The lamentacion of Piramus, for the losse
of his Loue Thisbie.
T His is the day wherin my irksome life, And I of lyuely breath, the last shall spend: Nor death I dread, for fled is feare, care, strife, Daunger and all, wheron they did depend: (5) Thisbie is dead, and Pirame at his ende, For neuer shall reporte hereafter say: That Pyrame lyu’de, his Lady tane away. O soueraigne God, what straung outragious woe, Presents (alas) this corsiue to my hart: (10) Ah sauage beaste, how durst thy spight vndoe, Or seeke (woes mee) so perfect loue to part: O Thisbie mine, that was, and only art, My liues defence, and I the cause alone: Of thy decay, and mine eternall mone. (15) Come Lyon thou, whose rage here only shew, Aduaunce with speede, and doo mee eke deuoure: For ruthlesse fact, so shalt thou pitty shew, And mee (too) heere, within thy brest restore: Where wee shall rest, togeather euermore. (20) Ah, since thy corps, thou graues within thy wombe, Denye mee not sweet beast, the selfesame tombe. (Alas my ioy) thou parted art from mee, By far more cruell meane, then woonted fine: Or common law, of nature doth decree, (25) And that encreaseth, for woe, this greefe of mine: Of that beautie only, which was deuine, And soueraigne most, of all that liued here: No litle signe, may found be any where, If the dead corps (alas, did yet remayne: (30) O great cruelty, O rage of fortune spight, More greeuous far, then any tongue may fayne: To reue her life, and in my more despight, Mee to defraude of that my last delight: