the Name of God, and 
for the feruent Loue whych thou beareft vnto me, to doe away thofe 
vayne cogitations, excepte thou meane to feeke and hazard the 
deftru6iion of vs both : for yf thou perfeuer in this purpofe, there is 

12 no remedye but wee mufle both periih : for fo fooneas thyne abfence 
fhalbe knowen, thy father will make futch earneft purfute after vs, 
that we cannot chofe but be difcried and taken, and in the ende 
cruelly puniihed, I as a theefe and dealer of thee, and thou as a 

16 dyfobedyent Daughter to thy Father: and fo inftead of pleafaunt and 
quiet Lyfe, our Dayes fhalbe abridged by moft fhamefiill Death. But 
if thou wylt recline thy felf to reafon, (the ryght rule of humane 
Lyfe,) and for ye tyme abandon our mutuall delyghts, I will take 

20 futch order in the time of my banifhment, as within three or foure 
Months wythoute any delay, I fhalbe reuoked home agayne. But if 
it fall out otherwyfe (as I trufl not,) howfoeuer it happen, I wyll come 
agayne vnto thee, and with the helpe of my Fiyendes wyll fetch thee 

24 from Verona by flrong Hand, not in Counterfeit Apparell as a 
ftraunger, but lyke my fpoufe and perpetuall companion. In the 
meane time quyet your felfe, and be fure that nothing elfe but Death 
fhall diuide and put vs a funder." The reafons of Rhorneo fo mutch 

28 preuailed with lulietta, as fhee made hym thys aunfwere : " Mj deare 
Fryend, I wyll doe nothing contrary to your wyll and pleafure. And 
to what place fo euer you repayre, my hearte fhall bee your owne, in 
like forte as you haue giuen yours to be mine. In the meane while 

32 I pray you not to faile oftentimes to aduertife me by Frier ZMurence, 

•* " n'aura elle aucun ponuoir sur vous ? " [Brooke, 1627]. 
■• " la vojrant entrer en ses alteres " [Alteres. Vehement passions of the mind. 
— Cotgrave. Brooke, 1630-31]. 



3. is it] it is ed. 2, Has., C, Hal. 
9. to doe] to extirpate and doe ed. I. 



II. purpose] determination ed. I. 
16. thy] Aired, I. 



I ^o Rhomeo and lulietta. 

in what ftate your aflPaires be, and fpecially of the place of your abode." 
Thus thefe two pore louers paHed the Night togither, vntil the day 
began to appeare which did dyuyde them, to their extreame forrow 
4 and gryef. Rhomeo hauinge taken leaue of luiietta, went to S. 
frauncesy and alter he hadde aduertyfed Frier Laurence of his affaires, 
departed trora f^erona in the habit of a Marchaunt ftraunger, and 
vfed futch expedytyon, as without hurt he arriued at Mantua, (ac- 
8 conipauied onely wyth Petre his Seruaunt, whome hee haftily fente 
backe agayne to Ferona, to ferue his Father) where he tooke a Houfe : 
and lyuyng in honorable Companye, aflayed certayne Monthes to put 
away the gryefe whych lb tormented him. But duryng the tyme of 

%% hi.H abllnicc, niik'rable luiietta^ co\Ad not foclokehir forrow,* but that 
ihrDUgh tlic cuyll colour of hir Face, hir inwarde paffion was difcryed. 
Hy ivai'on whereof hir Mother, who heard hir oftentimes fighing, and 
iiurllaiuly coniplayning, coulde not forbeare to fay vnto hir : 

i^> •• daughter if you continue long after thys fort, you wyll haften the 
IXmiIi ot' your good Father and me, who loue you fo dearely as our 
(iwm^ lyucH : whcrctbre henceforth moderate your heauineffe, and 
4?inUnn>r your felt* to be mery : think no more vpon the Death of your 

'*(* (odii TklbauU, whome (lith it pleafed God to cal away) do you thinke 
|<i fiuioki^ wyth Teareti, and fo withftande his Almightye will ? " But 
lli45 |M»ro (icntlcwoman not able to dyffemble hir griefe, fayd vnto 
hir J ** M4vlaujt» long time it is fithens the laft Teares for Thibault 

24 wtsr^ poiiriHl forth, and I beleue that the fountayne is fo well foked 
i4fi(t dricnl vp. m no more will fpryng in that place." The mother 
wliii h (ouhl not tell to what effed thofe Woords were fpoken held 
hir |>r,a< 4^ f(ir feare (lie Ihould trouble hir Daughter : and certayne 

%H UaytJ* aflt^r feeing hir to continue in heauineffe and continuall griefs, 
ik\Um\ by al uieanes poflible to know, afwell of hir, as of other the 
hoii(li(ilde. Servauntes, the occafion of hir forrow: but al in Vayne: 
wh^rwilh ihtJ pore mother vexed beyonde meafure, purpofed to let 

ji iImj Lord Antonio hir Hulband to vnderftand the cafe of hir Daughter. 
*» '' r»i! w^ut donncr «i bonnes trcfiies k son dueU " [Brooke, 1782]. 



i f^yuy*JA »f/^ru/fcd, I. 21. and so] and io ed. I. 

7 Af(4h/mi\ IU». Afantoua ed. I. 30- ^> sorrmo] their sorrow ed. 2, 

MnffftH^m M, ». Mantuoa C. Man- Has., C, Hal. 

/^,,^ \i^\ 31- purposed] proposed ll9S,,C^ HaL 



naa 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 121 

And vppon a Day feeing him at conuenient leifure, flie layd vnto 
him : " My Lord, if you haue marked the Countenaunce of our 
Daughter, and hir kinde of behauior Athens the Death of the Lord 
4 Thibault hir Cofyn, you ftiall perceiue fo ftraunge mutation in hir, as 
it will make you to maruell : for (he is not onely contented to forgoe 
meate, drinke and llepe, but fhe fpendeth her tyme in nothing elfe 
then in Weeping and Lamentatyon, delighting to kepe hir felfe 
8 folytarye wythin hir Chamber, where fhe tormenteth hir felf fo out- 
ragioufly as yf wee take not heede, hir Lyfe is to be doubted, and not 
able to knowe the Oryginall of hir Payne, the more difficulte ftiall 
bee the remedye: for albeit that I haue fought meanes by all extremity, 

12 yet cannot I learne the caufe of hir fickneife. And where I thought 
in the beginning, that it proceded vpon the Death of hir Cofin, now 
I doe manifeftly perceiue the contrary, fpecially when ftie hir felf did 
affure me that flie had already wept and ftied the laft teares for him 

16 that flie was mynded to doe. And vncertayne whereuppon to refolue, 
I do thinke verily that flie mourneth for fome defpite, to fee the moft 
part of hir Companions maried, and flie yet vnprouyded, perfuading 
with hir felfe (it may be) that wee hir Parents do not care for hir. 

ao Wherefore deare Huflband, I heartely befeech you for our reft and hir 
quiet, that hereafter ye be carefull to prouyde for hir fome maryage 
worthy of our ftate : ** whereunto the Lord Antonio, willingly agreed, 
faying vnto hir: "Wyfe, I haue many times thought vppon that 

24 whereof you fpeake, notwythftandyng fith as yet ftie is not attayned 
to the age of .xviii. yeares, I thought to prouide a huflband at leyfure. 
Neuertheleflfe things beinge come to thefe Termes, and knowing yt 
Virgins chaftity is a daungerous Treafure, *^I wyll be mindfull of the 

28 fame to your contentation, and ftie matched in futch wyfe, as ftie 
ftiall thynke the tyme hitherto well delayed.* In the meane while 
marke dylygently whyther ftie bee in loue wyth any, to the end that 
we haue not fo greate regard to goodes, or to the Nobylity of the 

^ '*Vy pouruoiray si promptement, que voos aarez occasion de yous en 
contenter, & elle de recouurer son en bon poinct, qui se perd k veue d'oeil'' 
[Painter in his translation of this passage would seem to have consulted Brooke, 
1866]. 

7. M«f] hited. I. 26. yf] the ed. 2. 

18. hirl theyr ed. 2. -^x, or to the\ to om. C. 



