Fri: Benedicite, what earlie tongue so soone saluteth me?
Yong sonne it argues a distempered head,
So soone to bid good morrow to my bed.
Care keepes his watch in euerie old mans eye,
And where care lodgeth, sleep can neuer lie: 30
But where vnbrused youth with vnstuft braines
Doth couch his limmes, there golden sleepe remaines:
Therefore thy earlines doth me assure,
Thou art vprows'd by some distemperature.
Or if not so, then here I hit it right 35
Our Romeo hath not bin a bed to night.
Ro: The last was true, the sweeter rest was mine.
Fr: God pardon sin, wert thou with Rosaline?
Ro: With Rosaline my Ghostly father no,
I haue forgot that name, and that names woe. 40
Fri: Thats my good sonne: but where hast thou bin then?
Ro: I tell thee ere thou aske it me againe,
I haue bin feasting with mine enemie:
Where on the sodaine one hath wounded mee
Thats by me wounded, both our remedies
With in thy help and holy phisicke lies,
I beare no hatred blessed man: for loe
My intercession likewise steades my foe.
Frier: Be plaine my sonne and homely in thy drift,
Ridling confession findes but ridling shrift. 50
Rom: Then plainely know my harts deare loue is set
On the faire daughter of rich Capulet:
As mine on hers, so hers likewise on mine,
And all combind, saue what thou must combine
By holy marriage: where, and when, and how, 55
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vowes,
Il'e tell thee as I passe: But this I pray,
That thou consent to marrie vs to day.
Fri: Holy S. Francis, what a change is here?
Is Rosaline whome thou didst loue so deare 60
So soone forsooke, lo yong mens loue then lies
Not truelie in their harts, but in their eyes.
Iesu Maria, what a deale of brine
Hath washt thy sallow cheekes for Rosaline?
How much salt water cast away in waste, 65
To season loue, that of loue doth not taste.
The sunne not yet thy sighes from heauen cleares,
Thy old grones ring yet in my ancient eares,
And loe vpon thy cheeke the staine doth sit,
Of an old teare that is not washt off yet. 70
If euer thou wert thus, and these woes thine,
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline,
And art thou changde, pronounce this sentence then
Women may fal, when ther's no strength in men.
Rom: Thou chidst me oft for louing Rosaline. 75