This was my fyrst conceite,-that all her ruth arose Somme greater thing, not Tybalts death, this chaunge in her hath wrought. Her selfe assured me that many days agoe She shed the last of Tybalts teares; which words amasd me so Is grudging envies faint disease; perchance she doth disdayne That may be meete for our degree, and much about her age: So we her parentes, in our age, shall live in quiet rest." And to the mothers skilfull talke thus straightway aunswered he. Scarce saw she yet full sixteen yeres,-too yong to be a bryde. A husband for our daughter yong, her sicknes faynt to cure, And she recover soone enough the time she seemes to loose. Then to our daughters quiet lyfe, and to her happy helth: Whose chorlish dealing, (I once dead) should be her cause of mone." This pleasaunt aunswer heard, the lady partes agayne, And Capilet, the maydens syre, within a day or twayne, Conferreth with his frendes for marriage of his daughter, And many gentilmen there were, with busy care that sought her; Both, for the mayden was well-shaped, yong and fayre, As also well brought up, and wise; her fathers onely heyre. Emong the rest was one inflamde with her desyre, And easely unto the earle he maketh his behest, How happy hap, how mete a match, he had found out that day; But straight she hyeth to Juliet; to her she telles, apart, His youthfull yeres, his fayrenes, and his port, and seemely grace, skyes. She vauntes his race, and gyftes that Fortune did him geve, Whereto both love and reasons right forbod her to assent, But with unwonted boldnes straight into these wordes she brake: 66 Of me your childe your jewell once, your onely joy and care, Before you know if I do lyke or els mislike my lover. If you do as you say you will, I yelde not there untill. For had I choyse of twayne, farre rather would I choose My part of all your goodes and eke my breath and lyfe to loose, And you, my mother, shall becomme the murdresse of my lyfe, Ne ought, to love: wherefore, on knees, deere mother, I you pray, To let me live henceforth, as I have lived tofore; Ceasse all your troubles for my sake, and care for me no more; In her it lyeth to do me boote, in her it lyeth to spill. Of these her daughters woords, but all appalde she standes, handes. And, nigh besyde her selfe, her husband hath she sought; Sendes forth his folke in haste for her, and byds them take no leysure; Ne on her tears or plaint at all to have remorse, But, if they cannot with her will, to bring the mayde perforce. Of whom, as much as duety would, the daughter stoode in awe, Whom they not onely might pledge, alienate, and sell, rage (When so they stoode in neede) but more, if children did rebell, The parentes had the powre of lyfe and sodayn death. What if those good men should agayne receve the living breth? In how straight bondes would they the stubborne body bynde? What weapons would they seeke for thee? what torments would they fynde. To chasten, if they saw the lewdness of thy life, Thy great unthankfulnes to me, and shameful sturdy stryfe? So rich ere long he shal be left, his fathers welth is such, From whence his father came: and yet thou playest in this case Thou dost refuse thy offered weale, and disobey my will. Even by his strength I sweare, that fyrst did geve me lyfe, And at our castle cald Freetowne thou freely do assent To whatsoever then shall passe twixt him, my wife, and me, From thee, to those that shall me love, me honor, and obay, I shall thee wed, for all thy life, that sure thou shalt not fayle A thousand times a day to wishe for sodayn death, And curse the day and howre when fyrst thy lunges did geve thee breath. Advise thee well, and say that thou are warned now, And thinke not that I speake in sporte, or mynde to break my vowe. For were it not that I to Counte Paris gave My fayth, which I must keepe unfalst, my honor so to save, That thou shouldst once for all be taught thy dutie how to knowe; Agaynst theyre children that rebeld, and shewd them selfe un kinde." These sayde, the olde man straight is gone in haste away; Ne for his daughters aunswere would the testy father stay. And after him his wyfe doth follow out of doore, And there they leave theyr chidden childe kneeling upon the floore, Then she that oft had seene the fury of her syre. Dreading what might come of his rage, nould farther styrre his yre. Unto her chaumber she withdrew her selfe aparte, Where she was wonted to unlode the sorrows of her hart. As (overprest with restles thoughts) in piteous booteless weeping. The fast falling of teares make not her teares decrease, Ne, by the powring forth of playnt, the cause of plaint to cease. So that to thend the mone and sorow may decaye, The best is that she seeke somme meane to take the cause away. Her wery bed betyme the woful wight forsakes, And to saint Frauncis church, to masse, her way devoutly takes. In mynde to powre foorth all the greefe that inwardly she feeles, Her voyce with piteous playnt was made already horce, And hasty sobs, when she would speake, brake of her woordes perforce. But as she may, peace meale, she powreth in his lappe The mariage newes, a mischefe new, prepared by mishappe; Her fathers threats she telleth him, and thus concludes at last : "Once was I wedded well, ne will I wed againe ; For since I know I may not be the wedded wife of twaine, With these two handes, which joynde unto the heavens I stretch, Will bring the end of all her cares by ending carefull lyfe. And eke my blood unto the earth beare record, how that I Have kept my fayth unbroke, stedfast unto my frend." When thys her heavy tale was told, her vowe eke at an ende, Her gasing here and there, her feerce and staring looke, Did witnes that some lewd attempt her hart had undertooke. Whereat the fryer astonde, and gastfully afrayde Lest she by dede perfourme her woord, thus much to her he sayde: "Ah! Lady Juliet, what nede the wordes you spake ? I pray you, graunt me one request, for blessed Maries sake. That you shall hence depart againe with well contented mynde." And he out of the church in haste is to the chaumber gonne; To let her take Paris to spouse, since he him selfe hath byn His restles thoughts hath heaped up within his troubled hed. The execution eke he demes so much more daungerous, That yong is, simple and unware, for waighty affayres unfit. |