12:2 Rhomeo and lulietta, 

houle wherein we mean to beftow hir, as to the Lyfe and Health of 
our Daughter who is to me lb deare as I had rather die a Begger 
without Landes or goods, than to beftow hir vpo one which fhall vfe 
4 and intreat hir il." Certayne dayes after that the Lorde Antonio had 
bruted the maryage of his daughter, many Gentlemen were futers, fo 
wcl for the excellency of hir Beauty, as for hir great Rychefle and 
rcucnue. But aboue all others the alyaunce of a young Earle named 
B /*am, the Counte of Lodronne, lyked the Lord Antonio : vnto whom 
lyU'rully he gaue his confent, and told his Wyie the party vppon 
whoiu he dyd mean to beftow his Daughter. The mother very ioy- 
(iil that they had found fo honeft a Gentleman for theyr Daughter, 

I) tauicd liir fecretly to be called before hir, doyng hir to vnderftande 
what thiugfi had palied betwen hir father & ye Coute Paris, difcourfing • 
viilu hir y« beauty & good grace of ye yog Coute, the vertues for 
which ho was commended of al men, ioyning therevnto for con- 

i6 t^luiion the great richelfc and fauor which he had in the goods of 
fortune, by means whereof Ihe and hir Fryends (hould line in eternal 
honor. But lulitita which had rather to haue ben tome in pieces 
ihau to agree to that maryage, anfwered hir mother with a more 

ap thai* accultoujcd Itoutueile : " Madame, I mutch maruel, and there- 
witluil am aitonued that you being a Lady difcrete and honorable, 
wil be fo liberal ouer your Daughter as to commit hir to the pleafure 
and wil uf an other, before you do know how hir mind is bent : you 

a 4 liiay do aji it pleafeth you, but of one thing I do wel affure you, 
thai if you bring it to pafte, it Ihal be againft my wil. And touching 
llus riJgard and eftimation of Coute Paris, I fhal firft lofe my Lyfe 
h^iuta U0 ftial haue power to touch any part of my body : which 

»ft Using iloiits, it i» you that ihal be counted the murderer, by deliuering 
1110 Into the handei* of him, whome I neyther can, wil, or know 
whii^lus way to loue. Wherefore I pray you to fufFer me henceforth 
Uiut Ut Iyu0, wy thout taking any further care of me, for fo mutche as 

|» Miy (ru^ll hirtune hath otherwyfe difpofed of me." 

'1 ti0 d(i!(irow« Mother which knewe not what Judgement to fixe 
viif'M hir Uaughtew aunfwere, lyke a Woman confufed and befides 
t«)r iuUii Wisnl to feeke the Lord Antonio, vnto whom without con- 

^fi *^yll*ig any pari of hir Daughters aunfwer, (he dyd him vnderftand 
M c/y*] '*/t^ «!• «• 3^- aunswer'] talk ed. i. 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 1 23 

the whole. The good olde man oflended beyonde meafure, 
c5inaunded her incontinently by Force to be brought before him, il 
of hir own good will (he would not come. So foone as (he came 
4 before hir Father, hir eyes full of tears, fel down at his fete, which (he 
bathed with the luke warme drops yt diftilled from hir Eyes in great 
abundance, and thynkyng to open hir mouth to crye him mercy, the 
sobbes and fighes many times ilopt hir fpeach, that fhee remained 
8 dumbe not able to frame a Woorde. But the olde man nothing 
moued with his Daughters Teares, fayd vnto hir in great rage : " Come 
hither thou vnkynd and dyfobedient Daughter, haft thou forgotten 
how many tymes thou haft hearde fpoken at the Table, of the puif- 

la fance and authoryty our auncyente Romane Fathers had oner their 
Chyldren ? vnto whome it was not onelye lawfull to fell, guage, and 
otherwyfe dyfpofe them (in theyr neceffity) at their pleafure, but alfo 
which is more, they had abfolute power oner their Death and Lyfe ? 

16 With what yrons, with what torments, with what racks would thofe 
good Fathers chaften and corred thee if they were a line againe, to 
fee that ingratitude, mifbehauior and difobedience which thou vfeft 
towards thy Father, who with many prayers and requeftes hath 

ao prouided one of the greateft Lords of this prouince to be thy hufband, 
a Gentleman of beft renoume, and indued wyth all kynde of Vertues, 
of whom thou and I be vnworthy, both for the notable mafte of 
goods and fubftance wherewith he is enriched, as alfo for the Honoure 

24 and generofitie of the houfe whereof hee is difcended and yet thou 
playeft the parte of an obftinate and rebellyous Chyld agaynft thy 
Fathers will : I take the omnipotency of that Almightye God to wit- 
nefle, ^ which hath vouchfafed to bryng thee forth into this world* 

28 that if vpon Tuefday nexte thou faileft to prepare thy felfe to be at 
my Caftell of VUlxtfranco, where the Counte Paris purpofeth to 
meete vs, and there giue thy confent to that whych thy Mother and 
I haue agreed vppon, I will not onely depriue thee of my worldly 

32 goodes, but alfo will make the efpoufe & marie a pr)'fon fo ftraight 
and fharpe, as a thoulande times thou (halt curfe the Day & tyme 
wherein thou waft borne. Wherfore from henceforth take aduifement 



88 « 



qui m*a fiiict la grace de te produyre sur terre " [Brooke, 1972]. 



10. forgotten^ already forgotten ed. i. 



124 Rhomeo and lulUttcu 

what thou doefl, for excepte the promife be kept which I haue made 
to the Counte Paris, I will make the feele how greate yc iufl choler 
of an offended Father is againfl a Chylde vnkynde." And without 

4 Haying for other anfwer of his Daughter, the olde man departed the 
Chamber, and lefte hir vppon hir knees. lulietta knowing the fu 
of hir Father, fearing to incurre his indignation, or to prouoke his 
further wrath, retired for yt day into hir Chaber, •^and contriued yt 

8 wJiole Nygl^t more in weeping then flepyng.* And the next Morn- 
ing fayning to goe heare feruice, fhe went forth with the Woman of 
hir Chamber to the Fryers, where fhe caufed father Laurence to be 
<;all<'<l vtito hir, and prayed him to heare hir confeflion. And when 

$% i\in'. wai» vj)on hir knees before hym, ihee began hir Confeflion wyth 
'jVan'n, lulling him the greate mifchyefe that was prepared for hir, by 
tlii* iiiuryage accorded betweene hir Father, and the Counte Paris, 
An'i for condufion faid vnto him : " Sir, for fo mutch as you know 

|/V \Um J can not by (jods Law bee maried twice, and that I haue but 
tfuv iUni, one hufband and one faiih, I am determined when I am 
Uitm \\i*\\cjt, with tliefe two hands which you fee ioyned before you, 
I bin Day lo end my forowful lyfe, that my foule may beare wytnefTe 

flO in i\i*f liemuMU, and my bloude vppon the Earth of my faith and 
loyally prfftTued." Then hauyng ended hir talke, fhee looked about 
hir, and fi't^med by hir wylde countenaunce, as though fhe had 
deulfed fome liniiler purpofe. Wherefore Frier Laurence, aflonned 

34 bcyondti meufure, fearyng leafl Ihe would haue executed that which 
ihii wa* delermyned, fayd vnto hir : " Miflrefle lulietta, I pray you 
in the name of god by little and little to moderate youre conceiued 
griefe, and lo content your felf whilll you bee heere, *^vntill I haue 

ati prouided what in bell ftir you to doe,* for before you part from hence, 
I will glue you futch conlolutton and remedy for your affli^ons, as 
you Ihall remaine fatyrtied and contented." And refolued vppon thys 
good minde, he f|)eedily wente out of the Churche vnto his chamber, 

a a where he began to ctinlider of many things, his confcience bejrng 
M ♦♦el exei^a loute la nuict plui «« yeulx 4 plorer qu'a dormir " [Brooke, 

*<* ^MuMjuess k c« que i'aye pourueu ^ vv^tre affaire** [Brooke, 2038]. 

7, j^ ./ill*] iJkat J*iy ed, I. tk^ «*♦!• 7'S, y wMt] th€ wkoU ed. I. 
Hask, C„ Hal 




Rhomeo and lulietta. 1 25 

moued to hinder the marriage betweue the Counte Parts and hir, 
knowing that by his meanes (he had efpoufed an other, and callynge 
to remenabraunce what a daungerous enterprife he had begonne by 
4 comnaittyng hymfelf to the mercy of a fyniple damofell, and that if 
fhee fayled to bee wyfe and fecrete, all theyr doyngs fhould be 
difcried, he defamed, and Rhomeo hir fpoufe puniihed. Hee then 
after he had well debated vpon an infinite numbre of deuifes, was in 
8 the end ouercome with pity, and determined rather to hazarde his 
honour, than to fufFer the Adultery of the Counte Paris with lulietta. 
And being determined herevpon, opened his clofet, and takynge a 
vyall in his Hande, retourned agayne to lulietta, whom he founde lyke 

I a one that was in a Traunce, wayghtinge for Newes, eyther of Lyfe or 
Death. Of whome the good olde Father demaunded vppon what 
Day hir maryage was appoynted. " The firfte Daye of that appoynt- 
ment** (quod (hee) "is vppon Wednefdaye, why ch is the Daye ordeyned 

16 for my Confente of Maryage accorded betweene my father and 
Counte Paris, but the Nuptiall Solemnitye is not before the .x. day 
of September." ''Wei then'* (quod the religious Father) "be of 
good cheere daughter, for our Lord God hathe opened a way vnto me 

20 both to deliuer you and Rhomeo from the prepared thraldom. I haue 
knowne your hulband from his cradle, and hee hath daily committed 
vnto me the greateft fecretes of hys Confcience, and I haue fo dearely 
loued him agayne, as if hee had ben mine owne fonne. Wherefore 

24 my heart can not abide that anye man (hould do him wrong in that 
fpecially wherein my Counfell may ilande him in ftede. And for 
fomutch as you are his wyfe, I ought lykewyfe to loue you, and feke 
meanes to delyuer you fro the martyrdome and Anguiih wherewyth 

28 I fee your heart befieged. Underftande then (good Daughter) of a 
fecrete which I purpofe to manifeil vnto you, and take heede aboue 
all thinges that you declare it to no lining creature, for therein con- 
fifteth your life and Death. Ye be not ignorant by the common re- 

3 2 port of the Cityzens of this City, and by the fame publifbed of me, 
that I have trauailed throughe all the Prouinces of the habytable 
Earthe, wherby duryng the continuall tyme of .xx. yeres, I haue 

2. that by\ that om. ed. 2, Has., C, 7. an infinite\ an om. ed. 2, Has., 

HaL C, Hal. 

