And then the ancient frier, that greatly stood in feare
Lest if they lingred over long they should be taken theare,

position of her death she had been buried; and, knowing that the time was now arrived when the powder should cease to operate, taking with him a trusty companion, about an hour before day he came to the vault; where being arrived, he heard the cries and lamentations of the lady, and, through a crevice in the cover, seeing a light within, he was greatly surprised, and imagined that, by some means or other, the damsel had contrived to convey with her a lamp into the tomb; and that now, having awaked, she wept and lamented, either through fear of the dead bodies by which she was surrounded, or perhaps from the apprehension of being for ever immured in this dismal place; and having, with the assistance of his companion, speedily opened the tomb, he beheld Julietta, who, with hair all disheveled, and sadly grieving, had raised herself so far as to be seated, and had taken into her lap her dying lover. To her he thus addressed himself: Did you then fear, O my daughter, that I should have left you to die here inclosed? and she, seeing the friar, and redoubling her lamentations, answered: Far from it; my only fear is that you will drag me hence alive!-alas, for the love of God, away, and close the sepulcher, that I may here perish,- -or rather reach me a knife, that piercing my breast, I may rid myself of my woes! O, my father, my father! is it thus you have sent me the letter? are these my hopes of happy marriage? is it thus you have conducted me to my Romeo? behold him here in my bosom already dead!--and, pointing to him, she recounted all that had passed. The friar, hearing these things, stood as one bereft of sense, and gazing upon the young man, then ready to pass from this into another life, bitterly weeping, he called to him, saying, O, Romeo, what hard hap has torn you from me? speak to me at least! cast your eyes a moment upon me! O, Romeo, behold your dearest Julietta, who beseeches you to look at her. Why at the least will you not answer her in whose dear bosom you lie? At the beloved name of his mistress, Romeo raised a little his languid eyes, weighed down by the near approach of death, and, looking at her, reclosed them; and, immediately after, death thrilling through his whole frame, all convulsed, and heaving a short sigh, he expired.

"The miserable lover being now dead in the manner I have related, as the day was already approaching, after much lamentation the friar thus addressed the young damsel:-And you Julietta, what do you mean to do?-to which she instantly replied, -here inclosed will I die. Say not so, daughter, said he; come forth from hence; for, though I know not well how to dispose of you, the means can not be wanting of shutting yourself up in some holy monastery, where you may continually offer your supplications to God, as well for yourself as for your deceased husband, if he should need your prayers. Father, replied the lady, one favour alone I entreat of you, which for the love you hear to the

In few plaine woordes the whole that was betyde, he tolde, And with his fingar shewd his corps out-stretched, stiffe, and colde;

And then pursuaded her with pacience to abyde

This sodain great mischaunce, and sayth, that he will soone provyde

In some religious house for her a quiet place,

Where she may spend the rest of ly fe, and where in time percase She may with wisdomes meane measure her mourning brest, And unto her tormented soule call back exiled rest.

But loe, as soon as she had cast her ruthfull eye

On Romeus face, that pale and wan fast by her side dyd lye,
Straight way she dyd unstop the conduites of her teares,

And out they gushe;-with cruell hand she tare her golden heares.
But when she neither could her swelling sorow swage,

Ne yet her tender hart abyde her sicknes furious rage,
Falne on his corps she lay long panting on his face,

And then with all her force and strength the ded corps did em

brace,

As though with sighes, with sobs, with force, and busy payne,
She would him rayse, and him restore from death to lyfe agayne:
A thousand times she kist his mouth, as cold as stone,
And it unkist againe as oft; then gan she thus to mone:

memory of him,-and so saying she pointed to Romeo,-you will willingly grant me, and that is, that you will never make known our death, that so our bodies may for ever remain united in this sepulcher: and if, by any accident, the manner of our dying should be discovered, by the love already mentioned I conjure you, that in both our names you would implore our miserable parents that they should make no difficulty of suffering those whom love has consumed in one fire, and conducted to one death, to remain in one and the same tomb;-then turning to the prostrate body of Romeo, whose head she had placed on a pillow which had been left with her in the vault, having carefully closed his eyes, and bathing his cold visage with tears,-lord of my heart, said she, without you what should I do with life? and what more remains to be done by me toward you but to follow you in death? certainly nothing more! in order that death itself, which alone could pos. sibly have separated you from me, should not now be able to part us!-and having thus spoken, reflecting upon the horrour of her destiny, and calling to mind the loss of her dear lover, determined no longer to live, she suppressed her respiration, and for a long space holding in her breath, at length sent it forth with a loud cry, and fell dead upon the dead body.”

