Natures Embassie Or, The Wilde-mans Measvres: Danced naked by twelve Satyres, with sundry others continued in the next Section [by Richard Brathwait] |
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II. ELEGIE.
[LOVE TO THE LAST.]
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 | Natures Embassie |  |
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II. ELEGIE. [LOVE TO THE LAST.]
The Argument.
Louers consent finds fit place of recourse,
For Loues content chang'd into discontent,
King Ninus tombe their sconce or sorrows source,
To which a dreadfull Lyonesse is sent:
Which Thisbe spies and flies: her bloudie tyre,
Bereaues her Loue of life, and both expire.
For Loues content chang'd into discontent,
King Ninus tombe their sconce or sorrows source,
To which a dreadfull Lyonesse is sent:
Which Thisbe spies and flies: her bloudie tyre,
Bereaues her Loue of life, and both expire.
Well
then we will repaire vnto that place,
Where we shall haue fruition of our ioy,
By Ninus tombe, farre from our parents face,
Where mutuall Loue needs little to be coy:
Where met, we may enioy that long-sought pleasure,
Which Loue affoords, when Loue vnlocks her treasure.
Where we shall haue fruition of our ioy,
By Ninus tombe, farre from our parents face,
Where mutuall Loue needs little to be coy:
Where met, we may enioy that long-sought pleasure,
Which Loue affoords, when Loue vnlocks her treasure.
Thisbe was mute, in being mute she yeelded,
Who knowes not Maides, by silence giue consent?
So on her silence her assent was builded,
Since in his loue she plac'd her sole content;
Onward he goes most forward to obtaine,
That which she wish'd, but Parents did restraine.
Who knowes not Maides, by silence giue consent?
So on her silence her assent was builded,
Since in his loue she plac'd her sole content;
Onward he goes most forward to obtaine,
That which she wish'd, but Parents did restraine.
And coming nigh vnto king Ninus Tombe,
Erected neare a Christ all riueling,
There as she mus'd a Lion fierce did come
Forth of the groue, whence he his prey did bring.
Who all embrude with slaughter and with bloud,
Came for to quench his thirst at that same floud.
Erected neare a Christ all riueling,
There as she mus'd a Lion fierce did come
Forth of the groue, whence he his prey did bring.
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Came for to quench his thirst at that same floud.
Thisbe perceiuing this enraged beast,
Fled for her refuge to a hollow tree,
Yet she for hast, what she suspected least,
Let fall her Tire, and to her shelfe did flee;
Where in the shade while she affrighted stood,
The Lion tinct her virgine-tire with blood.
Fled for her refuge to a hollow tree,
Yet she for hast, what she suspected least,
Let fall her Tire, and to her shelfe did flee;
Where in the shade while she affrighted stood,
The Lion tinct her virgine-tire with blood.
And hauing now well drench'd his bloudie iawes,
Making returne vnto his shadie den,
Young Pyramus for to obserue loues lawes,
(Loues lawes must needs be kept) did thither tend,
And coming neare, her could he not espie,
But her vnhappie Tire di'd bloudily.
Making returne vnto his shadie den,
Young Pyramus for to obserue loues lawes,
(Loues lawes must needs be kept) did thither tend,
And coming neare, her could he not espie,
But her vnhappie Tire di'd bloudily.
Which he no sooner with his eyes beheld,
Then he exclaim'd against his destinie,
Since Thisbe was by his request compeld,
To be a pray to Lions cruelty:
And taking vp the bloud besmeared Tire,
Amintas-like his end he doth conspire.
Then he exclaim'd against his destinie,
Since Thisbe was by his request compeld,
To be a pray to Lions cruelty:
And taking vp the bloud besmeared Tire,
Amintas-like his end he doth conspire.
Yet fore his end in dismall sort he cried,
Fie on the fates, that did poore Thisbe kill,
Fie on those ruthlesse gods that haue decreed,
Wilde sauage beasts her crimson bloud to spill;
But why do I stand arguing with fate,
Lamenting ore her breathlesse corps too late?
Fie on the fates, that did poore Thisbe kill,
Fie on those ruthlesse gods that haue decreed,
Wilde sauage beasts her crimson bloud to spill;
But why do I stand arguing with fate,
Lamenting ore her breathlesse corps too late?