33. throughe\ thorough ed. I. 



1 26 Rhomeo and lulietta, 

foughte no reft for my wearied body, but rather haue many times 
protruded the fame to the mercy of brute beafb in the Wyldemefle, and 
many times alfo to the mercilefle Wanes of the Seas, and to the pity of 
4 com mon Pirates, together with a thoufand other Daungers and (hipwracks 
vppon Sea and Land. So it is good Daughter that all my wandring 
Voyages haue not bene altogethers vnprofitable. For befides the 
incredible contetation receiued ordinarily in mind, I haue gathered 
8 fome particular fruy6t, whereof by the grace of god you fhall fhortly 
feele fome experience. I haue proued the fecrete properties of 
Stones, of Plants, Metals, and other thinges hydden within the Bowels 
of the Earth, wherewith I am able to helpe my felfe againfle the 

12 common Lawe of Men, when neceflity doth feme: fpecyally in 
thynges wherein I know mine eternal god to be leaft offended. For 
as thou knoweft I beynge approached as it were, euen to the Brymme 
of my Graue, and that the Tyme draweth neare for yeldynge of myne 

1 6 Accompte before the Audytor of all Audytors, I oughte therefore to 
haue fome deepe knowledge and apprehenfion of Gods iudgement 
more tha I had when the heat of inconlidered youth did boyle within 
my lufty body. Know you therefore good daughter, that with thofe 

20 graces, and fauours which the heauens prodigally haue beftowcd vpon 
me, I haue learned and proued of long time the compofition of a 
certayne Paafte, which I make of diuers foporiferous fimples, which 
beaten afterwards to Ponder, and dronke wyth a quantyty of Water, 

24 within a quarter of an houre after, bringeth the receiuer into futch a 
fleepe, and burieth fo deepely the fenfes and other fprites of life, that 
the cunningeft Phifitian will iudge the party dead : and befides that it 
hath a more maruellous effe6t, for the perfon which vfeth the fame 

28 feeleth no kinde of griefe, and according to the quantity of the dough, 
the pacient remayneth in a fweete lleepe, but when the operation is 
wrought & done, hee retumeth into his firft eftate. Now then 
lulietta receiue myne inftrudion, and put of all Feminine affedion ^^by 

^2 taking * vppon you a manly ftomacke, for by the only courage of 

*« '*& prcndu " [Brooke, 2146]. 



1%, intonsuifred] considered td. 2. 30. wrought] perfect td. I. 

2«>.2I. heauens . . . I haue] om.ed. 2. 31. and put] and om. ed. 2, Has., 

ty tpritet] sprits ed. 2. C, Hal. 



Rhomeo and lulietta. T27 

your minde confifleth the hap or mifhap of your affayres. Beholde 
here I geue you a Vyale which you ihall keepe as your owne propre 
heart, and the night before your mariage, or in the mominge before 
4 day, you fhal fil the fame vp with water, and drink fo mutch as is 
contayned therein. wA«d then you fhall feele a certayne kynde of 
pleafaunt lleepe, *' which incrochinge by litle and litle all the partes 
of your body,* wil conftrayne them in futch wyfe, as vnmoueable 
8 they fhal remayne : and by not doing their accuftomed dueties, ihall 
loofe their uaturall feelinges, and you abide in futch extafie the fpace 
of .ijo. houres at the leaft, without any beating of poulfe or other per- 
ceptible motion, which ihall fo aflonne them that come to fee you, as 

I a they will iudge you to be deade, & accordinge to the cuflome of our 
Citty, you fhal be caried to the Churchyarde hard by our Church, 
where you fhal be Intoumbed in the common monument of the 
Capellets your aunceftors, & in the meane tyme we will fend word to 

16 the Lord Rhomeo by a fpeciall melfanger of the efFe6t of our deulce, who 
now abideth at Mantua, And the night following I am fure he will 
not fayle to be heere, then he and I together will open the graue, and 
lift vp your body, and after the operation of the Ponder is pafl, hee 

ao (hall conuey you fecretly to Mantua, vnknowen to all your Parents 
and frends. Afterwards (it may be) Tyme, the mother of Truth, 
fhall caufe concord betwene the offended City of Verona and Rhomeo. 
At which time your common caufe may be made open to the generall 

34 contentacion of all your frends.'* The words of the good father 
ended, new ioy furprifed the heart of lulietta, who was fo attentiue to 
his talke as (he forgat no one poynd of hir lefTon. Then fhe fayd unto 
him : " Father, doubt not at all that my heart fhall fayle in perform- 

a8 aunce of your commaundement : For were it the fh-ongefl Poyfon, or 
mofl pefliferous Venome, rather woulde I thrufl it into my body, 
than to confent to fell in the hands of him, whom I vtterly miflike : 
With a right flrong reafon then may I fortifie my felfe, and offer my 

3a body to any kinde of mortall daunger, to approch and draw neare to 
him, vpon whom wholly dependeth my Life and all the folace I haue 

4> 'Mequel glissant pen \ peu par toutes les parties de ton corps" [Brooke, 

16. t/u Lcrd] th€ om. ed. 2, Has., 30. m] into C, Hal. 
C, Hal. 33. solace\ contentation ed. I. 



I ^8 Rhomeo and lulietta. 

in this World." " Go your wayes then my daughter " (quod the 
Frier) " the mighty hand of God keepe you, and hys furpafling power 
defende you, and confirrae that will and good mynde of yours, for the 
4 accomplifhment of this worke." lulietta departed from Frier Lau^ 
rence, and returned home to hir fathers Pallace about .i i. of the clodc, 
where (he found hir mother at the Gate attending for hir : ** And in 
good deuotion demaunded * if (hee continued flill in hir former follies? 
8 But lulietta with more gladfome cheere than fhe was wont to vfe, 
**not fufFering hir mother to aflce agayne,* fayd vnto hir : " Madame 
I come from S. Frauncis Church, where I haue taried longer perad- 
uenture than my duety requireth : How be it not without fm\6t and 

12 great reft to my affli6ted confcience, by reafon of the godly perfuafions 
of our ghoftly Father Frier Laurence, vnto whom I haue made a 
large declaration of my life. And chiefly haue communicated vnto 
him in confeflion, that which hath paft betwene my Lord my father 

1 6 and you, upon the mariage of Countee Paris and me. But the good 
man hath reconciled me by his holy words, and commendable 
exhortations, that where I had rainde neuer to mary, now I am well 
difpofed to obey your pleafuie and commaundement. Wherfore 

ao Madame I befeech you to recouer the fauor and good wyll of my 
father, afke pardon in my behalfe, and fay vnto him (if it pleafe you) 
that by obeying his Fatherly requeft, I am ready to meete the Countee 
Paris at Fillqfranco, and there in your prefence to accept him for my 

24 Lorde and hulband : In aflurance whereof, by your pacience, I meane 
to repayre into my Clofet, to make choife of my moft pretious lewels, 
that I being richly adorned, and decked, may appeare before him 
more agreeable to his mynde, and pleafure." The good mother rapt 

a8 with exceeding great ioy, was not able to aunfwere a word, but 
rather made fpeede to feeke out hir hulband the Lord Antonio, vnto 
whom (he reported the good will of hir daughter, and how by meanes 
of Frier Laurence hir minde was chaunged. Whereof the good olde 

3a man maruellous ioyfiill, prayfed Gk)d in heart, faying : " Wife this is 
not the firfte good tume which we haue receiued of that holy man, 

*» " en bone deuotion de luy demader " [Brooke, 2195]. 

** ''sans auoir patience que sa mere Tinterrogast " [Brooke, 2199]. 



5. .11.] .XI. ed. 1, Has., C, HaL 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 129 

vnto whom eaery Ciitizen ot this Common wealth is dearely bounde. 
I would to God that I had redeemed .20. of his yeares with the third 
parte of my goods, fo grieuous is to me his extreme olde age." The 
4 felfe fame houre the Lord Antonio went to feeke the Countee Paris, 
whom hee thought to perfwade to goe to Villafranco. But the 
Countee told him agayne, that the charge would be to great, and that 
better it were to referue tliat cod to the manage day, for the better 
8 celebration of the fame. Notwithfland'ng if it were his pleafure, he 
would himfelfe goe vifite lulietta : And fo they went together. The 
Mother aduerti fed of his comming, **caufed hir Daughter to make hir 
felfe ready, and to fpare no coftly lewels for adorning of hir beauty 

12 agaynft the Countees comming, which llie bellowed fo well for gamilh- 
ing of hir Perfonage,* that before the Countee parted from the houfe, 
ftiee had fo ftolne away his heart, as he liued not from that time forth, 
but vpon meditation of hir beauty, and flacked no time for acceleration 

16 of the mariage day, ceafing not to be importunate vpon father and 
mother for th'ende and cofummation thereof: And thus with ioy inough 
pafled forth this day and many others vntil the day before the mariage, 
againft which time the mother of lulietta did fo weU prouide, that 

20 there wanted nothing to fet forth the magnificence and nobility of 
their houfe. f Villtifranco whereof we haue made mention, was a 
place* of pleafure, where the Lord Antonio was wont many tymes to 
recreate himfelfe a mile or two from Verona, there the Dynner was 

^4 prepared, **for fo mutch as the ordinary folemnity of neceflity mufte be 
done at Verona.* lulietta perceyuing hir time to approache dyf- 
fembled the matter fo well as ftiee coulde : and when tyme forced hir 
to retire to hir Chamber, hir Woman would haue waited vppon hir, 

28 and haue lyen in hir Chambre, as hir cuftome was : But lulietta fayd 
vnto hir : " Good and faithfull mother, you know that to morrow is 
my maryage Day, and for that I woilld fpend the mod parte of the 
Nyght in prayer, I pray you for this time to let me alone, and to 

** ** fist preparer sa fille, k laquelle clle commanda de n'espagner ses bonnes 
graces ^ la venue du Conte, lesquelles elle sceut si bien desployer " [Brooke, 
2265—69]. 

+ Brooke in place of these four lines — "Villafranco ... at Verona"— here 
introduces the passage in which the Nurse counsels Juliet to marry Paris. Brooke, 
2288—2312. 

*• " combien que les solennitez requises deussent estre faictes ^ Veronne." 
BHOMEO. 9 



130 Rhomeo and luUetta. 

morrow in the Mornyng about .vi. of the clocke come to me 
to heipe make mee readie." The good olde woman willing to follow 
hir minde, fuffred hir alone, and doubted nothyng of that which ihe 
4 did meane to do. lulietta beinge within hir Chambre haniog an 
eawer ful of Water (landing vppon the Table filled the yiole which 
the Frier gaue her : and after fhe had made the mixture, Ihe fet it bj 
hir bed fide, and went to Bed. And being layde, new Thoughtes 
8 bt'gan to aifaile hir, with a conceipt of grieuous Death, which brought 
hir into futch cafe as (he could not tell what to doe, but plavning 
ifK liliintly fayd. ** Am not I the moft vnhappy and defperat creature, 
that euer wa.s borne of Woman ? for mee there is nothjTig left in this 

12 wretched Worlde but milhap, raifery, and mortall woe, my diftrede 
hath brought me to futch extremity, as to faue mine honor and con> 
{c'li'ucv, I am forced to deuoure the drynke whereof I know not the 
vvriui' : buf what know I (fayd Ihe) whether the Operatyon of thrs 

t6 Poudrr will be to foone or to late, or not correfpondent to the due 
tyfiH*, and that my fault being difcouered, I ihall remajme a iefting 
f|/H kr an<i Fable to the People ? What know I moreouer, if the Scr- 
iH'nin t^ oliirr venomous and crauling Wormes, whych commonly 

%rj fri-4|iicfit llie (>raue« and pittes of the Earth wyll hurt me, thynkyng 
dial I am dradc ? But howe Ihall I indure the ftynche of fo many 
1 ar'tnm and Bonei* of myne aunceftors whych reft in the Graue, jf by 
F'/ftiinr I do awake before Rhomeo and Fryer Laurence doe come to 

'*i U*'\\f iw ^ " And an ftu-e was thus plunged in the deepe contem- 
ttUtytm of thynge», fhe thought that ftie faw a certayn vifton or fanlie 
ffi h'f iUtufiu Tlulault, in the very fame fort as (hee (awe hira 
wofiti/k'd and imbrued wyth Bloud, and muftng how that (he muft be 

%H \ntru*A riuick aiiiongn fo many dead Carcafes and deadly naked bones 
\ur ii'tuUt and dclycate body began to ftiake and tremble and hir 
y#'l|/;w<t Ifxjkc* to ftare for feare, in futch wyfe as fiyghtened with 
l^ffOMfc a t'Ji\^ fweate beganne to pierce hir *^ heart, and bedewe the 



♦^ " cuir " [»kin.— Brooke, 2390. Painter confoiuids cuir with cmairJ] 



2 hrlf>/\ hflfx nueA.l. l*l'\%. itsting stacke amd\ om cxL 2, 

2. ThA 71un ed, 2. Has., C^ HaL 

12. fV&r/'M H^arm cd. 2. 30. fry giaaud\ frighted tA. I. 

16. vnU\ Ota. ed. 2. 3'- t^rr^ri\ a Urr^ureQ^ HaL 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 131 

refte of al her membres, in futch wife as fhe thought that **an hun- 
dred ihoufand Deathes * did llande about hir, haling her on eucry fide, 
and plucking her in pieces, and feelyng that hir forces diniinyilied by 
4 lyttle and lyttle, fearing that through to great debilyty flie was not 
able to do hirenterpryfe, like a furious and infenfate Woman, without 
further care, gulped vp the Water wythin the Voyal,then croHing hir 
armesvpon hir lloraacke, flie loll at that inftante all the powers of hir 
8 Body, reftyng in a Traunce. And when the morning lyght began to 
thruft his head out of his Oryent, hir Chaumber Woman which had 
lockte hir in with the Key, did open the doore, and thynkyng to 
awake hir, called her many tymes, and fayde vnto hir : " Miftrelfe, 

12 you fleepe to long, the Counte Paris will come to raife you." *^Ti»e 
poore olde Woman fpake vnto the Wall, and fage a fong vnto the 
deafe.* For if all the horrible and tempeftuous foundes of the world 
had bene canoned forth out of the greateft bombardes, and founded 

16 through hir delycate Eares, hir fpyrites of Lyfe were fo fall bounde 
and llopt, as (he by no meanes coulde awake, wherewith the pore olde 
Woman amazed, began to fliake hir by the armes and Handes, whych 
ihe found fo colde as marble ftone. Then putiyng Hande vnto hir 

20 Mouthe, fodainely perceyued that fhe was deade, for fliee perceyued 
no breath in hir. Wherefore lyke a Woman out of hir Wyttc*s, fhee 
ranne to tell hir Mother, who fo madde as a Tigre bereftc of hir 
*^faues hied hir felfe into hir Daughters Chaumber, and in that pitiful 

24 (late beholdynge hir Daughter, thynkyng hir to be deade, cried out : 
*' Ah cruell Death, which had ended all my ioye and Blyflcj vfe the 
lad fcourge of thy Wrathfull ire agaynft me, lead by fufferyng mee to 
lyue the red of my woefull Dayes, my Torment doe increafe : " then 

28 die began to fetch futch drayning fighes, as hir heart did feeme to 
cleaue in pieces. And as hir cries began to encreafe, behold the 
Father, the County Paris, and a great trou}^ of Gentlemen and 

*• ** vne infinite de morts" [A thousand bodies dead. — Brooke, 2393]. 
*• " La pauure femme chantoit au sourds" [Brooke, 2409-10. Here again it 
seems probable that Painter consulted Brooke's poem.] 
*» **faons" [whelpes, Brooke, 2425]. 

8. restyng\ and remained ^. I. 23. faues\ faunes Has. faons ed. I, 

15. canoned\ cannonised ed. 2. can- C, Hal. 
noned Has., C, Hal. 25-26. the last] thy last eA. i. 



1^2 Rhomeo and lulietta. 

Ladies, which were come to honour the feafte, hearing no fooner tell 
of that which chaunced, were ftroke into futch forrowfiil] dumpes as 
he which had beheld their Faces would eafily have iudged that the 
4 fame had ben a day of ire and pity, fpecially the Lord Antonio, whofe 
heart was Trapped with futch furpaflingwoe, as neither teare nor word 
could ilfue forth, & knowing not what to doe, ftraight way fent to 
feeke the mofl expert Phifitians of the towne, who after they had 
8 inquired of the life pad of lulietta, ^Meemed by common reporte,* 
that melancoly was the caufe of that fodayne death, & then their forows 
began to renue a frefli. And if euer day was Lamentable, Piteous, 
Unhappy, and Fatall, truly it was that wherein lulietta hir death was 

12 publilhed in Verona : For fliee was fo bewayled of great and fmall, 
that by the comon playnts, the Common weahh feemed to be in 
daunger, and not without caufe. For befides hir naturall beauty 
(accompanied with many vertues wherewith nature had enriched hir) 

i6 (he was elfe fo humble, wife and debonaire, as for that humiHty and 
curtefie fhe had ftollen away the hearts of euery wight, and there was 
none but did lament hir Miffortune. And whileft thefe thingeswere 
in this lamented (late. Frier Laurence with diligence difpatched a Frier 

20 of his Couent, named Frier Anselme, whom hee trufted as himfelfe, 
and dehuered him a Letter written with hys owne hande, commaund- 
ing him exprelfely not to giue the fame to any other but to Rhomeo, 
wherein was conteyned the chaunce which had pafled betwene him 

24 and lulietta, fpecially the vertue of the Pouder, ^^and commaunded 
him * the nexte enfuinge Nighte to fpeede himfelfe to Verona, for 
that the operation of the Pouder that time would take ende, and that 
he (hould cary wyth him back agayne to Mantua his beloued lulietta, 

28 in diflembled apparell, vntill Fortune had otherwife prouided for them. 
The frier made futch haft as (too late) hee arriued at Mantua, within 
a while after. And bicaufe the maner of Italy is, that the Frier 
trauayling abroade ought to take a companion of his Couent to doe 

32 his altaires wythin the City, the Fryer went into his couent, and for 

that he was within, it was not lawfull for him to come oute againe 

»i *'iugercnt d'vn commun raport" [they judge with one assent. — Brooke, 2456]. 
" ** et luy mandoit " [he willeth him. — Brooke, 2479]. 

29. too] to ed. 2. 32-33. and . . . within] but bicauseh€ 

was etitred in ed. I . 



Wiomeo and lulieita, 133 

that Day, bicaufe that certayn Dayes before, one relygioiis of that 
couent as it was fayd, dyd dye of the Phigue. Wherefore the Magif- 
trates appoyiited for the health and vifitation of the fick, commaunded 
4 the Warden of tlie Houfe that no Friers fhould wader abrode the 
City, or talke wiih any Citizen, vntill they were licenfed by the 
officers in that behalfe appoynted, which was ye caufe of the great 
mifhap, which you Ihal heare hereafter. The Frier being in this 
8 perplexitye, not able to goe forth, and not knowyng what was con- 
tayned in the Letter, *' deferred hys lomey for that Day.* Whilft 
things were in thys plyght, preparation was made at Verona, to doe 
the obfequies of Juliet ta. There is a cuftome alfo (whych is common 

12 in Italy), to laye all the beft of one lignage and Familye in one 
Tombe, wherevppon lulietla was intoumbed in the ordinary Graue of 
the Capellettes, in a Churcheyarde, hard by the Churche of the 
Fryers, where alfo the Lord Tkibault was interred. And hir 

16 Obfequies honorably done, euery man returned: *^whereuto Pictro, 
the feruat of Rhomeo, gaiie hys allyftace.* For as we haue before 
declared, hys Mayfler fente hyra backe agayne from Mantua to 
Verona, to do his Father feruice, and to aduertife him of that which 

20 fhould chauuce in hysabfence there : who feeyng the body of Juliet ta, 
inclofed in Toumbe, thinkyng with the refte that (hee had bene dead 
in deede, incontinently tooke pofte horfe, and with dylygence rode to 
Mantua, where he founde his Mayfler in his wonted houfe, to whome 

24 he fayde, wyth hys Eyes full of Teares : " Syr, there is chaunced vnto 
you fo ftraunge a matter as if fo be you do not arme your felfe with 
Conflancye, I am afrayd that I (hall be the .cruell minyfler of your 
Death, Be it known vnto you fir, that yeflerday morning my mif- 

28 trefTe Julietta left hir Lyfe in thys Worlde to feeke refl in an other: 

and wyth thefe Eyes I faw hir buryed in the Churchyarde of S, 

Frauncis" At the founde of whych heauye Meffage, Rhomeo began n 

woefullye to Lamente, as thoughe hys Spyrites gryeued wyth the 

^ ** voulut diffcrer pour ce iour " [Brooke, 2502]. 

•* "ausquelles Pierre seruiteurde Rhomeo auoit assist^ " [Brooke, 2526-28]. 

1. bicause]far ^.l. 13. in/oumbfd] laydd ed. I. 

2. Af //mw] Af om. C, Hal. I5- interred. And hir\ interrfd 

11. fl customi\ a om. C, Hal. whose ed. 2. interred, whose Has., C, 

12. laye'\ place ed. I, C, Hal. Hal. 

13. wh^evppon'\ wherby ed. I. 



x 






Rkojneo and lulietta. 



135 



as hys maifter had requyred, and made theriii futcli expedityo, as he 
arriued in good time to Ferona, taking order for al things that wer 
comaunded him. Rhomeo in the meane while beyng folycyted wyth 
4 mortal! thoughtes caufed incke and paper to be broughte vnto hym, 
and in few words put in wryting all the difcourfe of his loue, the 
mariage of him and lulietta, the meane obferued for confummation 
of the fame, the helpe that he had of Frier Laurence, the buying of 
8 his Poyfon, and laft of all his death. Afterwardes hauing finifhed his 
heauy tragedy, hee clofed the letters, and fealed the fame with his 
feale, and dire^ed the Superfcription thereof to hys Father : and 
puttynge the letters into his purfle, he mounted on horfebacke, and 

12 vfed futch dylygence, as he arriued vppon darke Nyght at the Citye 
of Verona, before the gates were fliut, where he founde his fervuante, 
tarying for hym with a Lanterne and inftrumentes as is before fayd, 
meete for the opening of the graue, vnto whome hee faid : " Pietro, 

16 helpe mee to open this Tombe, and fo foone as it is open I com- 
maunde thee vppon payne of thy life, not to come neere mee, nor to 
ftay me from the thing I purpofe to doe. Beholde, there is a letter which 
tliou fhalt prefcnt to morrow in the mornyng to my Father at his 

20 vpryfing, which peraduenture Ihall pleafe him better than thou 
thinkeft." Pietro, not able to imagine what was his maiders intent, 
ftode fomewhat aloofe to beholde his maiflers gefles and Countenance. 
And when they had opened the Vaulte, Rhomeo defcended downe two 

24 fteppes, holdyng the candel in his hand and began to behold wyth 
pityfuU Eye, the body of hir, which was the organ of his lyfe, and 
waQit the fame with the teares of his Eyes, and kyft it tenderly, 
holdyng it harde betwen his Armes, and not able to fatifiie him felfe 

28 with hir fight, put hys fearefull handes vppon the colde ftomacke of 
lulietta. And after he had touched her in many places, and not able 
to feele anye certayne ludgemeute of Lyfe, he drewe the Poyfon out 
of hys Boxe, and fwallowyng downe a great quantytye of the fame, 

32 cryed out : " O lulietta, of whome the Worlde was vnworthye, what 
Death is it polTyble my Hearte coulde choofe oute more agreeable 
than that whych yt fuiFereth harde by thee? What Graue more 



I. 



I. requyred'\ commaundfd hym ed. 
12 as\ thai td.. I. 



25-6. organ . . . Eyes] organ of his 
Eyes ed. 2, Has., C, Hal. 



