At length doth Juliet heave 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,

"Why dost thou trouble me, (quoth she,) what draue thee, (with mischaunce,)

To come to see my sprite forsake my bretheles corse?

Go hence, and let me dye, if thou haue on my smart remorse.
For who would see her frend to liue in dedly payne?
Alas! I see my greefe begoone for euer will remayne.
Or who would seeke to liue, all pleasure being past?

My myrth is donne, my moorning mone for ay is like to last.
Wherefore since that there is none other remedy,

Comme gentle death, and ryue my hart at once, and let my dye."

The nurce with tricling teares, to witnes inward smart,
With holow sigh fetchd from the depth of her appauled hart,
Thus spake to Juliet, y-clad with ougly care:

"Good lady myne, I do not know what makes you thus to fare;

Ne yet the cause of your vnmeasurde heauiness.

But of this one I you assure, for care and sorowes stresse,
This hower large and more I thought, (so God me saue,)
That my dead corps should wayte on yours to your vntimely
graue."

"Alas, my tender nurce, and trusty frend, (quoth she)

Art thou so blinde that with thine eye thou canst not easely see The lawfull cause I haue to sorow and to moorne,

Since those the which I hyld most deere, I have at once forlorne."

Her nurce then aunswered thus-" Methinkes it sits you yll
To fall in these extremities that may you gyltles spill.
For when the stormes of care and troubles do aryse,
Then is the time for men to know the foolish from the wise.
You are accounted wise, a foole am I your nurce;

But I see not how in like case I could behaue me wurse.
Tibalt your frend is ded; what, weene you by your teares
To call him backe againe? thinke you that he your crying

heares?

You shall perceue the falt, (if it be iustly tryde,)

Of his so sodayn death was in his rashnes and his pryde.
Would you that Romeus him selfe had wronged so,
To suffer him selfe causeles to be outraged of his foe,
To whom in no respect he ought a place to geue?
Let it suffise to thee, fayre dame, that Romeus doth liue,

And that there is good hope that he, within a while,
With greater glory shalbe calde home from his hard exile.
How well y-borne he is, thyselfe I know canst tell,

By kindred strong, and well alyed, of all beloued well.
With patience arme thyselfe, for though that Fortunes cryme,
Without your falt, to both your greefes, depart you for a time.
I dare say, for amendes of all your present payne,

She will restore your owne to you, within a month or twayne,
With such contented ease as neuer erst you had;

Wherfore reioyce a while in hope, and be ne more so sad.
And that I may discharge your hart of heauy care,

A certaine way I haue found out, my paynes ne will I spare,
To learne his present state, and what in time to comme

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 eft sones, (as erst you did,) to moorne,
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 ilfe once lost, good aunswere comes in vayne ;

So shall I ridde my selfe with this sharpe pointed knife,

So shall you cause your parents deere wax wery of theyr life;
So shall your Romeus, (despising liuely breath,)

With hasty foote, before his tyme, ronne to vntimely death.
Where, if you can a while by reason rage suppresse,
I hope at my retorne 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 retorne agayne."
Her mistres sendes her forth, and makes a graue behest
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:

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 Juliets wandring mynd y-clowded is with woe,
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 haven did hold her louer Romeus.

When he had slayne his foe that gan this dedly strife,"
And saw the furious fray had ende by ending Tybalts life,
He fled the sharpe reuenge of those that yet did live,

And douting much what penall doome the troubled prince myght

gyue,

He sought somewhere vnseene to lurke a little space,

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 his frend to hyde.'
A secret place he hath, well seeled round about,

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 warme,

That neither wind nor smoky damps haue powre him ought to harme.

Where he was wont in youth his fayre frends to bestowe,
There now he hydeth Romeus, whilst forth he goeth to knowe
Both what is sayd and donne, and what appoynted payne
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,
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 tyme to comme might thoroughly devise.
Those ioyfull newes the nurce brought home with mery ioy;
And now our Juliet ioyes to thinke she shall her loue enioye.
The fryer shuts fast his doore, and then to him beneth,
That waytes to heare the doutefull newes of lyfe or els of death.
Thy hap, quoth he, is good, daunger of death is none,
But thou shalt liue, and doe full well, in spite of spitefull fone.
This onely payne for thee was erst proclaymde aloude,
A banishd man, thou mayst thee not within Verona shroude.
These heauy tydings heard, his golden lockes he tare,
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 striketh his hed against the wals,

He falleth downe againe, and lowde for hasty death he cals. "Come spedy deth, (quoth he,) the readiest leache in loue, Since nought can els beneth the sunne the ground of grefe re

moue,

Of lothsome life breake downe the hated staggering stayes,
Destroy, destroy at once the lyfe that faintly yet decayes.

