Pyramus and Thisbe: Or, Love's Masterpiece.  

Behold the downfall of two Lovers D●ar,  
And to their Memories, let fall a Tear,  
A sad mistake their Ruin did procure,  
When as they thought their FriendshiP should endure;  
Oh Cruel Fate! That Cut them off in Pr●me,  
And for Enjoyment, would afford no time.   
To the Tune of, Digbies Farewell.  
 

WHen all hearts did yield unto Cupid as King,  
And dying for Mistresses was no strange thing,  
When Maids without coyness did candidly deal,  
And men loved with constancy, faith, and true Zeal:  
There liv, d a fair pare of true Lovers in Greece  
Who have still been accounted as love's masterpiece.  
The Youth was called Pyramus, Thisbe the Maid:  
Their Love was immortal, and never decayed.   

But alas! their affections were crossed by sad Fate:  
To wit, by the feud and immortal debate.  
That had been fomented for many years' space,  
Between both their Families, & their whole Race.  
Which made the fair Cuple, though scorched with loves fire,  
Still smother their Flames & conceal their desire:  
They sighed still in private, and wept all alone;  
And dared not discover a Tear or a Groan.   

They sighed all the Night, & they gazed all the Day:  
Thus weeping and gazing, and sighing away  
Their langushing Lives, which they spent all in Tears,  
In sighs, & in groans, & in amorous fears.  
And when the whole world was composed in a sleep,  
Their grief kept them waking to sigh & to weep.  
Thus wand'ring all night, to the stars they complain,  
Of hardship, of fate, of their torments, and pain.   

But when they no longer those pains could endure  
Their Love did begin for to seek out some Cure.  
And so they appointed one Night for to meet  
In some neighbouring Valley, and there for to greet:  
And thence fly away to some far distant Cave,  
To love at their leisure: contented to have  
The joys of each other; and there let loves flame  
Burn quietly out without danger of blame.   
 
 

And so when that P●e●●s had run out his Race,  
Fair Thisbe came first into the meeting place.  
Impatient she stood and expected her Dear;  
She thought that each moment he stayed, was a year.  
Then under a Mulbery-tree down she lies,  
But scarce was lay down when she presently spies  
A grim and fierce Lion besmeaed all with Blood,  
Came wand'ring down from she neighbouring wood   

‛ Away run the Nymph to a Cave in a Fright.  
She fly's, & her Mantle is lost in the flight:  
Which the bloody Lion takes up in his Paws  
He tears it, & then with the Rags wipes his jaws.  
Soon after p●oor Pyramus came for to find.  
His long wished for Thisbe: but fate proved unkind.  
For when divine joys he did hope for to have  
He found but a winding sheet, death, & cold Grave.   

For when that he saw his love's Mantle all tore.  
Bedewed all with blood, & besmeared all with Gore:  
And then saw the Lion troth over the plain,  
He falsely concluded his Thisbe was slain.  
O who can express the vast torment and smart,  
The pangs and the anguish & grief of his heart?  
He made the Woods ring with his pitiful moans  
The Rocks & the Mountains dis Echo his Groans.   

Alas: (said Pyramus) could she then find  
No help from the Gods! are they so unkind?  
Or else have they stole her away from our sight,  
And so Rob d the Earth to make Heaven more bright?  
O tell me kind Sta●s! come and tell me but where  
My Th●sbe is gone, and I'll follow my dear.  
Two death-wounds already I bear in my breast.  
Once wounded by Love & by grief now oppress.   

I'll weep out my life, & I'll sigh out my Soul:  
I'll groan for my Love till my Carcase grows cold.  
Her Mantle I'll take for my sad Winding-sheet,  
In that mournful posture my Thisbe I'll meet.  
But a languishing death comes with too much delay:  
Great grief is impatient of so long a stay.  
I'll make greater haste to my Love: at which word  
The Youth stabbed himself to the hea●t with his Sword.   

By this time fair Thisbe was came from he Cave  
So pale that sher ris like a Ghost from its Grave,  
For when she her Pyramu● dying did see,  
She looked much more like to a Carcase than he.  
You'd have thought that the Nymph would before him have die d  
She fell on his body ●hen mournfully c●y'd  
O ●hy my dear Pyramus ●hy so unkind;  
Why ●un you away and leave Thisbe behind?   

At Thisbie● sweet Name they Youth lifts up his eyes:  
He looks, & he sighs, & then shuts them & dies:  
He gazed till he died then content with the sight.  
Away to Eliziu● his Soul took its flight.  
And 〈◊〉 did after it presently fly:  
She struggled, & strove, and made haste for to die.  
And such hast she made in ●●retaking her dear  
She ne ●e stayed ●o complain nor sca●ce drop a Tear.   

Her tender, and gentle heart soon burst ●ith grief!  
And Death stole away her fa●r Soul like a Thief.  
Then ●●w●●er cold body she lay by her Love.  
Both pitied by all the kind Gods of the G●ove.  
The amorous ●ur●les and Nigh●ingalls ●ung  
Their Obsequys: & n●a●●●●●s their Knell rung.  
And each loving beast of ●he wood left his Cave,  
And came so: to make the dead Lovers a Grave,    

London Printed for W. Thack●ray, T. Passenger, and W. Whitwood.