Rhomeo and lulietta, 137 

tnat Rhomeo was within^ and had not ceafed there to Lamente and 
Complayne the fpace of halfe an Houre. And when thej two were 
entred the Graue and finding Rhomeo without Lyfe, made futch 
4 forrowe as they can well conceyve whych Loue their dear Fryeude 
wyth lyke perfe6Hon. And as they were making theyr c5plaints, 
lulietta riling out of hir traunce, & beholding light within ye Toumbe, 
vncertayne wheather it were a dreame or fantafie that appeared before 
8 hir eyes, comraing agayne to hir felfe, knew Frier Laurence, vnto 
whom fhe fayd : ^ " Father, I pray thee in the name of God to per- 
fouime thy promife, for I am almofl deade." • And then Frier 
Laurence concealing nothing from hir, (bycaufe he feared to be taken 

12 through his to long abode in that place) faythfully rehearfed vnto hir, 
how he had fent Frier Anfelme to Rhomeo at Mantua, from whom as 
yet hee had receyued no aunfwere. Notwithftaading he found 
Rhomeo dead in the graue, whofe body he poynded vnto, lyinge hard 

16 by hir, praying hir fi th it was fo, paciently to beare that fodayne mif- 
fortune, and that if it pleafed hir, he would conuey hir into fome 
monaHery of women where Ihe might in time moderate hir forrow, 
and giue reH vnto hir minde. lulietta had no fooner cafl eye vppon 

20 the deade corps of Rhomeo, but ^ began to breake the fountayne pipes 
of gufhing teares,* which ran forth in futch aboundance, as not able 
to fupport the furor of hir griefe, ®^ fhe breathed without ceafiug vpon 
his mouth,* and then throwing hir felfe vppon his body, and em- 

24 bracing it very hard, feemed that by force of fighes and fobs, she 
would haue reuiued, and brought him againe to life, & after (he had 
kilTed and rekiffed hym a million of times, Ihe cried out : " Ah the 
fweete reft of my cares, & the onely port of all my pleafures and 

28 paftimes, hadft thou fo fure a hearte to choofe ®'thy Churchyarde * in 
this place betwene the armes of thy perfe6t Louer, and to ende the 
courfe of thy life for my fake in the floure of thy Youth when lyfe 

*• " Pere ie vous prie au nom de Dieu, asseurez moy de vostre parolle : car ie 
suis toute esperdue" [Brooke, 2710]. 
•> •* coramen9a 4 destoupper la bonde k ses larmes " [Brooke, 2723]. 
•* " elle halletoit sans cesse sur sa bouche '* [Brooke, 2727]. 
•* ** ton cymetiere " [Brooke, 2736]. 



8. hir eyes] his eyes Has., C, Hal. C, Hal. 
23. throwing] throwen ed. 2, Has., 28-9. in this] this in C, Hal. 



- nas jBt _i 



p**. 



H..^«r iud this 
JT j=ii-- " .-•::rT death 
j=r jc.i dci:ca*e 



.aXi 



r=. zi^'i. siii at :3e :rvLiun: of 
jk. -i-SL *^^ »=ar TTt*m-^ -Ft-i'^ I now 



'.zt x-i.fr ±j- hath 



. 3= X "r:mi£ •: it x_.i 'crr-'Lr ■ 't— res ^'iir eticr was 






r- ^ -r— ;^ IT* rrr-.4:l »■ -srarrsri. tira^ :%. be taken. 

i. — *yr — ■ r-.*; ..i'UK. ^CL.. z 'III — 1'^' - .:.n:ke ajavne 

— c--^ ;_ j-rss". - '"^-'-^ i:z: i"::! .iinit aftctioa. as ihe 

- -r.-i— ^-r-rrn*^ «: \z. -'.-^ Hill .'rTr'\ £Xti dra'siiig out 

■-..jwi T:=;7r "* r^ ■'-^, *"i3t Trrtii-i lir irlie with 

. ^ ^. _.tfc -r c^-r-.' - *V^ ^'-^ "L-sCitf X ptlffil voice : 

; , . - %, ; tstT-- "-ii '^ "tiitiT^. lioc art nioft 

:> ~ -I . . .:* -^ ■- ita^Tto. -1/ ijrt : giue no 

rti-r .4JL ;■• »--.c ramrje oo: to tinde 

, , _., ..^^. ..-. • .~f L .-*-.- -vrrufs.* Aod tbou mj 

. :.-. , -• ■» - • -':^^^ "^i z: "Jk* anr know- 









; ■- ■' 



u ,.t> .?*«;• .« i^e- r* ir»* «b«<cts d'ire & de 



"_ \_\ ^^j,^, .u.-.*.*!^ oAl*'«^ *i TMBK a» oKor*' [Brooke, 



-NJ 



•*d •• 



, . ^ -i-v^ile 4 r*j%tuer csixtr^ hkni Rhomeo, 



£.-^^v, •> •-.>^. 



I 



Rhomeo and lulietta. 139 

ledge, receyue hir whom thou haft lb faythfully loued, the onely 
caule of thy violent death, which frankley offreth vp hir ibule that 
none but thou Ihalt ioy tlie loue whereof thou haft made fo law full 
4 conqueft, and that our foules palling from this Hght, may eternally 
Hue together in the place of euerlailing ioy : " And when Ihe had 
ended tliofe wordes Ihee yelded vp hir ghoft. While thefe thinges 
thus were done, the garde and watch of the Citty, by chaunce palled 
8 by, and -feeing light within the graue, fufpe6ted ftraight that there 
were fome Necromancers which had opened the Toumbe to abufe 
the deade bodies for ayde of their arte : And defirous to knowe what 
it ment, went downe into the vaut, where they found Rhomeo and 

I a lulietta, with their armes imbracing ech others neck, as though there 
had bene fome token of lyfe. And after they had well viewed them 
at leyfure, they perceyued in what cafe they were. And then all 
amazed they fought for ye Theeues which (as they thought) had done 

16 the murther, and in the ende founde the good Father Fryer Laurence, 
and Pietro the Servaunte of deade Rhomeo (whych had hid themfelues 
vnder a ftall) whom they caryed to Pryfou, & aduertyfed the Lord of 
Efcala, and the Magittrates of Ferona of that horrible murder, which 

20 by and by was publilhed throughoute the City. Then ftocked to- 
gether al the Citizens^ women and children^ leaning their houfes, to 
loke vppon that pityful fighte : and to the Ende that in prefence of the 
whole Cytie, the murder Ihould b^ knowne, the Magiftrates ordayned 

24 that the two Deade bodies Ihould be erefted vppon a ftage to the view 
and light of the whole World, in futch forte and manner as they were 
founde withyn the Graue, and that Pietro and Frier Laurence Ihould 
publikely bee examyned, that afterwardes there myght be no mur- 

28 mure or other pretended caufe of ignoraunce. And thys good olde 
Frier beynge vppon the ScalFold, hauynge a whyte Bearde all wet and 
bathed with Teares, the ludges commaunded him to declare vnto 
them who were the Authors of that Murder, lith at vntimely houre 

32 hee was apprehended with certayne Irons belides the graue. Fryer 

Laurence, a rounde and franke Man of talke^ nothyng moued with that 

acculation, anfwered them with ftoute and bolde voyce : " My maifters, 

there is none of you all (if you haue refpeS. vnto my forepalled Life, 

8-9. /A^r^ «wr sofm] they were ed. I. 34 anrwered\ sayd vnto ed. I. 

14 perceyued^ knew ed. I. 



te-^ * 



Rkomeo and luUetta, 



141 



witnefTe, and the hangman, whych, by reafon of mine age and the 
reputation I haue had amonges you, and the little time that I haue to 
Hue in this World, (houlde more torment me within, than all the 
4 mortal 1 paynes that coulde be deuifed : but (thankes be to myne 
eternall God) I feele no Worme that gnaweth, nor any remorfe 
that pricketh me touching that fad, for which I fee you all troubled 
and amazed. And to fet your harts at reft, and to remoue 
8 the doubts which hereafter may torment your confciences, I fweare 
vnto you by all the heauenly parts wherein I hope to be, that forth- 
with I will difclofe from firft to laft the entire difcourfe of this pitifull 
Tragedy, whych peraduenture fhall driue you into no lefle wondre 

12 and amaze, than thofe two poore paflionate Louers were flrong and 
pacient, to expone themfelues to the mercy of death, for the feruent 
and indiflbluble loue betwene them." Then the Fatherly Frier 
began to repeate the beginning of the loue betwene luUetta, and 

16 Rhomeo, which by certayne fpace of time confirmed, was profecuted 
by wordes at the firfl, then by mutual promife of manage, ^vnknown 
to the world.* And as within few dayes after, the two Louers feel- 
inge themfelues fharpned & incited with ftronger onfet, repaired vnto 

20 him vnder colour of confellion, protefting by othe that they were 
both maried, and that if he woulde not folempnize that manage in 
the face of the Church, they fhould be conflrayned to offend God to 
live in difordreJ luft. In confideration whereof, and fpecially feeing 

24 their alliaunce to be good, and conformable in dignity, richefle and 
Nobility on both fides, hoping by that meanes perchaunce to reconcile 
the Montefches, and Capellets, ®^and that by doing futch an acceptable 
worke to God,* he gaue the ye churches blefling in a certayne 

28 Chappel of ye friers church whereof ye night following they did con- 
fumate ye mariage fi^uicts in the Pallace of the Capellets, For tefti- 
mony of which copulation, ye woma of luliettaes Chaber was able to 
depofe : Adding moreouer, ye murder of Thibault, which was Coufin 

32 to lulietta : By reafon whereof the banifhment of Rhomeo did followe, 
and howe in the abfence of the fayd Rhomeo, the mariage being kept 

* ** sans qu'il en sceust rien." 

•• "ct faire oeunre agrcable k Dicu " [Brooke, 2931]. 



24. conformable] comfortable cd. 2, 
Has., C, Hal. 



