And joyfull Juliet another leafe must toorne :
As wont fhe was, (her joyes bereft) she must begin to moorne.
The fummer of their bliffe doth laft a month or twaine,
But winter's blaft with fpedy foote doth bring the fall agayne.
Whom glorious Fortune erit had heaved to the skies,
By envious Fortune overthrowne, on earth now groveling lyes.
She payd theyr former greefe with pleafure's doubled gayne,
But now, for pleafure's ufury, ten folde redoubleth payne.
The prince could never caufe thofe houfholds fo agree,
But that fome fparcles of theyr wrath as yet remayning bee;
Which lye this while raaked up in afhes pale and ded,
Till tyme do ferve that they agayne in wafting flame may fpred.
At holiest times, men say, most heynous crimes are donne;
The morrowe after Eafter-day the mifchiefe new begonne.
A band of Capilets dyd meet (my hart it rewes)
Within the walles, by Purfer's gate, a band of Montagewes.
The Capilets as cheefe a yong man have chose out,
Beft exercifd in feates of armes, and nobleft of the rowte,
Our Juliet's unkle's fonne, that cleped was Tibalt ;
He was of body tall and strong, and of his courage halt.
They need noe trumpet founde to byd him geve the charge,
So lowde he cryde with strayned voyce and mouth out-stretched large:
"Now, now, quoth he, my friends, our felfe fo let us wreake, That of this daye's revenge and us our children's heyres may speake.
Now once for all let us their fwelling pryde affwage;
Let none of them efcape alive."-Then he with furious rage,
And they with him, gave charge upon theyr prefent foes,
And then forthwith a fkirmish great upon this fray arose.
For loe the Montagewes thought fhame away to flye,
And rather than to live with fhame, with prayfe did choose to dye.
The woords that Tybalt ufd to flyrre his folke to yre,
Have in the brefts of Montegewes kindled a furious fyre.
With lyons harts they fight, warely them felfe defend;
To wound his foe, his prefent wit and force eche one doth bend.
This furious fraye is long on each fide ftoutly fought,
That whether part had got the woorft, full doutfull were the thought.
The noy fe hereof anon throughout the towne doth flye,
And parts are taken on every fide; both kindreds thether hye.
Here one doth gafpe for breth, his frend bestrydeth him;
And he hath loft a hand, and he another maymed lym:
His leg is cutte whilft he strikes at an other full,
And whom he would have thrust quite through, hath cleft his
Theyr valiant harts forbode theyr foot to geve the grounde; With unappauled cheere they tooke full deepe and doutful!
Thus foote by foote long while, and fhylde to fhylde fet faft, One foe doth make another faint, but makes him not agast, And whilst this noyfe is ryfe in every townefman's eare,
Eke, walking with his frendes, the noyfe doth wofull Romeus heare.
With fpedy foot he ronnes unto the fray apace;
With him, thofe fewe that were with him he leadeth to the place.
They pity much to fee the flaughter made fo greate,
That wet fhod they might stand in blood on eyther fide the streate.
Part frendes, faid he, part frendes, help, frendes, to part the fray,
And to the reft, enough, (he cryes) now time it is to staye.
God's farther wrath you ftyrre, befide the hurt you feele,
And with this new uprore confounde all this our common wele.
But they fo bufy are in fight, fo eager, fierce,
That through theyr earcs his fage advise no ley fure had to pearce.
Then leapt he in the throng, to part and barre the blowes
As well of thofe that were his frendes, as of his dedly foes.
As foon as Tybalt had our Romeus espyde,
He threw a thruft at him, that would have paft from fide to fide;
But Romeus ever went, douting his foes, well armde,
So that the fwerd, kept out by mayle, had nothing Romeus harmde.
Thou doft me wrong, quoth he, for I but part the fraye;
Not dread, but other waighty caufe my hafty hand doth stay.
Thou art the cheefe of thine, the nobleft eke thou art,
Wherefore leave of thy malice now, and helpe thefe folke to part.
Many are hurt, fome flayne, and fome are like to dye :-
No, coward, traytor boy, quoth he, ftraight way I mind to trye,
Whether thy fugred talke, and tong fo finoothly fylde,
Against the force of this my fwerd fhall ferve thee for a fhylde.
