their deare burthen murtherously forlorne:
So _Pyramus_ sicke thoughted like a mother,
For _Thisbes_ losse, more deare then any other.

22

Or who hath seene a mournefull Doe lament
For her young Kid, in peecemeale torne and rent,
And by the poore remainders sit and mourne,
For loue of that which (out alas) is gone?
Let him behold sad _Pyramus_, and say,
Her losse, his loue, doth equall euery way.
For as a man that late hath lost his wits,
Breakes into fury and disaster fits,
So _Pyramus_ in griefe without compare,
Doth rend his flesh, and teare his golden haire,
Making the trees to tremble at his mourning,
And speechlesse beasts to sorrow with his groaning.

23

Alas (quoth he) and then he tore his flesh,
Gone is the sunne that did my Zone refresh,
Gone is the life, by which I wretch did liue,
Gone is my heauen, which hopefull blisse did giue,
To giue me heat, her selfe lyes nak't and cold,
To giue me life, to death her selfe she sold,
To giue me ioy, she bale alas did gaine,
My heat, life, ioy, procur'd her death, bale, paine:
Had I beene here, my loue had not beene dead,
At least the beasts had torne me in her stead,
Or would they yet teare me for company,
Their loue to me would slacke their tyranny.

24

And then he cast his eyes vpon the ground,
And here and there where bloudie grasse he found;
Sweet bloud (quoth he) and then he kist the bloud,
And yet that kisse God wot did little good,
Couldst thou being powr'd into my halfe slaine brest,
Reuiue againe, or purchase _Thisbes_ rest,
This hand should teare a passage through the same,
And yet that bloud from _Thisbe_ neuer came,
And then be gatherd vp the bloudie grasse,
And looking grieu'd, and grieuing cryde alas,
Where shall I hide this bloud of my deare louer,
That neither man nor beast may it discouer?

25

Then in the mantle he the grasse 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:
Where