26. acceptable] exceptabU ed. 2. 



Rhojneo and Iidictla, 143 

opened, they founde the whole efFe<5t of this ftory, fpecially the 
Apothecaries name, which fold him the Poyfon, the price, and the 
caufe wherefore he vfed it, and all appeared to be fo cleare and 
4 euident, as there relied nothing for further veritication of the fame, 
but their prefence at the doing of the particulers thereof, for the 
whole was fo well declared in order, as they were out of doubt that 
the fame was true. And then the Lord Bartlwlomeiv of Efcala, 
8 ^^ after he had debated with the Magiftrates of thefe euents, decreed 
that the Woman of lulietta hir Chamber fhould bee baniftied, becaufe 
fliee did conceale that priuy mariage from the Father of Rhomeo, 
which if it had beene knowne in tyme, had bred to the whole Citty 

12 an vniverfall benefit. Pietro becaufe he obeyed hys Mayfters com- 
niaunderaent, and kept clofe hys lawfull fecrets, according to the well 
conditioned nature of a trufty servaunt, was fet at liberty. The 
Poticary taken, rackt, and founde guilty, was hanged. The good 

16 olde man Frier Laurence^ as well for refpe^ of his auncient feruice 
which he had done to the comon wealth of Ferona, as alfo for his 
vertuous life (for the which hee was fpecially recommended) was let 
goe in peace, without any note of Infamy. Notwithftanding by reafou 

20 of his age, he voluntarily gaue ouer the World, and clofed himfelfe in 
an Hermitage, two miles from Verona, where he lined .5. or .6. 
yeares, and fpent hys tyme in cotinuall prayer, vntill he was called out 
of this tranfitory worlde, into the blifFull (late of euerlafting joy. And 

24 for the companion of fo (Iraunge an infortune, the Montefches, and 
Capellets poured forth futch abundaunce of teares, as with the fame 
they did euacuate their auncient grudge and choler, whereby they 
were then reconciled. And they which coulde not bee brought to 

28 attonement by any wifedome or humayne councell, were in the ende 
vanquifhed and made frends by pity. And to immortalizate the 
memory of fo in tier and perfe6t amity, the Lord of Verona ordayned, 
that the two bodies of thofe miraculous Louers fhould be fad in- 

32 toubed in the graue where they ended their lyues, '^in which place 
was ere6led a high marble Filler,* honoured with an infinite 

''^ " qui commandait de cc temps 14 k Veronne." 

'* *' qui fut erige sur une haulte colonne dc marbre " [Brooke, 3014]. 

32. in which ^ce] whtre ed. i. 



144 Rhomeo and luUetta, 

number of excellent Epytaphes, which to this day be 
apparaunt, with futch noble memory, as amongs 
all the rare excellencies, wherewith that City 
4 is furnifhed, there is none more Famous 

than the Monument of Rhomeo 
and lulietta, 

3. thai City] the City ed. I. 



JOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS. 



^y 



€\)t foljfltbtiyf llttWicatioitt of Vitjhnv' Sliakspere Society 

HAVE BEEN ISSUED FOB 1874 : 

Series I. Trajisactions : 1. The New Shakspere Society's Transactions, Part I, containing four 
Papers by the ilev. F. Or. Fleay, M.A*., with Reports of the Discussions on them, a Table of 
the Quarto Editions of Sliakspere's Works, 1593-1G30, and a print of the genuine Parts of 
7!?;i»;innl P'v/"/^?; with /ni* XpiwidiK eofitainiri-j;, I. Mr James SpeddingV Paper on the 
.s'»\t";ii v|iir-,»s ')!' S:i\!<sim:!ik aiil Fi.KrciiEii in Ilenrif Vllly with the late Mr S. Hickson's, 
Mr Kieivy's, and Mr Funiivall's iuilepeiident conlirmatioiis of Mr Spedding's results. 2. The 
late Mr S. Ilickson's Paper on the several shares of Shakspere and Fletcher (when young) 
in the Tioo Noble Kins men, ,vi!\t\\ Mr Fleay*8 and Mr Furnivairs Notes, and Tables of Metrical 
Tests, confirming Mr Hickson's results. 

Series II. Plaiji: 1^ A PaKallel-Text Eliti6n of the first two Quartos o( Ropteo andJuliet, 1597 and 
1599, arranged so as to show their DirtcTences, and with Collations of all the Quartos and 
Folios, edited by P. A. Daniel, Esq. - ' 

This Edition is presented to the Society hi/ Jl. &, 11. Prince Leopold, one of its Vice- Presidents. 
2, 3. The First two Quartos of Romeo and Juliet, 1597 and 1599 : simple Eeprints, edited hy 
P. A. Daniel, Esq^ 

Series IV. Shakspere Allusion-Books, Part 1. a, Greenes Groatesworth of Wit [written in 
1592], 1590 ; b, Henry Chettle's * Kind-Harts Dreame ' [written in 1593] ; c. ' Englandes 
Mourning Garment* [1603]; d. A Mourneful Dittio, entituled Elizabeths Losse, together 
with A Welcome for King James [1G03] ; e. extracts from * Willobte his Avisa; Or the 
true Picture of a Mo^lest Maid, and of ^ Chast and constant wifeV 1594; \/r extracts from 
Marston, Carew, &c. ; g. Gabriel Harvey's ll^ird Letter, frbni hi's * Foufe Letters and certaine 
Sonnets,' 1592; A. Evfe Sections, — Poetrie ;^ Po^s ; Cofnparativd. iJiscourse ^f^sour English 
Poets, with the Greeke, Latine, and Italian Poets; Painters; Musique; — from Francis 
Meres's Palladis Tamia, 1598, &c. Ac. ; edited by G. Mansfield Ingleby, Esq., LL.D. 

Dr Inglebif presented to every Member of the Society who had paid his Subscription hy 
Nov, 7, 1874, a copy of his Still Lion, an attempt to establish a Science of Criticism of 
Shakspere's Text, Mr Furnitall also presented to every Member a copy of his Introduction to 
Gervinus*8 Commentaries. 

The foHowing Publications have been issued for 1875 : ^\ : - ^ • 

Series 11. Plays: 4. A revised Edition of the second, or 1599, Quarto of Romeo and Juliet^ 
collated with the other Qiiartos and the Folios; edited by P: A. Daniel, Esq. 
6, 6. Henry V: a. Facsimile Keprints of the Quarto and First Folio, edited by Brinsley 
Nicholson, M.D. / 

Series I. Transactions, 2, 3. 1871', Part IT ; 1875, Part I, Containing Papers by Messrs Ha]e8, Fleay, 
Simpson, and Spcdding, and Professors Ingram and Delius, with Reports of the Discussions on 
them. 

Series III. Originals and Analogues. 1. Part I. a. The Traglcall Historye of Romeus and Juliet, 
written first in Italian by Bandell, and nowe in Englishe by Ar[thur] Brfooke], 1562; 
edited by P. A. Daniel, Esq. b. The goodly hystory of the true and constant loue between 
Rhomeo and Julietta ; from Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 1567 ; edited by P. A. Daniel, Esq. 
Mr Halliwell has presented to every Member a copy of Mr A, II, Pagefs " Shakespeare's 
Plays: a Chapter of Stage 'History-.'* . 

The following Publications of the Neuo Shakspere Society are in the Press: 

Series II. Plays: 7, 8. Henry V : b. Parallel-Texts of the Quarto and First Folio, arranged so 
as to show their differences ; c. a revised edition of the Play ; the whole edited by Brinsley 
Nicholson, M.D. 
9, 10. TJie Two Noble Kinsmen, by Shakspere and Fletcher ; a. A Reprint of the Quarto of 1636 ; 
b, a revised Edition, with Introduction, Notes, and Glossarial Index of all the words, 
distinguishing Shakspere's from Bleteher'S,:Uy Harold Littledale, Esq., Trinity College, 
Dublin. . , _ 

11. Cymbeline: a. A Reprint of the Folio of 1623; h. a revised Edition with Introduction 
and Notes, by AV. J. Craig, Esq., M.A., Triuity College, Dublin. . . 

VI. Shakspere's England, 1. William Harrison's description of England^ 1577, 1587, edited 
from its two versions by Fredk. J. Furnivall, Esq., M.A. Part I. 



NEW SHAKSPEEE SOCIETY. 



LIST OF PAPERS 

TO BE READ AT THE NEW SHAKSPERE SOCIETT'S MEETINGS, AT UNI- 
VERSITY COLLEGE, QOWER ST., W.C, ON THE SECOND FRIDAY Of 
EYEBY MONTH, FROM OCTOBER, 1875, TO JUNE, 1876, AT 8 P.M. 

October 8, 1875. "Notes on Mr Daniel's Theory of the Relation 
between the first and second Quartos of Borneo and Juliet ^ ; " 
by James Spedding, Esq., M.A., Hon. Fellow, Trin.^CQlL, 
Camb. 

