But these thinges ouerpast, if of your health and myne
You haue respect, or pitty ought my tear-y-weeping eyen,
In few vnfained woords your hidden mynd vnfolde,

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,
If wedlocke be the ende and marke which your desire hath
found,

Obedience set aside, vnto my parentes dewe,

The quarell eke that long agone betwene our housholdes grewe, Both me and myne I will all whole to you betake,

And following you where so you goe, my fathers house forsake. But if by wanton loue and by vnlawfull sute

You thinke in ripest yeres to plucke my maydenhods dainty frute,

You are begylde; and now your Juliet you beseekes

To cease your sute, and suffer her to liue among her likes."
Then Romeus, whose thought was free from fowle desyre,
And to the top of vertues haight did worthely aspyre,
Was fild with greater ioy then can my pen expresse,

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;

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 myselfe for such.

In true witnes wherof, because I must depart,

Till that my deede do proue my woord, I leaue in pawne my hart. Tomorrow eke betimes, before the sunne arise,

To Fryer Lawrence will I wende, to learne his sage aduise.

the hearers hart can gesse.] From these words it should seem that this poem was formerly sung or recited to casual passengers in the streets. See also p. 285, l. 23:

If any man be here, whom love hath clad with care, "To him I speak; if thou wilt speed," &c. MALONE.

In former days, when the faculty of reading was by no means so general as at present, it must have been no unfrequent practice for those who did not possess this accomplishment to gratify their curiosity by listening while some better educated person read aloud. It is, I think, scarcely probable, that a poem of the length of this Tragicall Hystory should be sung or recited in the streets: And Sir John Maundevile, at the close of his work, intreats "alle the Rederes and HERERES of his boke, zif it plese hem that thei wolde preyen to God," &c.—p. 383, 8vo. edit. 1727. By hereres of his boke he unquestionably intended hearers in the sense I have suggested. HOLT WHITE.

He is my gostly syre, and oft he hath me taught

What I should doe in things of wayght, when I his ayde haue sought.

And at this self same houre, I plyte you here my faith,

I wil be here, (if you think good,) to tell you what he sayth."
She was contented well; els fauour found he none

That night, at lady Juliets 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,

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,

If on no harmeful deede they do such skilfulnes bestow;

For iustly of no arte can men condemne the vse,

But right and reasons lore crye out agaynst the lewd abuse.
The bounty of the fryer and wisdom hath so wonne

The townes folks herts, that welnigh all to fryer Lawrence

ronne,

To shriue themselfe; the olde, the yong, the great and small; Of all he is beloued well, and honord much of all,

And, for he did the rest in wisdome farre exceede,

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

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,

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 skilful lore found out his harmes redresse. To him is Romeus gonne, ne stayth he till the morowe;

To him he paynteth 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 ad

uaunce;

Their talke and change of lookes he gan to him declare,

And how so fast by fayth and troth they both y-coupled are,

That neither hope of lyfe, nor dred 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

To further and accomplish all their honest hartes desyre.
A thousand doutes and moe in thold mans hed arose,

A thousand daungers like to come the old man doth disclose,

And from the spousall rites he readeth him refrayne,
Perhaps he shalbe bet aduisde within a weeke or twayne.
Aduise is banisht 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

That from a mountaines top thrown downe is falling halfe the way,

As warne 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 ;
And part, because he thinkes the stormes, so lately ouerpast,
Of both the housholdes wrath, this mariage might apease;
So that they should not rage agayne, but quite for euer cease.
The respite of a day he asketh to deuyse

What way were best, vnknowne, to ende so great an enterprise.
The wounded man that now doth dedly paines endure,

Scarce pacient tarieth whilst his leeche doth make the salue to

cure:

So Romeus hardly graunts a short day and a night,

Yet nedes he must, els must he want his onely heartes delight.
You see that Romeus no time or payne doth spare;
Thinke, that the whilst fayre Juliet is not deuoyde of care.
Yong Romeus powreth foorth his hap and his mishap
Into the friers brest; but where shall Juliet 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,
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 lyfe to saue.
Not easely she made the froward nurce to bowe,

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

To know the meane of mariage, by councell of the fryre.
On Saturday (quod he) if Juliet come to shrift

She shalbe shriued and maried:-how lyke you, noorse, this

drift?