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For if thou lou'd her, shew thy loue in this
Lost, to regaine her presence by thy death;
Death, which hath left thee this poore Tire to kisse,
On which I'le breath and kisse, and kisse and breath:
Farewell my loue, if Piramus did loue thee,
He'le shew his loue, his loue shall be aboue thee.
Lost, to regaine her presence by thy death;
Death, which hath left thee this poore Tire to kisse,
On which I'le breath and kisse, and kisse and breath:
Farewell my loue, if Piramus did loue thee,
He'le shew his loue, his loue shall be aboue thee.
Strike home (fond man) and do not feare grim death,
But meete him in the mid-way to thy graue;
For Thisbes loue I gladly lose my breath,
And that is all that Thisbe now can haue:
And with this speech, deepe griefe cut off his word,
He slue himselfe with his owne dismall sword.
But meete him in the mid-way to thy graue;
For Thisbes loue I gladly lose my breath,
And that is all that Thisbe now can haue:
And with this speech, deepe griefe cut off his word,
He slue himselfe with his owne dismall sword.
Thisbe long trembling in her hollow Caue,
Came forth at last to meete her dearest loue.
How apt is loue the chastest to depraue,
Making a rauenous Uultur of a Doue;
Wherefore in haste she hies her to the spring,
Where she might heare a dolefull Syluane sing.
Came forth at last to meete her dearest loue.
How apt is loue the chastest to depraue,
Making a rauenous Uultur of a Doue;
Wherefore in haste she hies her to the spring,
Where she might heare a dolefull Syluane sing.
And to receiue the sorrow more at large,
Nigher she drew vnto that mournfull tune,
Where like a merchant in a splitted barge,
She stood amaz'd, and standing listned one,
Sorting his griefe vnto her deare friends griefe;
Whom she sought out, to yeeld her some reliefe.
Nigher she drew vnto that mournfull tune,
Where like a merchant in a splitted barge,
She stood amaz'd, and standing listned one,
Sorting his griefe vnto her deare friends griefe;
Whom she sought out, to yeeld her some reliefe.
Good Siluane say (thus spake she) hauing found him,
Did'st see a youth coast neare this darkesome way?
For much I feare, some sauage beast hath wound him,
If thou canst guide me to him, pray thee say:
Here is the Tombe where he appointed me,
To stay for him, yet him I cannot see.
Did'st see a youth coast neare this darkesome way?
For much I feare, some sauage beast hath wound him,
If thou canst guide me to him, pray thee say:
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To stay for him, yet him I cannot see.
Uirgin (quoth he) that youth you seeke is gone;
Whither (kind Siluane?) I will after him,
He shall not leaue me in this wood alone,
For trust me Siluane I haue frighted bin,
And by a dreadfull Lion so beset,
As I am hardly my owne woman yet.
Whither (kind Siluane?) I will after him,
He shall not leaue me in this wood alone,
For trust me Siluane I haue frighted bin,
And by a dreadfull Lion so beset,
As I am hardly my owne woman yet.
See Ladie, see; with that he vanished,
To waile the losse of Nais he had kept,
Who by a Centaure lately rauished,
Was quite conueyd away while th' Siluane slept.
She turnes her eye, yet scarce will trust her eye,
No, nor the place where she doth see him lye.
To waile the losse of Nais he had kept,
Who by a Centaure lately rauished,
Was quite conueyd away while th' Siluane slept.
She turnes her eye, yet scarce will trust her eye,
No, nor the place where she doth see him lye.
Dead! why it cannot be, thus she began,
Who could harme thee that nere did any harme,
No not in thought to any liuing man?
With that she felt his pulse if it were warme,
But breathlesse he, key-cold as any stone,
She lookes and weepes, and bathes him looking on.
Who could harme thee that nere did any harme,
No not in thought to any liuing man?
With that she felt his pulse if it were warme,
But breathlesse he, key-cold as any stone,
She lookes and weepes, and bathes him looking on.
Yet long it was ere she could shed a teare,
For greatest grieues are not by teares exprest,
Deepe-rooted sorrowes greatest burden beare,
Kept most in heart, but showne in eye the least.
For lesser grieues haue eyes to bring them forth,
But greatest still are strangled in their birth.
For greatest grieues are not by teares exprest,
Deepe-rooted sorrowes greatest burden beare,
Kept most in heart, but showne in eye the least.
