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, If that you love the daughter well, to bleare the mothers eyes! To mock the sely mother, that suspecteth nothing lesse. For all my many yeres perhaps I should have found it scarse. To get her leave, some feate excuse I will devise anone; For that her golden lockes by sloth have been unkempt, Or for unawares some wanton dreame the youthfull damsell drempt, 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; Lord howe it could full pretely have prated with it tong! And clapt her on the buttocke soft, and kist where I did clappe. Then I had been to have a kisse of some old lecher's mouth. And of her present state to make a tedious long discourse. The message aunswer seemed him to be of more behove. The day and eke the candle light before theyr talke shall fayle. 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 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 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 face: Good newes for thee, my gyrle, good tydinges I thee bring, Of all this towne, and there is none hath halfe so good a grace: So gentle of his speeche, and of his counsell wise:- But of our marriage, say at once, what answere have you brought? I list not play (quod Juliet), although thou list to toye. And then (said she) he spake to me, and then I spake him thus. 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. The pleasure that I lost, that year so overpast, A thousand times I have bewept, and shall, whyle life doth last. When thou maist live in happy joy, to set light by thy blisse." 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 spare. Two sorts of men there are, seeld welcome in at doore, There is no better way to fishe than with a golden hooke, Of Romeus these two do sitte and chat awhyle, And 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 mother sends a mayd almost of equall trust. 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 commes with pleasant cheere; neere. Some great offence (quod he) you have committed late, Perhaps you have displeasd your frend by geving him a mate. Go heare a masse or two, (quod he) which straightway shall be sayde. For, her confession heard, I will unto you twayne The charge that I received of you restore to you agayne. That for this trusty fryre hath chaungd 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. For now the rest of all her parts hath found her straying hart. As farre as I of Romeus learne, who by you stondeth here, 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 wedlock 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,- To whom the frier then said: Perchaunce apart you will disclose, 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 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 merchant eke that nedefull thinges doth dred to fetch from farre, The ploughman that, for doute of feerce invading foes, Not pleasurd with the sound so much, but, when the warres de 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: And dedly warre by striving thoughts they kepe within their brest Thy stearles ship, O Romeus, hath been long while betost; Art come in sight of quiet haven; and, now the wrackfull barr 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! That with his lyfe, if nede requierd, his maister would him trust. And therefore all that yet was done unto his man he tolde. To which he hath made fast two strong and crooked yron hookes. To whom the brydegroome geven hath the ladder that he got. For, whether Fortune smyle on him, or if she list to lowre, Where wont he was to take by stelth the view of Juliets face. Thappointed howre is comme; he, clad in riche araye, Walkes toward his desyred home:-good fortune gyde his way! Approaching nere the place from whence his hart had lyfe, So light he wox, he lept the wall, and there he spyde his wyfe, Who in the window watcht the comming of her lord; Where she so surely had made fast the ladder made of corde, That daungerles her spouse the chaumber window climes, Where he ere then had wisht himselfe above ten thousand tymes. The windowes close are shut; els looke they for no gest; To light the waxen quariers, the auncient nurce is prest, Which Juliet had before prepared to be light, That she at pleasure might behold her husbands bewty bright. Such as she wonted was to weare, atyre meete for the bed. And by her long and slender armes a great while there she hong. A thousand times she kist, and him unkist againe, Ne could she speake a woord to him, though would she nere so fayne. And like betwixt his armes to faint his lady is; She fets a sigh and clappeth close her closed mouth to his : That lo, it made him both at once to live and eke to dye. And she unto herselfe againe retorned home at last. Then, through her troubled brest, even from the farthest part, An hollow sigh, a messenger she sendeth from her hart. O Romeus, (quod she) in whom all vertues shine, Welcome thou art into this place, where from these eyes of mine I force it not; let Fortune do and death their woorst to me. Full recompensd am I for all my passed harmes, In that the Gods have graunted me to claspe thee in mine armes. The chrystall teares began to stand in Romeus eyes, When he unto his ladies woordes gan aunswere in this wise: "Though cruell Fortune be so much my deadly foe, That I ne can by lively proofe cause thee, fayre dame, to know How much I am by love enthralled unto thee, Ne yet what mighty powre thou hast, by thy desert, on me, Ne torments that for thee I did ere this endure, Yet of thus much (ne will I fayne) I may thee well assure; More painfully than death it selfe my tender hart hath wroong. |