those last words but the daunce of the Torche was at an end: whereby Iulietta, which wholly burnt in loue, straightly claspyng her Hand with hys, had no leysure to make other aunswer, but softly thus to say: “My deare frend, I know not what other assured wytnesse you desire of loue, but that I let you vnderstand that you be no more your own, than I am yours, beying ready and dysposed to obey you so farre as honour shal permyt, beseechying you for the present tyme to content your selfe wyth thys aunswere, vntyll some other season meeter to Commvnicate more secretly of our affaires.” Rhomeo seeing himselfe pressed to part of the Company, and for that hee knew not by what meanes he myght see hir agayne that was hys Life and Death, demaunded of one of his friends what shee was, who made aunswer that she was the Daughter of Capellet, the Lord of the house, and Mayster of that daye’s feast (who wroth beyonde measure that Fortune had sent him to so daungerous a place, thought it impossible to bring to end his enterprise begon.) Iulietta couetous on the other side, to know what yong Gentleman he was which had so curteously intertayned hir that Nyght, and of whome shee felt the new wound in hir heart, called an olde Gentlewoman of honor which had nursed hir and brought her vp, vnto whom she sayd leaning vpon hir shoulder: “Mother, what two young Gentlemen be they which first goe forth with the two Torches before them.” Vnto whome the old Gentlewoman told the name of the houses wherof they came. Then she asked hir againe, what young gentleman that was which holdeth the visarde in his hand, wyth the damaske cloke about him. “It is” (quod she) “Romeo Montesche, the sonne of youre Father’s capytall Enimye and deadly foe to all your kinne.” But the Mayden at the onely Name of Montesche was altogyther amazed, despayrynge for euer to attayne to husband hir great affectyoned fryend Rhomeo, for the auncyent hatreds betweene those two Families. Neuerthelesse she knewe so well how to dissemble hir grief and discontented Minde, as the olde Gentlewoman perceiued nothing, who then began to persuade hir to retire into hir Chamber: whom she obeyed, and being in bed, thinking to take hir wonted rest, a great tempest of diuers thoughtes began to enuiron and trouble hir Mynde, in sutch wyse as shee was not able to close hir Eyes, but turninge heere and there, fantasied diuers things in hir thought, sometimes purposed to cut of the whole attempte of that amorous practise, sometimes to continue the same. Thus was the poor pucell vexed with two contraries, the one comforted hir to pursue hir intent, the other proposed the immynente Perill wherevnto vndyscretly she headlong threwe hir self: and after she had wandred of long time in this amorous Laberinth, she knew not whereuppon to resolue, but wept incessantly, and accused hir selfe, saying: “Ah, Caitife and myserable Creature, from whence do rise these vnaccustomed Trauayles which I feele in Mynde,