And then at Romeus' hed a blow he strake so hard,
That might have clove him to the braine but for his cunning ward. It was but lent to him that could repay againe,
And gere him deth for intereft, a well-forborne gayne.
Right as a forest bore, that lodged in the thicke,
Pinched with dog, or els with ipcare y-pricked to the quicke,
His bristles ftyffe upright upon his backe doth fet,
And in his fomy mouth his fharp and crooked tuskes doth whet;
Or as a lyon wilde, that raumpeth in his rage,
His whelpes bereft, whofe fury can ne weaker beaft affwage ;-
Such feemed Romeus in every other's fight,
When he him fhope, of wrong receavde tavenge himfelfe by fight.
Even as two thunderboltes throwne downe out of the skye,
That though the ayre, the maffy earth, and feas have powre to
So met these two, and whyle they chaunge a blowe or twayne, Our Romeus thrust him through the throte, and fo is Tybalt
Loe here the end of those that styrre a dedly ftryfe!
Who thryfteth after other's death, him felfe hath loft his lyfe.
The Capilets are quaylde by Tybalt's overthrowe,
The courage of the Montagewes by Romeus' fight doth growe.
The townesmen waxen ftrong, the Prince doth fend his force;
The fray hath end. The Capilets do bring the bretheles corce
Before the prince, and crave that dedly payne
May be the guerdon of his falt, that hath theyr kinfman flayne.
The Montagewes do pleade theyr Romeus voyde of falt;
The lookers on do fay, the fight begonne was by Tybalt.
The Prince doth pawfe, and then geves fentence in a while,
That Romeus, for fleying him, fhould goe into exyle.
His foes would have him hangde, or fterve in prifon strong;
His frends do think, but dare not fay, that Romeus hath wrong.
Both houfholds ftraight are charged on payne of lofing lyfe,
Theyr bloudy weapons layd afide, to cease the ftyrred ftryfe.
This common plage is fpred through all the towne anon,
From fide to fide the towne is fild with murmur and with mone.
For Tybalt's hafty death bewayled was of fomme,
Both for his fkill and feates of armes, and for, in time to comme
He fhould, had not this chaunced, been riche and of great powre,
To helpe his frends, and ferve the state; which hope within an
Was wafted quite, and he, thus yelding up his breath,
More than he holpe, the towne in lyfe, hath harmde it by his
And other fome bewayle, but ladies most of all,
The lookeles lot by Fortune's gylt that is fo late befall,
Without his fault, unto the feely Romeus ;
For whilst that he from natife land fhall live exyled thus,
From heavenly bewtie's light and his well fhaped parts,
The fight of which was wont, fayre dames, to glad your youthfull harts,
Shall you be banishd quite, and tyll he do retoorne,
What hope have you to joy, what hope to cease to moorne ?
This Romeus was borne fo much in heaven's grace,
Of Fortune and of Nature so beloved, that in his face
(Befide the heavenly bewty gliftering ay fo bright,
And feemely grace that wonted fo to glad the feer's fight)
A certain charme was graved by Nature's fecret arte,
That vertue had to draw to it the love of many a hart.
So every one doth wifh to beare a part of payne,
That he releafed of exyle might straight retoorne agayne.
But how doth moorne emong the moorners Juliet!
How doth fhe bath her brest in teares! what depe fighs doth fhe
How doth the teare her heare! her weede how doth she rent!
How fares the lover hearing of her lover's banishment!
How wayles fhe Tybalt's death, whom she had loved so well!
Her hearty greefe and piteous plaint, cunning I want to tell.
For delving depely now in depth of depe dyfpayre,
With wretched forrowe's cruell found the fills the empty ayre;
And to the loweft hell downe falls her heavy crye,
And up unto the heaven's haight her piteous plaint doth flye. The waters and the woodes of fighes and fobs refounde,
And from the hard refounding rockes her forrowes do rebounde. Eke from her teary eyne downe rayned many a fhowre,
That in the garden where fhe walkde,mightwater herbe and flowre. But when at length fhe faw herself outraged so,
Unto herchaumber ftraight fhe hide; there overcharged with woe,
Upon her stately bed her painfull parts fhe threw,
And in fo wondrous wife began her forrowes to renewe,
That fure no hart fo hard (but it of flynt had byn,)
But would have rude the piteous playnt that he did languifle in.
