ABSTRACT
Tlte Tragicall Historye of Romeus and Juliet 287 Helpe learned Pallas, helpe, ye muses with your arte, Helpe all ye damned feendes to tell, of joyes retournd to smart, Helpe eke ye sisters three, my skillesse penne t 'indyte For you it causd which I (alas) unable am to wryte. There were two auncient stocJ<,es, which Fortune high dyd place Above the rest, indewd with welth, and nobler of their race, Loved of the common sort, loved of the Prince alike, And like unhappy were they both, when Fortune list to strike. Whose prayse with equall blast, fame in her trumpet blew: The one was cliped Capelet, and thother Montagew. 30 A wonted use it is, that men of likely sorte (I wot not by what furye forsd) envye eche others porte. So these, whose egall state bred envye pale of hew, And then of grudging envyes roote, blacke hate and rancor grewe. As of a little sparke, oft ryseth mighty fyre, So of a kyndled sparke of grudge, in flames flashe out theyr yre, And then theyr deadly foode, first hatchd of trifling stryfe Did bathe in bloud of smarting woundes, it re[a]ved breth and lyfe. No legend lye I tell, scarce yet theyr eyes be drye That did behold the grisly sight, with wet and weping eye. 40 But when the prudent prince, who there the scepter helde, So great a new disorder in his common weale behelde By jentyl meane he sought, their choler to asswage, And by perswasion to appease, their blameful furious rage. But both his woords and tyme, the prince hath spent in vayne So rooted was the inward hate, he lost his buysy payne. When frendly sage advise, ne jentyll woords avayle, By thondring threats, and princely powre their courage gan he
quayle, In hope that when he had the wasting flame supprest, In time he should quyte quench the sparks that boornd within
their brest. 50 Now whilst these kyndreds do remayne in this estate, And eche with outward frendly shew dooth hyde his inward hate, One Romeus, who was of race a Montague, Upon whose tender chyn, as yet, no manlyke beard there grewe, Whose beauty and whose shape so farre the rest did stayne, That from the cheefe of Veron youth he greatest fame dyd gayne, Hath founde a mayde so fayre (he found so foule his happe) Whose beauty, shape, and comely grace, did so his heart entrappe, That from his owne affayres, his thought she did remove, Onely he sought to honor her, to serve her, and to love. fin To her he writeth oft, oft messengers are sent:
