The prayse of trew fredom in wisdomes bondage lyes, 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 fredome shalt thou finde.

Fortune can fill nothing so full of hearty greefe,

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,
And after great extremity mishaps ay waxen lesse.
Like as there is no weale but wastes away somtime,
So every kind of wayled woe will weare away in time.
If thou wilt master quite the troubles that the spill,
Endevor 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,

Wherfore the chaunge of chaunce must not seeme to a wise man

straunge.

For tickel Fortune doth, in chaunging, but her kind,

But all her chaunges cannot chaunge a steady constant mind. Though wauering Fortune toorne from thee her smyling face, And sorow seeke to set himselfe 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.

For as her happy state no long whyle standeth sure,

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 thyselfe, then I can thee aduyse.
Wisdome, I see, is vayne, if thus in time of neede

A wisemans 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 foggy mist thy febled sight doth blynde;

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,

Thou hast escaped 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?
Or els to please thy hatefull foes be partner of theyr smart?
Why cryest thou out on loue? why doest thou blame thy fate?
Why dost thou so crye after death? thy life why dost thou hate?
Dost thou repent the choyce that thou so late didst choose?
Loue is thy lord; thou oughtst obay and not thy prince accuse.
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;
To geue to such vnthankefull men is folly and a sin.
Methinkes I heare thee say, the cruell banishment
Is onely cause of thy vnrest; onely thou dost lament
That from thy natife land and frendes thou must depart,
Enforsd to flye from her that hath the keping of thy hart:
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,

All countreys are his natiue soyle beneath the firmament.
As to the fishe the sea, as to the fowle the ayre,

repayre.

So is like pleasant to the wise eche place of his
Though froward fortune chase thee hence into exyle,
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,
They are not banishd Mantua, where safely thou mast be.
Thether they may resort, though thou resort not hether,
And there in suretie may you talke of your affayres together.
Yea, but this whyle, (alas!) thy Juliet must thou misse,
The onely piller of thy helth, and ancor of thy blisse.
Thy hart thou leauest 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 behinde,
With thought of passed ioyes content thy vncontented mynde;
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,
And he vnworthy of the sweete, that tasteth not the sowre.
Call now againe to mynde thy first consuming flame;
How didst thou vainely burne in loue of an vnlouing dame?
Hadst thou not welnigh wept quite out thy swelling eyne?
Did not thy parts, fordoon with payne, languishe away and
pyne?

Those greefes and others like were happly ouerpast,

And thou in haight of Fortunes wheele well placed at the last!

From whence thou art now falne, that, raysed vp agayne, With greater joy a greater whyle in pleasure mayst thou raygne. Compare the present while with times y-past before,

And thinke that fortune hath for thee great pleasure yet in

store.

The whilst, this little wrong receive thou paciently,

And what of force must nedes be done, that doe thou willingly.
Folly it is to feare that thou canst not auoyde,

And madnes to desire it much that cannot be enioyde.
To geue to Fortune place, not ay deserueth blame,
But skill it is, according to the times thy selfe to frame.”‹
Whilst to this skilfull lore he lent his listning eares,

His sighs are stopt, and stopped are the conduits of his teares.
As blackest cloudes are chaced by winters nimble winde,
So haue his reasons chaced care out of his carefull mynde.
As of a morning fowle ensues an euening fayre,

So banisht hope returneth hope to banish his despayre.
Now his affections veale remoued from his eyes,

He seeth the path that he must walke, and reson makes him wise.

For very shame the blood doth flashe in both his cheekes,

Τ

He thankes the father for his lore, and farther ayde he seekes. He sayth, that skilles youth for counsell is vnfitte,

And anger oft with hastines are ioynd 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
Shal be in awe and gouerned by fryer Lawrence' skill.
The gouernor is nowe right carefull of his charge,

To whom he doth wisely discoorse of his affaires at large.
He telles him how he shall depart the towne vnknowne,
Both mindfull of his frendes safetie, and carefull of his owne.
How he shall gyde himselfe, 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
Appease the wrath of Escalus, and wipe the fault away;
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
To goe with manly mery cheere vnto his ladies bowre,
And there with holesome woordes to salue her sorowes smart,
And to ceviue, (if nede require,) her faint and dying hart.

