Seven Minor Epics of the English Renaissance (1596-1624) Part 6

25

Then in the mantle he the gra.s.se vp tide, And laid it close vnto his naked side: Lie there (quoth he) deare to me as my hart, Of which thy mistresse had the greater part.

Tut she is dead, and then he vow'd and swore, He would not liue to murther loue no more: Which spoke, he drew his Rapier from his side, Of which the loue-slaine youth would then haue dy'd, But that he thought, that pennance too too small, To pacifie faire _Thisbes_ Ghost withall: Wherefore he rag'd, and ragingly exclaimed, That he true loue, and true loue him had maimed.

26

And then his Rapier vp againe he tooke, Then on the mantle cast a grieuous looke.

For me (quoth he) faire _Thisbe_ lost this bloud, She dead, my life would doe me little good, And well he thought he could endure the smart Of death, and yet he could not harme his heart: For why his hand being guiltlesse of the deed, Deny'd to make his harmelesse heart to bleed, And like a trembling executioner, Constrain'd to slay a guiltelesse prisoner, His hand retired still, further backe and further, As lothing to enact so vile a murther.

27

But _Pyramus_ like to a raging Iudge, Seeing his executioner flinch, and grudge To do the duty he enioyn'd him do, Reply'd, dispatch, or Ile cut thee off too: At which the trembling hand tooke vp the blade, But when the second profer it had made, It threw it downe, and boldly thus replyed, He was not cause that louely _Thisbe_ dyed, Nor would I slay thee, knew I she were dead: Then be the bloud vpon thy guiltie head.

Of these last words young _Pyramus_ dispences, And cald a synodie of all his seuer'd sences.

28

His conscience told him, he deserv'd not death, For he deprav'd not _Thisbe_ of her breath: But then suspicion thought, he causd her dye, But conscience swore, suspition told a lye.

At this suspicion prompted loue in th'eare, And bad him shew his verdict, and come neare, Which soone he did, and fate among the rest, As one whom _Pyramus_ esteemed best: For when proud Loue gaue in his faultie plea, He askt if he were guiltie, Loue said yea, And with the youth, fond youth by loue entangled, Agreed his guiltlesse body should be mangled.

29

Resolv'd to die, he sought the pointed blade, Which erst his hand had cast into the shade, And see, proud Chance, fell Murthers chiefest frend, Had pitcht the blade right vpwards on the end, Which being loth from murther to depart, Stood on the hilt, point-blanke against his hart: At which he smil'd, and checkt his fearefull hand, That stubbornely resisted his command.

And though (quoth he) thou scorn'd to doe my will, What lets me now my minde for to fulfill?

Both Fate and Fortune to my death are willing, And be thou witnesse of my minds fulfilling.

30

With that he cast himselfe vpon the sword, And with the fall his tender brest through gor'd: The angry bloud, for so his bloud was sheed, Gusht out, to finde the author of the deed, But when it none but _Pyramus_ had found, Key cold with feare it stood vpon the ground, And all the bloud, I meane that thus was spilt, Ran downe the blade, and circled in the hilt, And presently congeald about the same, And would haue cald it by some murtherous name, Could it haue spoke, nere sought it any further, But did arrest the Rapier of the murther.

31

And as the child that seeth his father slaine, Will runne (alas) although he runne in vaine, And hug about the shedder of his bloud, Although G.o.d wot, his hugging do small good, Euen so his bloud, the ofspring of his heart, Ran out amaine, to take his fathers part, And hung vpon the rapier and the hilt, As who should say, the sword his bloud had spilt: Nor would depart, but cleaue about the same, So deare it lov'd the place from whence it came: For sure it was poore _Pyramus_ was murthered, Nor by pursute, could his poore bloud be furthred.

32

When this was done, as thus the deed was done, Begun, alas, and ended too too soone, Faire _Thisbe_ strucken pale with cold despaire, Came forth the Caue into the wholsome aire: And as she came, the boughs would giue her way, Thinking her _Venus_ in her best array.

But she (alas) full of suspicious feare, Least that the late feard Lion should be there, Came quaking forth, and then start backe againe, Fearing the beast, and yet she fear'd in vaine.

She fear'd the Lion, Lions then were feeding, And in this feare, her nose gusht out a bleeding.