For lesser grieues haue eyes to bring them forth,
But greatest still are strangled in their birth.
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Griefe therefore doth rebound, and with rebound
She shakes her Piramus and strokes his cheeke:
Loue was all eares, for he did heare her sound,
And mou'd his head from ground, but could not speake;
Yet did he hold her hand, as if her hand
Staid Deaths arrest, and could him countermand.
She shakes her Piramus and strokes his cheeke:
Loue was all eares, for he did heare her sound,
And mou'd his head from ground, but could not speake;
Yet did he hold her hand, as if her hand
Staid Deaths arrest, and could him countermand.
And as a man who ship-wrack'd on the Sea,
Not able to endure vnto the Port,
Takes hold on wracke, which He as constantly
Keepes in his hand, as he did labour for't:
From which, no danger whatsoere betide him,
Nor death it selfe can any way deuide him.
Not able to endure vnto the Port,
Takes hold on wracke, which He as constantly
Keepes in his hand, as he did labour for't:
From which, no danger whatsoere betide him,
Nor death it selfe can any way deuide him.
Euen so did Piramus keepe in his armes,
The choisest body of his chastest loue,
Whereby he thinkes himselfe so free from harmes,
As die he cannot till he thence remoue:
Yet though it's death to him, since Thisbe would,
He is contented to let go his hold.
The choisest body of his chastest loue,
Whereby he thinkes himselfe so free from harmes,
As die he cannot till he thence remoue:
Yet though it's death to him, since Thisbe would,
He is contented to let go his hold.
This seene, (sayes Thisbe) since thy loue is such,
That to deuide thy selfe from thine owne loue,
To thee's a second death or harder much,
And mou'd by me thy hold thou doest remoue;
Ere long will Thisbe shew her selfe to thee,
An equall Mirror of loues constancie.
That to deuide thy selfe from thine owne loue,
To thee's a second death or harder much,
And mou'd by me thy hold thou doest remoue;
Ere long will Thisbe shew her selfe to thee,
An equall Mirror of loues constancie.
Yet do I pray those friends who are conioyned
To vs in Bloud, to take of vs compassion,
That as our Loues, our corpes may be combined,
With funerall rites after our countrie fashion:
And when to ashes they our corps shall burne,
Let both our drearie ashes haue one vrne.
To vs in Bloud, to take of vs compassion,
That as our Loues, our corpes may be combined,
With funerall rites after our countrie fashion:
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Let both our drearie ashes haue one vrne.
Let both our graues (poore graues) be ioyn'd in one,
As both our hearts were linked in one twist:
And let our corps be couer'd with one stone,
So may our bones so neerely ioyn'd be blist;
For gods this priueledge to louers giue,
When others die by death, in death they liue.
As both our hearts were linked in one twist:
And let our corps be couer'd with one stone,
So may our bones so neerely ioyn'd be blist;
For gods this priueledge to louers giue,
When others die by death, in death they liue.
By this young Thisbes speech was finished,
Who was as wearie to enioy her life,
As a loose Matron of her husbands bed,
Or a young spend-thrift of his long-liu'd wife:
Euen so was Thisbe, whom death did afford,
Though not same hand to kill, yet selfe-same sword.
Who was as wearie to enioy her life,
As a loose Matron of her husbands bed,
Or a young spend-thrift of his long-liu'd wife:
Euen so was Thisbe, whom death did afford,
Though not same hand to kill, yet selfe-same sword.
But yet some Plant is still affectionate,
Unto a Louers death, whose constancie
Neuer doth alter from her wonted state,
But perseueres in stedfast certaintie:
For th' Mulberrie, seeing them Mourners lacke,
Milke-white before put on a sable blacke.
Unto a Louers death, whose constancie
Neuer doth alter from her wonted state,
But perseueres in stedfast certaintie:
For th' Mulberrie, seeing them Mourners lacke,
Milke-white before put on a sable blacke.
Morus thus altred in her former hue,
Changing her colour for the death of Loue,
Hath to this day her mourning-weed to shew;
Well might they moue vs then, when they did moue
The senslesse trees, who did so truly grieue,
As for their sake they would their colour leaue.
Changing her colour for the death of Loue,
Hath to this day her mourning-weed to shew;
Well might they moue vs then, when they did moue
The senslesse trees, who did so truly grieue,
As for their sake they would their colour leaue.
| Natures Embassie | |