For the foregoing faithful and elegant translation, as well as that in a former page, I am indebted to a most dear and valued friend, whose knowledge of the Italian language is so much superior to any that I can pretend to, that I am confident no reader will regret that the task has been executed by another. Malone.

"Ah pleasant prop of all my thoughts, ah onely grounde

Of all the sweete delightes that yet in all my lyfe I founde,
Did such assured trust within thy hart repose,

That in this place and at this time, thy church-yard thou hast

chose,

Betwixt the armes of me, thy perfect loving make,

And thus by meanes of me to ende thy life, and for my sake! Even in the flowring of thy youth, when unto thee

Thy lyfe most deare (as to the most) and pleasant ought to bee, How could this tender corps withstand the cruell fight

Of furious death, that wonts to fray the stoutest with his sight?
How could thy dainty youth agree with willing hart

In this so fowle infected place to dwell, where now thou art?
Where spitefull Fortune hath appoynted thee to bee

The dainte foode of greedy wormes, unworthy sure of thee.
Alas, alas, alas, what neded now anew

My won'ed sorowes, doubled twise, againe thus to renewe:
Which both the time and eke my patient long abode

Should now at length have quenched quite, and under foote have

trode?

Ah wretch and caytive that I am, even when I thought

To fynd my painfull passions salve, I myst the thing I sought; And to my mortall harme the fatal knife I grounde,

That gave to me so depe, so wide, so cruell dedly wounde.

Ah thou, most fortunate and most unhappy tombe!

For thou shalt beare, from age to age, witnes in time to comme Of the most perfect league betwixt a payre of lovers,

That were the most unfortunate and fortunate of others;

Receave the latter sigh, receave the latter pang,

Of the most cruell of cruell slaves that wrath and death ay

wrang."

And when our Juliet would continue still her mone,

The fryer and the servant fled, and left her there alone;

For they a sodayne no se fast by the place did heare,

And lest they might be taken there, greatly they stoode in

feare

When Juliet saw herselfe left in the vaulte alone,

That freely she might woorke her will, for let or stay was none,
Then once for all she tooke the cause of all her harmes,
The body dead of Romeus, and clasped it in her armes;

Then she with earnest kisse sufficiently did prove,

That more then by the feare of death, she was attaint by love;
And then, past deadly feare, (for ly fe ne had she care)

With hasty hand she did draw out the dagger that he ware.
"O welcome death, quoth she, end of unhappines,
That also art beginning of assured happines,
Feare not to dart me nowe, thy stripe no longer stay,
Prolong no longer now my lyfe, I hate this long delaye;
For straight my parting sprite, out of this carkas fled,
At ease shall finde my Romeus sprite emong so many ded.

And thou my loving lord, Romeus, my trusty feere,

If knowledge yet doe rest in thee, if thou these woordes dost heer,
Receve thou her, whom thou didst love so lawfully,

That causd alas! thy violent death, although unwillingly;
And therefore willingly offers to thee her gost,

To thend that no wight els but thou might have just cause to boste

Thinjoying of my love, which ay I have reserved

Free from the rest, bound unto thee, that hast it well deserved:
That so our parted sprites from light that we see here,
In place of endlesse light and blisse may ever live y-fere."

These said, her ruthlesse hand through gyrt her valiant hart: Ah, ladies, helpe with teares to wayle the ladies dedly smart! She grones, she stretcheth out her limmes, she shuttes her eyes, And from her corps the sprite doth flye;-what should I say? she

dyes.

The watchmen of the towne the whilst are passed by,

And through the gates the candle light within the tombe they spye;
Whereby they did suppose inchaunters to be comme,

That with prepared instruments had opend wide the tombe,
In purpose to abuse the bodies of the ded,

Which, by their science ayde abusde, do stand them oft in sted.
Theyr curious harts desyre the truth hereof to know;

Then they by certaine steppes descend, where they do fynd below, In clasped armes y-wrapt the husband and the wyfe,

In whom as yet they seemd to see somme certaine markes of lyfe.

But when more curiously with levsure they did vew,

The certainty of both theyr deathes assuredly they knew:
Then here and there so long with carefull eye they sought,
That at the length hidden they found the murtherers;-so they
thought.

In dungeon depe that night they lodgde them under grounde;
The next day do they tell the prince the mischiefe that they found.
The newes was by and by throughout the towne dyspred,
Both of the taking of the fryer, and of the two found ded.
Thether you might have seene whole housholds forth to ronne,
For to the tombe where they did heare this wonder straunge was
donne,

The great, the small, the riche, the poore, the yong, the olde,
With hasty pace do ronne to see, but rew when they beholde.
And that the murtherers to all men might be knowne,

(Like as the murders brute abrode through all the towne was blowne)

The prince did straight ordaine, the corses that were founde
Should be set forth upon a stage hye raysed from the grounde,
Right in the selfe same fourme, shewde forth to all mens sight,
That in the hollow valt they had been found that other night;
And eke that Romeus man and fryer Lawrence should
Be openly examined; for els the people would

Have murmured, or faynd there were some waighty cause
Why openly they were not calde, and so convict by lawes.
The holy fryer now, and reverent by his age,

In great reproche set to the shew upon the open stage,
(A thing that ill beseemde a man of silver heares)

His beard as whyte as mylke he bathes with great fast-falling

teares:

Whom straight the dredfull judge commaundeth to declare Both, how this murther hath been donne, and who the murther

ers are;

For that he nere the tombe was found at howres unfitte,

And had with hym those yron tooles for such a purpose fitte.
The frier was of lively sprite and free of speche,

The judges words appald him not, ne were his wittes to seeche.
But with advised heed a whyle fyrst did he stay,

And then with bold assured voyce aloud thus gan he say:
"My lordes, there is not one among you, set togyther,
So that, affection set aside, by wisdome he consider

My former passed lyfe, and this my extreme age,

And eke this heavy sight, the wreke of frantike Fortunes rage, But that, amased much, doth wonder at this chaunge,

So great, so sodainly befalne, unlooked for, and straunge.

For I that in the space of sixty yeres and tenne,

Since fyrst I did begin, to soone, to lead my lyfe with men,
And with the worldes vaine thinges myselfe I did acquaint,
Was never yet, in open place, at any time attaynt
With any cryme, in weight as heavy as a rushe,

Ne is there any stander by can make me gylty blushe;
Although before the face of God I doe confesse

Myselfe to be the sinfulst wretch of all this mighty presse.
When readiest I am and likeliest to make

My great accompt, which no man els for me shall undertake;
When wormes, the earth, and death, doe cyte me every howrę,
Tappeare before the judgment seate of everlasting powre,
And falling ripe I steppe upon my graves brinke,

Even then, am I, most wretched wight, as eche of you doth

thinke,

Through my most haynous deede, with hedlong sway throwne downe,

In greatest daunger of my lyfe, and damage of renowne. The spring, whence in your head this new conceite doth ryse, (And in your hart increaseth still your vayne and wrong sur

mise)

May be the hugenes of these teares of myne, percase,
That so abundantly downe fall by eyther syde my face;
As though the memory in scriptures were not kept
That Christ our Saviour himselfe for ruth and pitie wept:
And more, who so will reade, y-written shall he fynde,
That teares are as true messengers of mans ungylty mynde.
Or els, a liker proofe that I am in the cryme,

You say these present yrons are, and the suspected time: