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Advise is banisht quite from those that folowe love,
Except advise to what they like theyr bending mynd do move.
As well the father might have counseld him to stay
That from a mountaines top thrown downe is falling halfe the

As warne his frend to stop amid his race begonne,
Whom Cupid with his smarting whip enforceth foorth to ronne.
Part wonne by earnest sute, the frier doth graunt at last;
And part, because he thinkes the stormes, so lately overpast,
Of both the housholds wrath, this marriage might appease;
So that they should not rage agayne, but quite for ever cease.
The respite of a day he asketh to devise
What way were best, unknown, to end so great an enterprise.
The wounded man that now doth dedly paynes endure,
Scarce patient tarieth whilst his leeche doth make the salve to


doth spare;

So Romeus hardly graunts a short day and a night,
Yet nedes he must, els must he want his onely hartes delight.

You see that Romeus no time or payne
Thinke, that the whilst fayre Juliet is not devoyde of care.
Yong Romeus powreth foorth his hap and his mishap
Into the friers brest ;-but where shall Juliet unwrap
The secrets of her hart ? to whom shall she unfolde
Her hidden burning love, and eke her thought and care so colde.
The nurse of whom I spake, within her chamber laye,
Upon the mayde she wayteth still ;-to her she doth bewray
Her new-received wound, and then her ayde doth crave,
In her, she saith, it lyes to spill, in her, her life to save.
Not easily 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 covert brest.

To Romeus she goes, of him she doth desyre To know the meane of marriage, by counsell of the fryre. On Saturday (quod he) if Juliet come to shrift She shall be shrived and married ;—how lyke you, noorse, this

drift ? Now by my truth, (quod she) God's blessing have your hart, For yet in all my life I have not heard of such a part. Lord, how you yong men can such crafty wiles devise, If that you love 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 have found it scarse. Now for the rest let me and Juliet alone ; To get her leave, some feate excuse I will devise anone;

For that her golden lockes by sloth have been unkempt,
Or for unwares some wanton dreame the youthfull damsell

Or for in thoughts of love her ydel time she spent,
Or otherwise within her hart deserved 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 loves her well;
And how she gave her sucke in youth, she leaveth not to tell.
A pretty babe (quod she) it was when it was yong ;
Lord how it could full pretely have 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 'ad been to have a kisse of some old lecher's mouth.
And thus of Juliets youth began this prating noorse,
And of her present state to make a tedious long discourse.
For though he pleasure tooke in hearing of his love,
The message aunswer seemed him to be of more behove.
But when these beldames sit at ease upon theyr tayle,
The day and eke the candle light before theyr talke shall fayle.
And part they say is true, and part they do devise,
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 gave them her ;-a slight reward (quod he) and so adiew.
In seven yeres twice tol 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 help him to his hoped blisse ; and, cowring downe agayne, She takes her leave, and home she hyes with spedy pace; The chaumber doore she shuts, and then she saith with smyling


Good newes for thee, my gyrle, good tydinges I thee bring.
Leave of thy woonted song of care, and now of pleasure sing.
For thou mayst hold thyselfe the happiest under sonne,
That in so little while so well so worthy a knight hast woone.
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 speeche, and of his counsell wise :-
And still with many prayses more she heaved him to the skies.
Tell me els what, (quod she) this evermore I thought ;
But of our marriage, say at once, what answere have you

Nay, soft, (quoth she) I feare your hurt by sodain joye;
I list not play (quod Juliet), although thou list to toye.
How glad, trow you, was she, when she had heard her say,
No farther of then Saterday 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 sayd that she hath left untold,
Save only 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 mynd 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 loving feere,
And I was fully rype before, I dare well say, a yere.
The pleasure that I lost, that year so overpast,
A thousand times I have bewept, and shall, whyle life doth last.
In fayth it were a shame, yea sinne it were, I wisse,
When thou maist live in happy joy, to set light loy thy blisse."
She that this morning could her mistres mynd disswade,
Is now become an oratresse, her lady to perswade.
If any man be here whom love hath clad with care,
To him I speake; if thou wilt speede, thy purse thou must not

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 wont by kynd to moove the hart ;
And oftentimes a slight rewarde doth cause a more desart.
Y-written have I red, I wot not in what booke,
There is no better way to fishe then with a golden hooke.
Of Romeus these two do sitte and chat awhyle,
Add to them selfe they laugh how they the mother shall begyle.
A feate excuse they finde, but sure I know it not,
And leave for her to go to shrift on Saterday, she got.
So well this Juliet, this wily wench, did know
Her mothers angry houres, and eke the true bent of her bowe.
The Saterday betimes, in sober weed y-clad,
She tooke her leave, and forth she went with visage grave and sad.
With her the nurce is sent, as brydle of her lust,
With her the mother sends a mayd almost of equall trust.
Betwixt her teeth the bytte the jenet now hath cought,
So warely eke the vyrgin walks, her mayde perceiveth nought.
She gaseth not in churche on yong men of the towne,
Ne wandreth she from place to place, but straight she kneleth

downe Upon an alters step, where she devoutly prayes, And thereupon 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 shriving place he comes with pleasant cheere; The shamfast mayde with bashfull brow to himward draweth neere. Some great offence (quod he) you have committed late, Perhaps you have displeasd your frend by geving him a mate.

Then turning to the nurce and to the other mayde,
Go heare a masse or two, (quod he) which straightway shall be

For, her confession heard, I will unto you twayne
The charge that I received of you restore to you agayne.
What, was not Juliet, trow you, right well apayde,
That for this trusty fryre hath chaunged 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 forth walked byn; He shuts the doore as soon as he and Juliet were in. But Romeus, her frend, was entered in before, And there had wayted for his love, two houres large and more. Eche minute seemd an houre, and every howre a day, Twixt hope he lived and despayre of cumming or of stay. Now wavering hope and feare are quite fled out of sight, For, what he hopde he hath at hande, his pleasant cheefe delight. And joyfull Juliet is healde of all her smart, For now the rest of all her parts hath found her straying hart. Both theyr confessions fyrst the fryer hath heard them make, And then to her with lowder voyce thus fryer Lawrence spake : Fayre lady Juliet, my gostly daughter deere, As farre as I of Romeus learne, who by you stondeth here, Twixt you it is agreed, that you shal be 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 lovers said, it was theyr onely harts request. When he did see theyr myndes in linkes of love so fast, When in the prayse of wedlocks state some skilfull talke was

past. When he had told at length the wyfe what was her due, His duty eke by gostly talke the youthfull husband knew; How that the wyfe in love must honour and obey, What love and honor he doth owe, a dette that he must pay, The woords pronounced were which holy church of olde Appoynted 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 parte so soone)

Fayre lady, send to me agayne your nurce thys afternoone. Of corde I will bespeake a ladder by that time; By which, this night, while other sleepe, I will your windowe

clime. Then will we talke of love and of our old dispayres, And then with longer laysure had dispose our great affayres."


These sayd, they kisse, and then part to theyr fathers house, The joyfull bryde unto her home, to his eke goth the spouse; Contented both, and yet both uncontented still, Till Night and Venus child geve leave the wedding to fulfill. The painful souldiour, sore y-bet with wery warre, The merchant eke that nedefull thinges doth dred to fetch from

farre, The ploughman that, for doute of feerce invading foes, Rather to sit in ydle ease then sowe his tilt hath chose, Rejoice to hear proclaymd the tydings of the peace; Not pleasurd with the sound so much ; but, when the warres do

cease, Then ceased are the harmes which cruel 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 lovers live in care, in dred, and in unrest, And dedly warre by striving thoughts they keepe within their

brest : But wedlocke is the peace whereby is freedome wonne To do a thousand pleasant thinges that should not els be donne. The news of ended warre these two have heard with joy, But now they long the fruite of peace with pleasure to enjoy. In stormy wind and wave, 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 come in sight of quiet haven; and, now the wrackfull barre Is hid with swelling tyde, boldly thou mayst resort Unto thy wedded ladies bed, thy long desyred port. God graunt, no follies mist so dymme thy inward sight, That thou do misse the channel 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. A servant Romeus had, of woord and deede so just, That with his lyfe, if nede requierd, his maister would him trust. His faithfulness had oft our Romeus proved of olde ; And therefore all that yet was done unto his man he tolde. Who straight, as he was charged, a corden ladder lookes, To which he hath made fast two strong and crooked yron hookes. The bryde to send the nurce at twylight fayleth not, To whom the brydegroome geven hath the ladder that he got. And then to watch for him appoynted her an howre, For, whether Fortune smyle on him, or if she list to lowre, He will not misse to come to hys appoynted place, Where wont he was to take by stelth the view of Juliets face. How long these lovers thought the lasting of the day, Let other judge that woonted are lyke passions to assay: VOL. VI.


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