Suspicious eyes, quick messengers of wo, Brought home sad newes ere _Thisbe_ farre could go: For lo, vpon the margent of the wood, They spy'd her loue, lye weltring in his bloud, Hauing her late lost mantle at his side, Stained with bloud, his hart bloud was not dry'd. VVisty she lookt, and as she lookt did cry, See, see, my hart, which I did iudge to dye: Poore hart (quoth she) and then she kist his brest, VVert thou inclosd in mine, there shouldst thou rest: I causd thee die poore heart, yet rue thy dying, And saw thy death, as I asleepe was lying.
Thou art my hart, more deare then is mine owne, And thee sad death in my false sleepe was showne: And then she pluckt away the murtherous blade, And curst the hands by whom it first was made, And yet she kist his hand that held the same, And double kist the wound from whence it came. Him selfe was author of his death she knew, For yet the wound was fresh, and bleeding new, And some bloud yet the ill-made wound did keepe, VVhich when she saw, she freshly gan to weepe, And wash the wound with fresh tears down distilling, And view'd the same (God wot) with eyes vnwilling.
She would haue spoke, but griefe stopt vp her breath, For me (quoth she) my Loue is done to death, And shall I liue, sighes stopt her hindmost word, When speechlesse vp she tooke the bloudy sword, And then she cast a looke vpon her Loue, Then to the blade her eye she did remoue. And sobbing cride, since loue hath murthred thee, He shall not chuse but likewise murther me: That men may say, and then she sigh'd againe, I him, he me, loue him and me hath slaine. Then with resolue, loue her resolue did further: With that same blade, her selfe, her selfe did murther.
Then with a sigh, she fell vpon the blade, And from the bleeding wound the sword had made, Her fearefull bloud ran trickling to the ground, And sought about, till _Pyramus_ it found: And hauing found him, circled in his corse, As who should say, Ilegard thee by my force. And when it found his bloud, as forth it came, Then would it stay, and touch, and kisse the same, As who should say, my mistresse loue to thee, Though dead in her, doth still remaine in me, And for a signe of mutuall loue in either, Their ill shed bloud congealed both together.