1584.
(O wretched wight)
Now art thou in a woful case
for Thisbie bright:
Oh Gods aboue, my faithfull loue
shal neuer faile this need:
For this my breath by fatall death,
shal weaue Atropos threed.
¶Then from his sheathe he drew his blade,
and to his hart
He thrust the point, and life did vade,
with painfull smart:
Then Thisbie she from cabin came
with pleasure great,
And to the well apase she ran,
there for to treat:
And to discusse, to Pyramus
of al her former feares.
And when slaine she, found him truly,
she shed foorth bitter teares.
¶When sorrow great that she had made,
she took in hand
The bloudie knife, to end her life,
by fatall hand.
You Ladies all, peruse and see,
the faithfulnesse,
How these two Louers did agree,
to die in distresse:
You Muses vaile, and do not faile,
but still do you lament:
These louers twaine, who with such paine,
did die so well content.
Finis.