November 12, 1875. "On the Three Ilamhts;'' by Richard 
Simpson, Esq., B.A. 

December 10, 1875. I. "On the Dedication of Sliakspere's 
Sonnets ; " and II. " On Sliakspero's use of the word season ; " 
by C. M. IxGLEBY, Esq., Ph.D. III. " On the Play of Edtoard 
IIL^ ; " by F. J. Furnivall, Esq., ^LA. 

January U, 1876. "On the Play of Ci/mheline;" by J. W. 
Craig, Esq., M.A. 

February 11, 1876. "On some of Shakspere's Names;" by J. 
W. Hales, Esq., M.A. 

March 10, 1876. " On Ben Jonson ; " by Lieut.-Col. Cunningham. 

April 28, 1876. "On the Epic Elements in Shakspere's Plays;" 
by Prof. Delius, Ph.D. 

May 12, 1876. "Some Preliminary Remarks on Shakspcre's Son- 
nets ; " by Brinsley Nicholson, Esq., M.D. 

June 9, 1876. Perhaps a Paper on some Political Allusions in 
Massinger. 

Papers have also been promised, sooner or later, by 
Prof. Ingram, on the Speech-ending Test. 
Prof. H. Corson, on Shaks^xire's Versification. 
Prof. Leo : Notes and Emendations. 

Dr Abbott, on the last Scene of the Two Gentlemen of Verona, 
Dr Inoleby, (m ^Misprinted Pronouns in Shakspere. 
Rev. A. B. Grosart, on Shaksi>cre*8 Sonnets. 
Miss Jane Lee, on the three Parts of Henry VL 

Offers of other Papers, and of Scraps, are desired, and shoidd be 
made to the Director, Mr Furnivall, 3, St George's Square, Primrose 
Hill, London, N.W. The Committee can appoint the 4th Friday of 
any month for the reading of any extra Paper tliat they approve. 

* The Parallel-Text and revised editions by Mr Daniel should be brought 
to the Meeting. 

* A Copy can ]>e had (with 4 other Plays) for 1«. M. in the Douhlful 
Plays of Shakspere in the Tauchnitz Series. Apply to Triibner, Asher, Wil- 
liams and Norgate, or any foreign bookseller. 



(with the 
ontention, 

•^olio, with 
Lear, Qi : 
hello, four 

Merchant 

chard II; 

ssible, the 
e's Chron- 
iVB. Also 
dra,' * The 

9 plots of 

and Folio 
^en in the 

(see The 

Harvey's), 

; Locrine; 
t; certainly 
'?he Merry 
3dy; Faire 
of Thomas 
tlester and 

:he quarrel 



ers, PlaySf 



cc relating 
Univ. Colh 
Overthrow 
Gentilis's 
inov. 1659. 

hoenix and 

whom the 

iter's poem 

illiwell). 

ife Examin- 
Daiffy I58I ; 
1-, M.A. 

MS. 133, 
Mysteries^ 

*e that may 
S. Thomas 
lis ' A short 



View of Tragedy of the last Age *, 1008. 



Series 1 

Ti>n 

Mr 

late 
in t 
Tes 

Series C 
1591 

Foil 

2,3. 

Series V, 
1592 
Moa 
with 
true 
Man 
Sona 
Poet 
Merc 
Dt 
Nov. 
Shak 
QtJrv 

Th 

Series IL 

collat 
5, 6. 1. 

m 

Series L . 

Simpi 
them 

Series III 

writt< 
edited 
Bhom 
Mr 
Plays 

The 

Series II. 
as to 
Nicho 
9, 10. i? 
h 

I 
ai 
irpm •«• tftov fvmou* wj j.n;M.iv^i(*.-f imUYall, iSsq.i' M.A. irart !• 



The followiog works have been suggested fer publication : — 
l,_Parallel Texts of the imperfect sketches of b. Hamlet, and its Quarto 2 (with the 
• /• Foli6 and a reviifed Text) ; c. Merrj Wives of Windsor, and Folio i ; d. The Contention, 
c .;• . ajkd Henry VI, Part 2/ in Fi ; The True Tragedy, and Henry VI, J'art 3, in Fi. 

2. Parallel Texts of the following Quarto Plays and their versions in the First Folio, with 

collations i Kichard III, Qi ; 2 Henry IV, Qr ; Troilus and Cressida, Qi ; Lear, Qi : 
to show the relations of the Folio text to that of the previous editions. Of Othello, four 
Texts, Qi, Qa, Fi, and a revised Text. 

3. Parallel Texts of the two earliest Quartos of Midsummer Night's Dream, and Merchant 

of Venice ; to show which edition is the better basis for a revised text. 

4. The First Quartos of Much Ado about Nothing; Loues Labour's Lost; Bichard II; 

1 Henry IV; from which the copies in the Folio were printed. 

Beprints in Quarto of the remaining Folio Plays, with collations. When possible, the 
passages which Slmkspore used from Nortli's Plutarch, Holinshed's.and Halle's Chron- 
icles, <&c., will be printed opposite the texts of his Eoman and Historical Plays. Also 
the plots of the old plays of. * The Taming of a Shrew,* * Promos and Cassandra,* * The 
troublesome raigne of King John,' Ac, will be printed parallel with the plots of 
Shakspere*s Plays that were founded on them. In all Biepriiits of Quarto and Folio 
editions of Shakspere*B Plays, the numbers of act, scene, and line, will be given in -the 
margin, so as to make the books handy to w^ork with. 

Series V. The Contemporary Drama. Works suggested by Mr liichard Simpson (see The 
, Academy, Jan. 31, 1874, p. 120-1 :) — 

a, tte Works of llobert Greene, Thomas Nash (with a selection from Gabriel Harvey's), 
Thomas Lodge, and Henry Chettle. 

h. The Arraignment of Paris (Peelers) ; Arden of Feversham ; George-a- Greene ; Locrine ; 
King Edward III (of which Act ii. is by a diflferent hand, and that, almost certainly 
, Shakspere'g) ; Mucedorus ; Sir John Oldcastle ; Thomas Lord Cromwell ; The Merry 
Devil of Edmonton; The London Prodigal; The Puritan; A Yorkshire Tragedy; Faire 
Em; The Birth of Merlin; The Siege of Antwerp; The Life and Death of Thomas. 
Stucley ; A Warning to Fair Women. (Perhaps *The Prodigal Son,' and * Hester and 
Ahaaueru^,': extant in German Translations.) 

c. The Martiniat and Anti-Martinist Plays of 1589-91 ; and the Plays relating to the quarrel 

between Dekker and Jonson in IG06. . 

d. Lists of all the Companies of Actors in Suakspere's time, their Directors, Players, Plays, 

and Poetfi. 

e. Dr Wra. Gager's Mcleager, a tragedy, priuted Oct. 1592 (with the correspondence relating 

to it between Dr Gager of Christ Church, and Dr John Reynolds of Corpus (Univ. Coll. 
Oxf. MS. J. 18; and at Corpus). Also, Reynolds's rejoinder in 1593, *The Overthrow 
of Stage Plays,' &c., with the letters between him and Geutilis. Also, Gentilis's 
VDispiitatio de Actoribus et Spectatoribus Fabularum non notandis.' Hannov. 1659. 
And * Fuciis sivo Ilistriomastix ' (a play against Reynolds), Lambeth MS. 838). 

' '/.Robert Chester's Love's Martyi* — from which Shakspcre's lines to the 'Phoenix and 
Turtle * were taken — with an Introduction showing who Salisbury was, to whom the 
Chorus Vatum dedicates the book ; and showing the relation between Chester's poem 
and Shakspcre's Cymbeline, 
Richard II, and the other Plays in Egcrton MS. 1994 (suggested by IMr J. O. Hal li well). 

The Retur^e from Pernassus, IGOG; to be edited by the Rev. A. B. Grosart. 

» • -. 

Series VI. Edward Hake's Touchsione, 1574; William Stafford's Compendious or brief e Examin- 
a/ion of certeyne ordinary Complaints of divers of our Count reymen, in these our Days, 1581 ; 
and Thomas -Powell's Tom of all Trades, 1631 ; edited by F. J. Furnivall, Esq., M.A. 

Series VII. Mysteries^ ^c. Ancient Mysteries, with a Morality, from the Digby MS. 133, 
re-edited from the unique MS. by the Rev. W. W. Skeat, M.A., The Towneley Mysteries^ 
re-edited from the unique MS. by the Rev. Richard Morris, LL.D. 

Series VIII. MisceVan^us. Autotypes of the parts of the Play of Sir Thomas More that may 
possibly be in young Sdakspere's handwriting, from the Harleian MS. 7368. Thomai 
Ky mer'a ' Tragedies of the last Age considered and examined ', 1673, 1692 ; and his ' A shor 
View of Tragedy of the last Age ', 1603. 









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