Then rapt out of her felfe, whilft fhe on every fide
Did caft her reftles eye, at length the windowe the efpide,
Through which fhe had with joy feene Romeus many a time,
Which oft the ventrous knight was wont for Juliet's fake to
clyme.
She cryde, O curfed windowe! acurft be every pane,
Through which, alas! to fone I raught the caufe of life and bane. If by thy meane I have fome flight delight receaved,
Or els fuch fading pleasure as by Fortune straight was reaved,
Haft thou not made me pay a tribute rigorous
Of heaped greete and lasting care, and forowes dolorous ?
That these my tender parts, which nedeful strength do lacke
To bear fo great unweldy lode upon fo weake a backe,
Oppreft with waight of cares and with these forowes rife,
At length muft open wide to death the gates of lothed lyfe;
That fo my wery fprite may fomme where els unlode
His deadly loade, andfree from thrallmay fecke els where abode
For pleatant quiet eafe and for affured reft,
Which I as yet could never finde but for my more unrest?
O Ron.eus, when firft we both acquainted were,
When to thy painted promifes I lent my liftning care,
Which to the brinkes you fild with many a folemn othe,
And I then judgde empty of gyle, and fraughted full of troth,
I thought you rather would continue our good will,
And fecke tappeafe our fathers ftrife, which daily groweth ftill.
I little wend you would have fought occafion how
By fuch an heynous act to breake the peace and eke your vowe;
Whereby your bright renoune all whole yclipfed is,
And I unhappy husbandles, of cumfort robde and bliffe.
But if you did fo much the blood of Capels thyrst,
Why have you often fpared myne? myne might have quencht it fyrst.
Synce that fo many times and in fo fecret place,
Where you were wont with vele of love to hyde your hatred's face,
My doutful lyfe hath hapt by fatall dome to ftand
In mercy of your cruel hart, and of your bloudy hand.
What! feemde the conqueft which you got of me fo fmall? What! feemde it not enough that I, poor wretch, was made your thrall?
But that you must increase it with that kinfman's blood,
Which for his woorth and love to me, moft in my favour food?
Well, goe hencefoorth els where, and feeke an other whyle
Some other as unhappy as I, by flattery to begyle.
And, where I comme, fee that you fhonne to fhew your face,
For your excufe within my hart shall finde no refting place.
And I that now, too late, my former fault repent,
Will fo the rest of wery life with many teares lament,
That foon my joyceles corps fhall yeld up banishd breath,
And where on earth it reftles lived, in earth feeke reft by death.
These fayd, her tender hart, by payne oppreffed fore,
Reftrayned her teares, and forced her tong to kepe her talke in store;
And then as still he was, as if in fownd the lay,
And then againe, wroth with herfelfe, with feeble voyce gan fay:
"Ah cruell murdering tong, murdrer of others fame,
How durft thou once attempt to tooch the honor of his name?
Whofe dedly foes do yeld him dew and erned prayse;
For though his freedom be bereft, his honour not decayes,
Why blamit thou Romeus for flaying of Tybalt,
Since he is gyltles quite of all, and Tybalt beares the fait ?
Whether fhall he, alas! poore banifhd man, now flye?
What place of fuccour fhall he feeke beneth the starry skye?
Since the purfueth hym, and him defames by wrong
That in diftres fhould be his fort, and onely rampier strong.
Receive the recompence, O Romeus, of thy wife,
Who, for fhe was unkind her felfe, doth offer up her life,
In flames of yre, in fighes, in foro and in ruch,
So to revenge the crime he did commit against thy truth."
Thefe faid, the could no more; her fenfes all gan fayle,
And dedly panges began ftraightway her tender hart affayle;
Her limmes the stretched forth fhe drew no more her breath,
Who had been there might well have feen the fignes of prefent
death.
The nurce that knew no caufe why the absented her,
Did doute left that fome fodayn greefe too much tormented her,
Eche where but where the was, the carefull beldam fought,
Laft, of the chamber where the lay the happly her bethought;
VOL. X.
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