Pyramus and Thisbe: or, Love's master-piece. Behold the downfall of two lovers dear, and to their memorys, let fall a tear, a sad mistake their ruine did procure, when as they thought their friendship should endure; oh cruel fate! That cut them off in prime, and for enjoyment, would afford no time. To the tune of, Digby's farewel.

Pyramus and Thisbe: Or, Love's Master-piece.

Behold the downfall of two Lovers D••ar, And to their Memorys, let fall a Tear, A sad mistake their Ruine 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, Digby's Farewel.

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WHen all hearts did yeild unto Cupid as King, And dying for Mistresses was no strang thing, When Maids without coyness did candidly deal, And men lov'd with constancy, faith, and true Zeal: There liv,d a fair pare of true Lovers in Greece Who have still bin accounted as Lov's master-piece. The Youth was call'd Pyramus, Thisbe the Maid: Their Love was immortal, and never decay'd.

But alass! their affections were crost by sad Fate: To wit, by the fewd and immortal debate. That had bin fomented for many years space, Between both their Families, & their whole Race. Which made the fair Cuple, tho scorcht w^t loves fire, Still smother their Flames & conceal their desire: They sigh'd still in private, and wept all alone; And dar'd not discover a Tear or a Groan.

They sigh'd all the Night, & they gaz'd 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 composd in a sleep, Their grief kept them waking to sigh & to weep. Thus wandring all night, to the stars they complain, Of hardship, of fate, of their torments, and pain.

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

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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 staid, was a year. Then under a Mulbery-tree down she lies, But scarce was lay down when she presently spies A grim and fierce Lyon besmea'd all vvith Blood, Came wandring down from she neighbou••ing wood

'Away run the Nimph to a Cave in a Fright. She fly's, & her Mantle is lost in the flight: Which the bloody Lyon takes up in his Pawes He tears it, & then with the Raggs wipes his jaws. Soon after p••oor Pyramus came for to find. His long vvisht for Thisbe: but fate prov'd unkind. For vvhen divine joys he did hope for to have He found but a vvinding sheet, death, & cold Grave.

For vvhen that he saw his loves Mantle all tore. Bedew'd all vvith blood, & besmear'd all with Goar: And then saw the Lyon trot over the plain, He falsly concluded his Thisby vvas slain. O vvho can express the vast torment and smart, The pangs and the anguish & grief of his heart? He made the Woods ring vvith his pitiful moanes The Rocks & the Mountains dis Eccho his Groans.

Alass: (said Pyramus) could she then find No help from the Gods! are they so unkind? Or else have they stole her avvay 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 vvhere My Th••sbe is gon, and Ile follow my dear. Two death-vvounds already I bear in my breast. Once vvounded by Love & by grief novv oppress.

Ile vveep out my life, & Ile sigh out my Soul: Ile groan for my Love till my Carcass grows cold. Her Mantle Ile take for my sad Winding-sheet, In that mournful posture my Thisbe Ile meet. But a languishing death comes vvith too much delay: Great grief is impatient of so long a stay. Ile make greater hast to my Love: at vvhich vvord The Youth stab'd 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 look'd much more like to a Carcass than he. You'd have thought that the Nymph woud before him have dy d She fel on his body ••hen mournfully c••y'd O ••hy my dear Pyramus ••hy so unkind; Why ••un you avvay and leave Thisbe behind?

At Thisbie•• svveet Name they Youth lifts up his eyes: He looks, & he sighs, & then shuts them & dyes: He gaz'd till he dy'd then content vvith the sight. Away to Eliziu•• his Soul took its flight. And 〈◊〉〈◊〉 did after it presently flye: She struggled, & strove, and made hast for to dye. And such hast she made in ••••retaking her dear She ne ••e stay'd ••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 pitty'd by all the kind Gods of the G••ove. The amorous ••ur••les and Nigh••ingalls ••ung Their Obs••qu••es: & 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,