The old mans woords have fild with ioy our Romeus brest,
And eke the old wiues talke hath set our Juliets hart at rest.
Whereto may I compare, (O louers,) thys your day?
Like dayes the painefull mariners are woonted to assay;

7

For, beat with tempest great, when they at length espye
Some little beame of Phoebus light, that perceth through the skié,
To cleare the shadowde earth by clearnes of his face,

They hope that dreadles they shall ronne the remnant of their

race;

r

Yea they assure them selfe, and quite behynd theyr backe They cast all doute, and thanke the Gods for scaping of the wracke;

་

But straight the boysterous windes with greater fury blowe, A
And over boord the broken mast the stormy blastes doe throwe;
The heauens large are clad with cloudes as darke as hell,
And twise as hye the striuing waues begin to roare and swell;
With greater daungers dred the men are vexed more,
In greater perill of their lyfe then they had been before.

The golden sonne was gonne to lodge him in the west,
The full moone eke in yonder South had sent most men to rest;
When restles Romeus and restles Juliet

In woonted sort, by woonted meane, in Juliets chamber met.
And from the windowes top downe had he leaped scarce,
When she with armes outstretched wide so hard did him embrace,
That wel nigh had the sprite (not forced by dedly force)
Flowne vnto death, before the time abandoning the corce,
Thus muet stood they both the eight part of an howre,
And both would speake, but neither had of speaking any powre;
But on his brest her hed doth ioylesse Juliet lay,

And on her slender necke his chyn doth ruthfull Romeus stay.
Theyr scalding sighes ascend, and by theyr cheekes downe fall
Theyr trickling teares, as christall cleare, but bitterer farre then

gall.

Then he, to end the greefe which both they liued in,
Dyd kysse his loue, and wisely thus hys tale he dyd begin :
"My Juliet, my loue, my onely hope and care,

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 chaunge;
Who in a moment heaues her frendes vp to the height
Of her swift-turning slippery wheele, then fleetes her frendship
straight.

O wondrous chaunge! euen with the twinkling of an eye
Whom erst herselfe had rashly set in pleasant place so hye,
The same in great despyte downe hedlong doth she throwe,
And while she treades, and spurneth at the lofty state laid lowe,
More sorow doth she shape within an howers space,
Than pleasure in an hundred yeres; so geyson
is her grace.
The proofe whereof, in me, (alas!) too plaine apperes,
Whom tenderly my carefull frendes haue fosterd with my feers,

In prosperous high degree, mayntayned so by fate,
That, (as your selfe dyd see,) my foes enuyde my noble state.
One thing there was I did aboue the rest desire,

To which as to the soueraigne good by hope I would aspyre.
Thol by our mariage meane we might within a while
(To work our perfect happines) our parents reconsile :
That safely so we might, (not stopt by sturdy strife,)
Vnto the boundes that God hath set, gyde forth our pleasant lyfe.
But now, (alacke!) too soone my blisse is ouer blowne,
And vpside downe my purpose and my enterprise are throwne.
And driuen from my frendes, of straungers must I craue
(O graunt it God!) from daungers dread that I may suretie haue.
For loe, henceforth I must wander in landes vnknowne,
(So hard I finde the prince's doome) exyled from mine owne.
Which thing I haue thought good to set before your eyes,
And to exhort you now to prove yourselfe a woman wise;
That paciently you beare my absent long abod,
For what above by fatall domes decreed is, that God—”
And more then this to say, it seemed, he was bent,
But Juliet in dedly greefe, with brackish tears besprent,
Brake of his tale begonne, and whilst his speche he stayde,
These selfe same wordes, or like to these, with dreery chere she
sayde:

"Why Romeus, can it be, thou hast so hard a hart,

So farre remoued from ruth, so farre from thinking on my smart,
To leaue me thus alone, (thou cause of my distresse,)

Beseged with so great a campe of mortall wretchednesse;
That euery hower now and moment in a day

A thousand times Death bragges, as he would reaue my life away?

Yet such is my mishap, O cruell destenye!

That still I liue, and wish for death, but yet can neuer dye.

So that iust cause I haue to thinke, (as seemeth me,)

That froward Fortune did of late with cruel Death agree,
To lengthen lothed life, to pleasure in my payne,

And tryumph in my harme, as in the greatest hoped gayne.
And thou, the instrument of Fortunes cruell will,
Without whose ayde she can no way her tyrans lust fulfill,
Art not a whit ashamde (as farre as I can see)

To cast me off, when thou hast culd the better part of me.
Whereby (alas!) to soone, I, seely wretch, do proue,
That all the auncient sacred lawes of friendship 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 myself a foe,

Disdayneth me, his stedfast frend, and scornes my friendship so.