33

Her sudden bleeding argued some mischance, Which cast her doubtfull senses in a trance, But of the Lion troubled _Thisbe_ thought, And then of him, whom fearefully she sought: Yet forth she went, replete with iealous feare, Still fearing, of the Lion was her feare: And if a bird but flew from forth a bush, She straightwaies thought, she heard the Lion rush.

Her nose left bleeding, that amaz'd her more Then all the troublous feare she felt before: For sudden bleeding argues ill ensuing, But sudden leauing, is fell feares renewing.

34

By this she came into the open wood, Where _Pyramus_ had lost his dearest bloud, And round about she rolles her sun bright eyes For _Pyramus_, whom no where she espies; Then forth she tript, and nearly too she tript, And ouer hedges oft this virgin skipt.

Then did she crosse the fields, and new mown gra.s.se, To find the place whereas this arbour was: For it was seated in a pleasant shade, And by the shepheards first this bowre was made.

Faire _Thisbe_ made more haste into the bower, Because that now was iust the meeting hower.

35

But comming thither, as she soone was there, She found him not, which did augment her feare: But straight she thought (as true loue thinks the best) He had beene laid downe in the shade to rest, Or of set purpose hidden in the reeds, To make her seeke him in the sedgie weeds, For so of children they had done before, Which made her thoughts seeme true so much the more: But hauing sought whereas she thought he was, Shee could not finde her _Pyramus_ (alas) Wherefore she back return'd vnto the arbor, And there reposd her after all her labor.

36

To one that's weary drowsie sleepe will creepe, Weary was _Thisbe_, _Thisbe_ fell asleepe, And in her sleepe she dreamt she did lament, Thinking her heart from forth her brest was rent, By her owne censure d.a.m.n'd to cruell death, And in her sight bereft of vitall breath.

When she awak't, as long she had not slept, She wept amaine, yet knew not why she wept: For as before her heart was whole and sound, And no defect about her could be found, She dreamt she hurt, no hurt could she discouer, Wherefore she went to seeke her late lost louer.

37

Suspicious eyes, quick messengers of wo, Brought home sad newes ere _Thisbe_ farre could go: For lo, vpon the margent of the wood, They spy'd her loue, lye weltring in his bloud, Hauing her late lost mantle at his side, Stained with bloud, his hart bloud was not dry'd.

VVisty she lookt, and as she lookt did cry, See, see, my hart, which I did iudge to dye: Poore hart (quoth she) and then she kist his brest, VVert thou inclosd in mine, there shouldst thou rest: I causd thee die poore heart, yet rue thy dying, And saw thy death, as I asleepe was lying.

38

Thou art my hart, more deare then is mine owne, And thee sad death in my false sleepe was showne: And then she pluckt away the murtherous blade, And curst the hands by whom it first was made, And yet she kist his hand that held the same, And double kist the wound from whence it came.

Him selfe was author of his death she knew, For yet the wound was fresh, and bleeding new, And some bloud yet the ill-made wound did keepe, VVhich when she saw, she freshly gan to weepe, And wash the wound with fresh tears down distilling, And view'd the same (G.o.d wot) with eyes vnwilling.

39

She would haue spoke, but griefe stopt vp her breath, For me (quoth she) my Loue is done to death, And shall I liue, sighes stopt her hindmost word, When speechlesse vp she tooke the bloudy sword, And then she cast a looke vpon her Loue, Then to the blade her eye she did remoue.

And sobbing cride, since loue hath murthred thee, He shall not chuse but likewise murther me: That men may say, and then she sigh'd againe, I him, he me, loue him and me hath slaine.

Then with resolue, loue her resolue did further: With that same blade, her selfe, her selfe did murther.

40

Then with a sigh, she fell vpon the blade, And from the bleeding wound the sword had made, Her fearefull bloud ran trickling to the ground, And sought about, till _Pyramus_ it found: And hauing found him, circled in his corse, As who should say, Ilegard thee by my force.

And when it found his bloud, as forth it came, Then would it stay, and touch, and kisse the same, As who should say, my mistresse loue to thee, Though dead in her, doth still remaine in me, And for a signe of mutuall loue in either, Their ill shed bloud congealed both together.

_FINIS._