This furious fray is long on eche side stoutly fought, That whether part had got the woorst, full doutfull were the thought.
The noyse hereof anon throughout the towne doth flye,
And parts are taken on euery side; both kinreds thether hye.
Here one doth gaspe for breth, his frend bestrideth him;
And he hath lost a hand, and he another maymed lym:
His leg is cutte whilst he strikes at an other full,
And who he would haue thrust quite through, hath cleft hys cracked skull.
Theyr valiant harts forbode theyr foote to geue the grounde; With vnappauled cheere they tooke full deepe and doutfull
Thus foote by foote long while, and shield to shield set fast,
One foe doth make another faynt, but makes him not agast.
And whilst this noyse is ryfe in euery townes mans eare,
Eke, walking with his frendes, the noyse doth wofull Romeus
heare.
With spedy foote he ronnes vnto the fray apace;
With him, those fewe that were with him he leadeth to the place. They pittie much to see the slaughter made so greate,
That wetshod they might stand in blood on eyther side the
Part frendes, (said he,) part frendes, helpe, frendes, to part the
And to the rest, enough, (he cryes) now time it is to staye.
Gods farther wrath you styrre, beside the hurt you feele,
And with this new vprore confounde all this our common wele.
But they so busy are in fight, so egar, feerce,
That through theyr eares his sage aduise no leysure had to pearce.
Then lept he in the throng, to part and barre the blowes
As well of those that were his frendes, as of his dedly foes.
As soon as Tybalt had our Romeus espyde,
He threw a thrust at him that would have past from side to side; But Romeus euer went, (douting his foes,) well armde,
So that the swerd, (kept out by mayle,) had nothing Romeus
Thou doest me wrong, (quoth he,) for I but part the fraye;
Not dread, but other waighty cause my hasty hand doth stay.
Thou art the cheefe of thine, the noblest eke thou art,
Wherfore leaue of thy malice now, and helpe these folke to part.
Many are hurt, some slayne, and some are like to dye :-
No, coward, traytor boy, (quod he,) straight way I mynd to trye,
Whether thy sugred talke, and tong so smoothely fylde,
Against the force of this my swerd shall serue thee for a shylde.
And then, at Romeus hed a blow he strake so hard
That might haue cloue him to the brayne but for his cunning ward.
It was but lent to him that could repay agayne,
And geue him death for interest, a well-forborne gayne.
Right as a forest bore, that lodged in the thicke,
Pinched with dog, or els with speare ypricked to the quicke,
His bristles stiffe vpright vpon his backe doth set,
And in his fomy mouth his sharp and crooked tuskes doth whet; Or as a Lyon wylde, that rampeth in his rage,
His whelpes bereft, whose fury can no weaker beast asswage;-
Such seemed Romeus in euery others sight,
When he him shope, of wrong receaude tauenge himself by fight.
Euen as two thunderbolts throwne downe out of the skye,
That through the ayre, the massy earth, and seas, haue powre to
flye;
So met these two, and while they chaunge a blow or twayne, Our Romeus thrust him through the throte, and so is Tybalt slayne.
Loe here the ende of those that styre a dedly stryfe!
Who thyrsteth after others death, himselfe hath lost his life.
The Capilets are quaylde by Tybalts ouerthrowe,
The courage of the Mountagewes by Romeus fight doth growe.
The townesmen waxen strong, the Prince doth send his force;
The fray hath end. The Capilets do bring the bretheles corce
Before the prince, and craue that cruell dedly payne
May be the guerdon of his falt, that hath their kinsman slaine.
The Montagewes do pleade theyr Romeus voyde of falt;
The lookers on do say, the fight begonne was by Tybalt.
The prince doth pawse, and then geues sentence in a while,
That Romeus, for sleying him, should goe into exyle.
His foes would have him hangde, or sterue in prison strong;
His frendes do think, (but dare not say,) that Romeus hath wrong.
Both housholds straight are charged on payne of losing lyfe,
Theyr bloudy weapons layd aside, to cease the styrred stryfe.
This common plage is spred through all the towne anon,
From side to side the towne is fild with murmour and with mone.
For Tybalts hasty death bewayled was of somme,
Both for his skill in feates of armes, and for, in time to comme
He should, (had this not chaunced,) ben riche and of great powre,
To helpe his frendes, and serue the state; which hope within a
Was wasted quite, and he, thus yelding vp his breath,
More then he holpe the towne in lyfe, hath harmde it by his death.
And other somme bewayle, (but ladies most of all,)
The lookeles lot by Fortunes gylt that is so late befall,
(Without his falt,) vnto the seely Romeus;
For whilst that he from natife land shall liue exyled thus,
From heauenly bewties light and his welshaped parts,
The sight of which was wont, (faire dames,) to glad your youthfull harts,
Shall you be banishd quite, and tyll he do retoorne,
What hope haue you to ioy, what hope to cease to moorne?
This Romeus was borne so much in heauens grace,
Of Fortune and of Nature so beloued, that in his face
(Beside the heauenly bewty glistring ay so bright,
And seemely grace that wonted so to glad the seers sight)
A certain charme was graued by Natures secret arte,
That vertue had to draw to it the loue of many a hart.
So euery one doth wish to beare a parte of payne,
That he released of exyle might straight retorne againe,
But how doth moorne emong the moorners Juliet!
How doth she bathe her brest in teares! what depe sighes doth
How doth she tear her heare! her weede how doth she rent!
How fares the louer hearing of her louers banishment!
How wayles she Tibalts death, whom she had loued so well!
Her hearty greefe and piteous plaint, cunning I want to tell.
For deluing depely now in depth of depe dispayre,
With wretched sorowes cruell sound she fils the empty ayre;
And to the lowest hell downe falles her heauy crye,
And vp vnto the heauens haight her piteous plaint doth flye.
The waters and the woods of sighes and sobs resounde,
And from the hard resounding rockes her sorowes do rebounde.
Eke from her teary eyne downe rayned many a showre,
That in the garden where she walkd might water herbe and flowre.
But when at length she saw her selfe outraged so,
Vnto her chaumber there she hide; there, ouerchargd with
Vpon her stately bed her painfull parts she threw,
And in so wondrous wise began her sorowes to renewe,
That sure no hart so hard (but it of flint had byn,)
But would haue rude the piteous plaint that she did languishe in.
Then rapt out of her selfe, whilst she on euery side
Did cast her restles eye, at length the windowe she espide,
Through which she had with ioye seen Romeus many a time,
Which oft the ventrous knight was wont for Juliets sake to
clyme.
She cryde, O cursed windowe! acurst be euery pane, Through which, (alas!) to sone I raught the cause of life and
If by thy meane I haue some slight delight receaued,
Or els such fading pleasure as by Fortune straight was reaued,
Hast thou not made me pay a tribute rigorous
Of heaped greefe and lasting care, and sorowes dolorous?
That these my tender partes, which nedefull strength do lacke
To beare so great vnweldy lode vpon so weake a backe,
Opprest with waight of cares and with these sorowes rife,
At length must open wide to death the gates of lothed lyfe;
That so my wery sprite may somme where els vnlode
His dedly lode, and free from thrall may seeke els where abrode;
For pleasant quiet ease and for assured rest,
Which I as yet could neuer finde but for my more vnrest?
O Romeus, when first we both acquainted were,
When to thy paynted promises I lent my listning eare,
Which to the brinkes you fild with many a solemne othe,
And I them iudgde empty of gyle, and fraughted full of troth,
I thought you rather would continue our good will,
And seek tappease our fathers strife, which daily groweth still.
I little wend you would haue sought occasion how
By such an heynous act to breake the peace and eke
Whereby your bright renoune all whole yclipsed is,
And I vnhappy, husbandles, of cumforte robde and blisse.
But if you did so much the blood of Capels thyrst,
Why have you often spared mine? myne might haue quencht
Synce that so many times and in so secret place,
(Where you were wont with vele of loue to hyde your hatreds face,)
My doubtful lyfe hath hapt by fatall dome to stand
In mercy of your cruell hart, and of your bloudy hand.
What! seemd the conquest which you got of me so small? What! seemd it not enough that I, poore wretch, was made your thrall?
But that you must increase it with that kinsmans blood,
Which for his woorth and loue to me, most in my fauour stood? Well, goe hencefoorth els where, and seeke an other whyle Some other as vnhappy as I, by flattry to begyle.
And, where I comme, see that you shonne to shew your face,
your excuse within my hart shall finde no resting place.
And I that now, too late, my former fault repent,
Will so the rest of wery life with many teares lament,
That soon my ioyceles corps shall yeld vp banishd breath,
And where on earth it restles liued, in earth seeke rest by death.
These sayde, her tender hart, by payne oppressed sore,
Restraynd her tears, and forced her tong to keepe her talke in
And then as still she was, as if in sownd she lay,
And then agayne, wroth with herselfe, with feble voyce gan say:
“Ah cruell murthering tong, murthrer of others fame,
How durst thou once attempt to tooch the honor of his name?
Whose dedly foes doe yelde him dewe and earned prayse;
For though his fredome be bereft, his honor not decayes.
Why blamst thou Romeus for sleying of Tybalt,
Since he is gyltles quite of all, and Tibalt beares the falt?
Whether shall he, (alas!) poore banishd man, now flye?
What place of succor shall he seeke beneth the starry skye?
Synce she pursueth hym, and him defames by wrong,
That in distres should be his fort, and onely rampier strong.
Receiue the recompence, O Romeus, of thy wife,
Who, for she was vnkind her selfe, doth offer vp
her lyfe,
In flames of yre, in sighes, in sorow and in ruth,
So to revenge the crime she did commit against thy truth."
These said, she could no more; her senses all gan fayle,
And dedly panges began straightway her tender hart assayle;
Her limmes she stretched forth, she drew no more her breath:
Who had been there might well haue seene the signes of present
The nurce that knew no cause why she absented her,
Did doute lest that some sodain greefe too much tormented her.
Eche where but where she was, the carefull Beldam sought,
Last, of the chamber where she lay she haply her bethought;
Where she with piteous eye her nurce-childe did beholde,
Her limmes stretched out, her vtward parts as any marble colde.
The nurce supposde that she had payde to death her det,
And then, as she had lost her wittes, she cryde to Juliet:
Ah! my dere hart, quoth she, how greeueth me thy death!
Alas! what cause hast thou thus soone to yelde up liuing breath?
But while she handled her, and chafed euery part,
She knew there was some sparke of life by beating of her hart,
So that a thousand times she cald vpon her name;
There is no way to helpe a traunce but she hath tryde the same:
She openeth wide her mouth, she stoppeth close her nose,
She bendeth downe her brest, she wringes her fingers and her
And on her bosome colde she layeth clothes hot;
A warmed and a holesome iuyce she powreth downe her throte.
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