But you, (fayre dame,) in whome dame Nature dyd deuise With cunning hand to woorke that might seeme wondrous in our eyes,

For you, I pray the gods, your pleasures to increase,

And all mishap, with this my death, for euermore to cease.
And mighty Joue with speede of iustice bring them lowe,
Whose lofty pryde, (without our gylt,) our blisse doth ouerblowe.
And Cupide graunt to those theyr spedy wrongs redresse,
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,
Of such begynning eke the ende the wiseman greatly feard.
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 friendly woordes he speaketh to the ayre,
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 ruthfull teares,
With colour pale and wan, with armes full hard y-fold,
With wofull cheere his wayling frend he standeth to beholde.
And then our Romeus with tender handes y-wrong,

With voyce with plaint made horce, wt. sobs and with a foltring

tong,

Renewd with nouel mone the dolours of his hart;

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,

He cryed out (with open mouth) against the starres aboue:

The fatall sisters three, he said had done him wrong,

The threed that should not haue been sponne, they had drawne foorth too long.

He wished that he had before this time been borne,

Or that as soone as he wan light, his life he had forlorne.

His nurce he cursed, and the hand that gaue him pappe,

The midwife eke with tender grype that held him in her lappe; And then did he complaine on Venus cruel sonne,

Who led him first vnto the rockes which he should warely shonne:
By meane wherof he lost both lyfe and libertie,

And dyed a hundred times a day, and yet could neuer dye.
Loues troubles lasten long, the 10yes he geues are short;
He forceth not a louers payne, theyr ernest is his sport.
A thousand thinges and more I here let passe to write
Which vnto loue this wofull man dyd speake in great despite.

On Fortune eke he raylde, he calde her deafe, and blynde,
Vinconstant, fond, deceitfull, rashe, vnruthfull, and vnkynd.
And to himself he layd a great part of the falt,

For that he slewe and was not slayne, in fighting with Tibalt.
He blamed all the world, and all he did defye,

But Juliet for whom he liued, for whom eke would he dye.
When after raging fits appeased was his rage,

And when his passions, (powred forth,) gan partly to asswage,
So wisely did the fryre vnto his tale replye,

That he straight cared for his life, that erst had care to dye.
"Art thou, quoth he, a man? Thy shape saith, so thou art ;
Thy crying, and thy weping eyes denote a womans hart.
For manly reason is quite from of thy mynd out-chased,
And in her stead affections lewd and fansies 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 of troubles and distres

Still standes not wayling present harme, but seeks his harmes redres.

As when the winter flawes with dredfull noyse arise,

And heaue the fomy swelling waues vp to the starry skies,
So that the broosed barke in cruell seas betost,

Dispayreth of the happy hauen, in daunger to be lost,

The pylate bold at helme, cryes, mates strike now your sayle,
And tornes her stemme into the waues that strongly her assayle;
Then driuen hard upon the bare and wrackfull shore,
In greater daunger to be wract than he had been before,
He seeth his ship full right against the rocke to ronne,
But yet he dooth what lyeth in him the perilous rocke to shonne;
Sometimes the beaten boate, by cunning gouernment,
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

Begin to wring his handes, and lets the gyding rodder goe,
The ship rents on the rocke, or sinketh in the deepe,
And eke the coward drenched is :-So, if thou still beweepe
And seke not how to helpe the chaunges that do chaunce,
Thy cause of sorow shall increase, thou cause of thy mischaunce.
Other account thee wise, proove not thyselfe a foole;
Now put in practise lessons learnd of old in wisdomes schoole.
The wise man saith, beware thou double not thy payne,
For one perhaps thou mayst abyde, but hardly suffer twaine.
As well we ought to seeke thinges hurtfull to decrease,
As to endeuor helping thinges by study to increase.