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 Satvrday (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 aunswer 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

Vpon an alters step, where she deuoutly prayes,
And therevpon her tender knees the wery lady stayes;
Whilst she doth send her mayde the certain truth to know,
If frier Lawrence laysure had to heare her shrift, or no.
Out of his shriuing place he commes with pleasant cheere;
The shamefast mayde with bashfull brow to himward draweth

neere.

Some great offence (quod he) you have committed late, Perhaps you haue displeasd your frend by geuing him a mate. Then turning to the nurce and to the other mayde,

Go heare a masse or two, (quod he) which straightway shalbe sayde.

For, her confession heard, I will vnto you twayne

The charge that I receiud of you restore to you agayne.
What, was not Juliet, trow you, right well apayde,

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 ;
He shuts the doore as soon as he and Juliet were in.

But Romeus, her frend, was entred in before,
And there had wayted for his loue, two howers large and more.
Eche minute seemde an howre, and euery howre a day,
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 de-
light.

And ioyfull Juliet is healde of all her smart,

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

As farre as I of Romeus learne, who by you standeth here,
Twixt you it is agreed, that you shalbe his wyfe,

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

And both the louers said, it was theyr onely harts request.
When he did see theyr myndes in linkes of loue so fast,
When in the prayse of wedlocks state some skilfull talke was past.
When he had told at length the wife what was her due,
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
Appointed hath for mariage, and she a ring of golde

Received of Romeus; and then they both arose.

To whom the frier then said: Perchaunce apart you will disclose,
Betwixt your selfe alone, the bottome of your hart;

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 noone. Of corde I will bespeake a ladder by that time;

By 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,
The joyfull bryde vnto her home, to his eke goth the spouse;
Contented both, and yet both vncontented still,

Till night and Venus child geue leaue the wedding to fulfill.
The painful souldiour, sore ybet with wery warre,

The merchant eke that nedefull things doth dred to fetch from farre,

The ploughman that, for doute of feerce inuading foes,
Rather to sit in ydle ease then sowe his tilt hath chose,
Reioice to heare proclaymd the tydinges of the peace;
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;

Dredeless the husbandman doth till his fertile feeld.

For welth, her mate, not for her selfe, is peace so precious held: So louers liue in care, in dread, and in vnrest,

And dedly warre by striuing thoughts they kepe within their brest;

But wedlocke is the peace wherby is freedome wonne

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,

Thy stearles ship, (O Romeus,) hath been long while betost;
The seas are now appeasd, and thou, by happy starre,

Art comme in sight of quiet hauen; and, now the wrackfull

barre

Is hid with swelling tyde, boldly thou mayst resort
Vnto thy wedded ladies bed, thy long 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, y-lurking in the darke,
Before thou win the happy port, wracke thy sea-beaten barke.