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This common plague is spread through all the town anon,

From side to side the town is filled with murmur and with moan,

For Tybalt's hasty death bewailéd was of some,

Both for his skill in feats of arms, and for, in time to come

He should, had this not chanced, been rich and of great power,

To help his friends, and serve the state; which hope within an hour

Was wasted quite, and he, thus yielding up his breath,

More than he holp the town in life, hath harmed it by his death.

And other some bewail, but ladies most of all,

The luckless lot by Fortune's guilt that is so late befall,

Without his fault, unto the seely Romeus;

For whilst that he from native land shall live exiléd thus,

From heavenly beauty's light and his well-shapéd parts,

The sight of which was wont, fair dames, to glad your youthful hearts,

Shall you be banished quite, and till he do return,

What hope have you to joy, what hope to cease to mourn?

This Romeus was born so much in heaven's grace,

Of Fortune and of Nature so beloved, that in his face,

Beside the heavenly beauty glist'ring aye so bright,

And seemly grace that wonted so to glad the seer's sight,

A certain charm was graved by Nature's secret art,

That virtue had to draw to it the love of many a heart.

So every one doth wish to bear a part of pain,

That he releaséd of exile might straight return again.

But how doth mourn among the mourners Juliet!

How doth she bathe her breast in tears ! What deep sighs doth she fet!

How doth she tear her hair! Her weed how doth she rent!

How fares the lover hearing of her lover's banishment!

How wails she Tybalt's death, whom she had loved so well!

Her hearty grief and piteous plaint, cunning I want to tell.

For delving deeply now in depth of deep despair,

With wretched sorrow's cruel sound she fills the empty air;

And to the lowest hell down falls her heavy cry,

And up unto the heaven's height her piteous plaint doth fly.

The waters and the woods of sighs and sobs resound,

And from the hard resounding rocks her sorrows do rebound.

Eke from her teary eyne down rainéd many a shower,

That in the garden where she walked might water herb and flower.

But when at length she saw herself outragéd so,

Unto her chamber straight she hied; there, overcharged with woe,

Upon her stately bed her painful parts she threw,

And in so wondrous wise began her sorrows to renew,

That sure no heart so hard, but it of flint had bin,

But would have rued the piteous plaint that she did languish in.

Then rapt out of herself, whilst she on every side

Did cast her restless eye, at length the window she espied,

Through which she had with joy seen Romeus many a time,

Which oft the vent'rous knight was wont for Juliet's sake to climb.

She cried, "O cursed window, accursed be every pane,

Through which, alas, too soon I raught the cause of life and bane;

If by thy mean I have some slight delight received,

Or else such fading pleasure as by Fortune straight was reaved,

Hast thou not made me pay a tribute rigorous

Of heapéd grief and lasting care, and sorrows dolorous,

That these my tender parts, which needful strength do lack

To bear so great unwieldy load upon so weak a back,

Oppressed with weight of cares and with these sorrows rife,

At length must open wide to death the gates of loathéd life;

That so my weary sprite may somewhere else unload

His deadly load, and free from thrall may seek elsewhere abode

For pleasant, quiet ease and for assuréd rest,

Which I as yet could never find but for my more unrest?

O Romeus, when first we both acquainted were,

When to thy painted promises I lent my list'ning ear,

Which to the brinks you filled with many a solemn oath,

And I them judged empty of guile, and fraughted full of troth,

I thought you rather would continue our good will,

And seek t'appease our fathers' strife, which daily groweth still.

I little weened you would have sought occasion how

By such an heinous act to break the peace and eke your vow;

Whereby your bright renown all whole y-clipséd is,

And I unhappy,