I' the way that all the Capulets had been. Then first repentance seized the amorous man, And--shame on love--he reason'd and he ran; The thoughtful Romeo trembled for his purse, And the sad sounds, "for better and for worse." 250 Yet could the lover not so far withdraw, But he was haunted both by love and law: Now law dismay'd him as he view'd its fangs, Now pity seized him for his Juliet's pangs; Then thoughts of justice and some dread of jail, Where all would blame him and where none might bail; These drew him back, till Juliet's hut appear'd, Where love had drawn him when he should have fear'd. There sat the father in his wicker throne, Uttering his curses in tremendous tone; 260 With foulest names his daughter he reviled, And look'd a very Herod at the child: Nor was she patient, but with equal scorn, Bade him remember when his Joe was born: Then rose the mother, eager to begin Her plea for frailty, when the swain came in. To him she turn'd, and other theme began, Show'd him his boy, and bade him be a man-- "An honest man, who, when he breaks the laws, Will make a woman honest if there's cause." 270 With lengthened speech she proved what came to pass Was no reflection on a loving lass: "If she your love as wife and mother claim, What can it matter which was first the name? But 'tis most base, 'tis perjury and theft, When a lost girl is like a widow left; The rogue who ruins"--here the father found His spouse was treading on forbidden ground. "That's not the point," quoth he,--"I don't suppose My good friend Fletcher to be one of those; 280 What's done amiss he'll mend in proper time-- I hate to hear of villany and crime. 'Twas my misfortune, in the days of youth, To find two lasses pleading for my truth; The case was hard, I would with all my soul Have wedded both, but law is our control; So one I took, and when we gain'd a home, Her friend agreed--what could she more?--to come; And when she found that I'd a widow'd bed, Me she desired--what could I less?--to wed. 290 An easier case is yours: you've not the smart That two fond pleaders cause in one man's heart; You've not to wait from year to year distress'd, Before your conscience can be laid at rest; There smiles your bride, there sprawls your new-born son, --A ring, a licence, and the thing is done." "My loving James,"--the lass began her plea, "I'll make thy reason take a part with me. Had I been froward, skittish, or unkind, Or to thy person or thy passion blind; 300 Had I refused, when 'twas thy part to pray, Or put thee off with promise and delay; Thou might'st in justice and in conscience fly, Denying her who taught thee to deny: But, James, with me thou hadst an easier task,