ABSTRACT
Romeo and Juliet Where she is woont to shew her heart by checrefull frendly face. And lest the arbors might theyr secret love hewraye, He doth keepe backe his forward foote from passing there by daye. But when on earth the night her mantel blacke hath spred, Well armd he walketh foorth alone, ne dreadfull foes doth dred. Whom maketh love not bold, naye whom makes he not blynde? He reveth daungers dread oft times out of the lovers mind e. 460 By night he passeth here, a weeke or two in vayne And for the missing of his marke, his griefe hath him nyc slaine. And Juliet that now doth lacke her hearts releefe, Her Romeus pleasant eyen (I meene) is almost dead for greefe. Eche day she chaungeth howres, (for lovers keepe an howre) When they are sure to see theyr love, in passing by their bowre. Impacient of her woe, she hapt to Jeane one night Within her window, and anon the Moone did shine so bright That she espyde her love, her hart revived, sprang And now for joy she clappes her handes, which erst for woe
she wrang. 4 70 Eke Romeus, when he sawe his long desired sight, His moorning cloke of mone cast off, hath clad him with delight. Yet dare I say, of both, that she rejoyced more: His care was great, hers twise as great, was all the tyme before, For whilst she knew not why he dyd himselfe absent, Ay clouting both his health and lyfe, his death she dyd lament. For love is fearefull oft, where is no cause of feare And what love feares, that love laments, as though it chaunced
weare. Of greater cause alway is greater woorke ybred: While he nought douteth of her helth, she dreads lest he he
ded. 480 When onely absence is the cause of Romeus smart: By happy hope of sight agayne he feedes his faynting hart. What woonder then if he were wrapt in Jesse annoye? What marvell if by sodain sight she fed of greater joye? His smaller greefe or joy no smaller love doo prove Ne, for she passed him in both, did she him passe in love. But eche of them alike dyd burne in equall flame, The welbeloving knight, and eke the welbeloved dame. Now whilst with bitter teares her eyes as fountaynes ronne, With whispering voyce, ybroke with sobs, thus is her tale
begonne. 490 Oh Romeus (of your lyfe) too lavas1 sure you are,
