Fill it with water full up to the very brim,

Then drink it of, and thou shalt feele throughout eche vayne and

lym

A pleasant slumber slyde, and quite dispred at length

On all thy partes, from every part reve all thy kindly strength; Withouten moving thus thy ydle partes shall rest,

No pulse shall goe, ne hart once beate within thy hollow brest, But thou shalt lye as she that dyeth in a traunce:

Thy kinsmen and thy trusty frendes shall wayle the sodayne

chaunce;

The corps then will they bring to grave in this churcheyarde, Where thy forefathers long agoe a costly tombe preparde, Both for them selfe and eke for those that should come after, (Both depe it is, and long and large) where thou shalt rest, my daughter,

Till I to Mantua sende for Romeus, thy knight;

Out of the tombe both he and I will take thee forth that night. And when out of thy slepe thou shalt awake agayne,

Then may'st thou goe with him from hence; and, healed of thy payne,

In Mantua lead with him unknowne a pleasant lyfe;

And yet perhaps in tyme to comme, when cease shall all the stryfe, And that the peace is made twixt Romeus and his foes,

My selfe may finde so fit a time these secretes to disclose,

Both to my prayse, and to thy tender parentes joy,

That dangerles, without reproche, thou shalt thy love enjoy."
When of his skilfull tale the fryer had made an ende,

To which our Juliet so well her care and wits did bend,
That she hath heard it all and hath forgotten nought,

Her fainting hart was comforted with hope and pleasant thought,
And then to him she sayd-" Doubt not but that I will

With stout and unapauled hart your happy hest fulfill.
Yea, if I wist it were a venemous dedly drinke,

Rather would I that through my throte the certaine bane should sinke,

Then I, not drinking it, into his handes should fall,

That hath no part of me as yet, ne ought to have at all.
Much more I ought with bold and with a willing hart
To greatest daunger yeld my selfe, and to the dedly smart,
To come to him on whom my life doth wholly stay,
That is my onely harts delight, and so he shall be aye."
Then goe, quoth he, my childe, I pray that God on hye
Direct thy foote, and by thy hand upon the way thee gye.
God graunt he so confirme in thee thy present will,
That no inconstant toy thee let thy promise to fulfill."

A thousand thankes and more our Juliet gave the frier,
And homeward to her fathers house joyfull she doth retyre;

And as with stately gate she passed through the streate,

She saw her mother in the doore, that with her there would

meete,

In mynde to aske if she her purpose yet dyd holde,

In mynde also, apart twixt them, her duety to have tolde;
Wherefore with pleasant face, and with her wonted chere,
As soone as she was unto her approched somewhat nere,
Before the mother spake, thus did she fyrst begin:

66

Madame, at sainct Frauncis churche have I this morning byn, Where I did make abode a longer while, percase,

Then dewty would; yet have I not been absent from this place
So long a while, without a great and just cause why;

This frute have I receaved there ;-my hart, erst lyke to dye,
Is now revived agayne, and my afflicted brest,

Released from affliction, restored is to rest!

For lo! my troubled gost, alas too sore diseasde

By gostly counsell and advise hath fryer Lawrence easde;
To whom I dyd at large discourse my former lyfe,
And in confession did I tell of all our passed stryfe:
Of Counte Paris sute, and how my lord, my syre,

By my ungrate and stubborne stryfe I styrred unto yre;
But lo, the holy fryer hath by his gostly lore

Made me another woman now than I had been before.
By strength of argumentes he charged so my mynde,

That, though I sought no sure defence my searching thought could find.

So forced I was at length to yield up witles will,

And promist to be ordered by the fryers praysed skill.

Wherefore, albeit I had rashely, long before,

The bed and rytes of mariage for many yeres forswore,
Yet mother, now behold your daughter at your will,

Ready, if you commaunde her aught, your pleasure to fulfill.
Wherefore in humble wise, dere madam, I you pray,

To

go unto my lord and syre, withouten long delay;

Of hym fyrst pardon crave of faultes already past,

And shew him, if it pleaseth you, his child is now at last
Obedient to his just and to his skilfull hest,

And that I will, God lending lyfe, on Wensday next, be prest

To wayte on him and you, unto thappoynted place,

Where I will, in your hearing, and before my fathers face,

Unto the Counte geve my fayth and whole assent,

And take him for my lord and spouse; thus fully am I bent ;
And that out of your mynde I may remove all doute,

Unto my closet fare I now, to searche and to choose out

The bravest garmentes and the richest jewels there,

Which, better him to please, I mynde on Wensday next to weare; For if I did excell the famous Gretian rape,

Yet might attyre helpe to amende my bewty and my shape."

VOL. VI.

Y

The simple mother was rapt into great delight;

Not halfe a word could she bring forth, but in this joyfull plight
With nimble foote she ran, and with unwonted pace,

Unto her pensive husband, and to him with pleasant face
She tolde what she had heard, and prayseth much the fryer;
And joyfull teares ranne downe the cheekes of this gray-berded
syer.

With hands and eyes heaved-up he thankes God in his hart,
And then he sayth: "This is not, wyfe, the fryers first desart;
Oft hath he showde to us great frendship heretofore,

By helping us at nedefull times with wisdomes pretious lore.
In all our common weale scarce one is to be founde

But is, for somme good torne, unto this holy father bounde.
Oh that the thyrd part of my goodes (I doe not fayne)
But twenty of his passed yeres might purchase him agayne!
So much in recompence of frendship would I

geve,

So much, in fayth, his extreme age my frendly hart doth greeve."
These said, the glad old man from home goeth straight abrode,
And to the stately palace hyeth where Paris made abode;
Whom he desyres to be on Wensday next his geast,

At Freetowne, where he myndes to make for him a costly feast.
But loe, the earle saith, such feasting were but lost,

And counsels him till mariage time to spare so great a cost.
For then he knoweth well the charges will be great;

The whilst, his hart desyreth still her sight, and not his meate.
He craves of Capilet that he may straight goe see
Fayre Juliet; wherto he doth right willingly agree.
The mother, warnde before, her daughter doth prepare;
She warneth and she chargeth her that in no wyse she spare
Her courteous speche, her pleasant lookes, and commely grace,
But liberally to geve them foorth when Paris commes in place :
Which she as cunningly could set forth to the shew,

As cunning craftsman to the sale do set theyr wares on rew;
That ere the County dyd out of her sight départ,

So secretly unwares to him she stale away his hart,

That of his lyfe and death the wily wench hath powre;

And now his longing hart thinkes long for theyr appoynted howre

And with importune sute the parents doth he pray

The wedlocke knot to knit soone up, and hast the mariage day. The woer hath past forth the fyrst day in this sort,

And many other more then this, in pleasure and disport.

At length the wished time of long hoped delight

(As Paris thought) drew nere; but nere approched heavy plight.

Agaynst the bridall day the parentes did prepare

Such rich attyre, such furniture, such store of dainty fare,
That they which did behold the same the night before,

Did thinke and say, a man could scarcely wish for any more.

Nothing did seeme to deere; the deerest thinges were bought;
And, as the written story sayth, in dede there wanted nought,
That longd to his degree, and honor of his stocke;
But Juliet, the whilst, her thoughts within her brest did locke;
Even from the trusty nurce, whose secretnes was tride,
The secret counsell of her hart the nurce-childe seekes
For sith, to mocke her dame, she did not sticke to lye,
She thought no sinne with shew of truth to blear her nurces eye.
In chaumber secretly the tale she gan renew,

to hyde.

That at the doore she told her dame, as though it had been trew.
The flattring nurce dyd prayse the fryer for his skill,

And said that she had done right well by wit to order will.
She setteth forth at large the fathers furious rage,

And eke she prayseth much to her the second marriage;

And County Paris now she prayseth ten times more,

By wrong, then she her selfe by right had Romeus praysde before.

Paris shall dwell there still, Romeus shall not retourne ;

What shall it boote her all her lyfe to languish still and mourne. The pleasures past before she must account as gayne;

But if he doe retorne-what then?-for one she shall have twayne, The one shall use her as his lawful wedded wyfe;

In wanton love with equal joy the other leade his lyfe;

And best shall she be sped of any townish dame,

Of husband and of paramour to fynde her chaunge of game.
These words and like the nurce did speake, in hope to please,
But greatly did these wicked wordes the ladies mynde disease;
But ay she hid her wrath, and seemed well content,
When dayly dyd the naughty nurce new argumentes invent.
But when the bryde perceived her howre aproched nere,

She sought, the best she could, to fayne, and tempered so her

cheere,

That by her outward looke no living wight could gesse

Her inward woe; and yet anew renewde is her distresse.
Unto her chaumber doth the pensive wight repayre,

And in her hand a percher light the nurce beares up the stayre.
In Juliets chaumber was her wonted use to lye ;

Wherefore her mistres, dreading that she should her work des

crye,

As soone as she began her pallet to unfold,

Thinking to lye that night where she was wont to lye of olde,
Doth gently pray her seeke her lodging some where els;
And, lest the crafty should suspect, a ready reason telles.
"Dere frend, quoth she, you knowe, tomorrow is the day
Of new contract; wherefore, this night, my purpose is to pray
Unto the heavenly myndes that dwell above the skyes,
And order all the course of thinges as they can best devyse,
That they so smyle upon the doinges of tomorow,

That all the remnant of my lyfe may be exempt from sorow :

Wherefore, I pray you, leave me here alone this night,
But see that you tomorow comme before the dawning light,
For you must coorle my heare, and set on my attyre;
And easely the loving nurce did yelde to her desyre,
For she within her hed dyd cast before no doute;

She little knew the close attempt her nurce-child went about.
The nurce departed once, the chamber door shut close,
Assured that no living wight her doing might disclose,

So powred forth into the vyole of the fryer,

Water, out of a silver ewer, that on the boord stoode by her.
The slepy mixture made, fayre Juliet doth it hyde
Under her bolster soft, and so unto her bed she hyed :

Where divers novel thoughts arise within her hed,
And she is so invironed about with deadly dred,
That what before she had resolved undoubtedly

The same she calleth into doute: and lying doutefully

Whilst honest love did strive with dred of dedly payne,

With handes y-wrong, and weeping eyes, thus gan she to com

plaine :

"What, is there any one, beneth the heavens hye,

So much unfortunate as I? so much past hope as I?

What, am I not my selfe, of all that yet were borne,

The depest drenched in dispayre, and most in Fortunes skorne?
For loe the world for me hath nothing els to finde,

Beside mishap and wretchednes and anguish of the mynde;
Since that the cruell cause of my unhapines

Hath put me to this sodayne plonge, and brought to such distres.
As, to the end I may my name and conscience save,

I must devowre the mixed drinke that by me here I have,
Whose working and whose force as yet I do not know.—”
And of this piteous plaint began an other doute to growe :
"What do I know, (quoth she) if that this powder shall
Sooner or later then it should or els not woorke at all?
And then my craft descride as open as the day,

The peoples tale and laughing stocke shall I remain for aye.
And what know I, quoth she, if serpentes odious,

And other beastes and wormes that are of nature venomous,

That wonted are to lurke in darke caves under grounde,

And commonly, as I have heard, in dead mens tombes are found,
Shall harme me, yea or nay, where I shall lye as ded ?—
Or how shall I that alway have in so freshe ayre been bred,
Endure the loathsome stinke of such an heaped store

Of carcases, not yet consumde, and bones that long before
Intombed were, where I my sleping place shall have,

Where all my auncesters do rest, my kindreds common grave?
Shall not the fryer and my Romeus, when they come,
Fynd me, if I awake before, y-stifled in the tombe?

And whilst she in these thoughts doth dwell somwhat too long, The force of her ymagining anon doth waxe so strong,