Now by my truth, (quod she) God's blessing haue your hart, 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

To mock 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 haue found it scarse.
Now for the rest let me and Juliet alone;

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 youthfull damsell drempt,

Or for in thoughts of loue her ydel time she spent,

Or otherwise within her hart deserued to be shent.

I know her mother will in no case say

her nay;

I warrant you, she shall not fayle to come on Saterday.

And then she sweares to him, the mother loues her well;
And how she gaue her sucke in youth, she leaueth not to tell.

A prety babe (quod she) it was when it was yong;

Lord how it could full pretely haue prated with it tong!
A thousand times and more I laid her on my lappe,

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 lecher's mouth.
And thus of Juliets youth began this prating noorse,

And of her present state to make a tedious long discoorse.
For though he pleasure tooke in hearing of his loue,

The message aúnswer seemed him to be of more behoue.
But when these Beldams sit at ease vpon theyr tayle,

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,

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 be

stowe

Her crafty wit, her time, and all her busy payne,

To helpe him to his hoped blisse; and, cowring downe agayne, She takes her leaue, and home she hyes with spedy pace;

The chaumber doore she shuts, and then she saith with smyling

face;

Good newes for thee, my gyrle, good tidinges I thee bring,
Leaue of thy woonted song of care, and now of pleasure sing.
For thou mayst hold thyselfe the happiest vnder sonne,
That in so little while so well so worthy a knight hast wonne.
The best y-shapde is he and hath the fayrest face,

Of all this towne, and there is none hath halfe so good a grace:
So gentle of his speche, and of his counsell wise:-

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

Tell me els what, (quod she) this euermore I thought;
But of our mariage, say at once, what answere haue you brought?
Nay, soft, (quoth she) I feare your hurt by sodain ioye;
I list not play (quoth Juliet), although thou list to toye.
How glad, trow you, was she, when she had heard her say,
No farther of then Saturday differred was the day.
Again the auncient nurse doth speake of Romeus,

And then (said she) he spake to me, and then I spake him thus.
Nothing was done or said that she hath left vntold,

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 shall thou repent so much of

any crime. For when I call to mynde my former passed youth,

One thing there is which most of all doth cause my endless 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,

A thousand times I haue bewept, and shall, while lyfe doth last.
In fayth it were a shame, yea sinne it were, y wisse,

When thou mayst liue in happy ioy, to set light by thy blisse."
She that this mornyng could her mistres mynde disswade,
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 sorts of men there are, seeld welcome in at doore,
The welthy sparing nigard, and the sutor that is poore.
For glittring gold is woont by kynd to mooue the hart;
And oftentimes a slight rewarde doth cause a more desart.
Y-written haue I red, I wot not in what booke,

There is no better way to fishe then with a golden hooke.
Of Romeus these two doe sitte and chat awhile,

And to them selfe they laugh how they the mother shall begyle.
A feate excuse they finde, but sure I know it not,

And leaue for her to goe to shrift on Saterday, she got.

So well this Juliet, this wyly wench, dyd know

Her mothers angry houres, and eke the true bent of her bowe. The Saterday betimes, in sober weede yclad,

She tooke her leaue, and forth she went with visage graue and sad. With her the nurce is sent, as brydle of her lust,

With her the mother sendes a mayde almost of equall trust. Betwixt her teeth the bytte the Jenet now hath cought,

So warely eke the vyrgin walkes, her mayde perceiueth nought. She gaseth not in churche on yong men of the towne,

Ne wandreth she from place to place, but straight she kneleth

downe