A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions Garnished and decked with diuers dayntie deuises, right delicate and delightfull, to recreate eche modest minde withall. First framed and fashioned in sundrie formes, by diuers worthy workemen of late dayes: and now, ioyned together and builded up: By T. P. [i.e. Thomas Procter] |
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 | A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions |  |
Myne
entyer soule, what prison dollours?
What hard distresse, and rare deuysed woes?
Of mee thine owne, thy captiue Pyramus,
Haue so sought, this life from boddy to vnlose:
Hard were to tell the tenth, that haue it strained,
With thought hereof, great wonders mee amaze:
How my poore lyfe, the halfe may haue sustayned,
O Thisbie mine owne, whom it only stayes.
And at whose will the fates doo lend mee breath,
Yet may I not the fatall stroke eschew:
Ne scape the dinte of fast pursuing death,
Onles your bounty, present mercy shew:
And this I trust, there may no ielous thought,
Haue any place within my Thisbies brest:
To cause her deeme, I am or may be caught.
With loue but hers wheron my life doth rest,
No bee assured, for yours I onely taste:
Yours was the first, and shall bee first and last,
What hard distresse, and rare deuysed woes?
Of mee thine owne, thy captiue Pyramus,
Haue so sought, this life from boddy to vnlose:
Hard were to tell the tenth, that haue it strained,
With thought hereof, great wonders mee amaze:
How my poore lyfe, the halfe may haue sustayned,
O Thisbie mine owne, whom it only stayes.
And at whose will the fates doo lend mee breath,
Yet may I not the fatall stroke eschew:
Ne scape the dinte of fast pursuing death,
Onles your bounty, present mercy shew:
And this I trust, there may no ielous thought,
Haue any place within my Thisbies brest:
To cause her deeme, I am or may be caught.
With loue but hers wheron my life doth rest,
No bee assured, for yours I onely taste:
Yours was the first, and shall bee first and last,
Why my most sweet (quoth Thisbie) then agayne:
I doubt not I, but know ye are all true,
Or how may cause of your vndoubted payne:
With her be hyd, who hourely as it grew,
None other felt, but euen what yee haue had:
Yet thinke not sweet, I taste your greefes alone,
Or make esteeme, as yee of mee haue made,
But ten times more, if that more wo begone,
Might euer bee a wretched maydens brest,
Where neuer yet, one iot of ioy might rest.
Well then my ioy, (quoth Pyrame) since yee please,
With so greater loue, to guerdon my good will:
Safe am I now, but great were mine ease,
If more at full, I might my fancy fill:
With nearer sight, of your most pleasant face,
Or if I might, your dayntie fingers straine:
Or as I woont, your body once embrace,
What say I ease? nay heauen then were my gayne.
Howbeit in vayne, in vayne (ay mee) I waste,
Both worde and winde, woes mee (alas) therfore:
For neuer shall my hart, O Thisbie taste,
So great an hap, nor neuer shall wee more:
In folded armes, as woont were to bewray,
Eche others state, ne neuer get the grace:
Of any ioy, vnlesse wee doo assay,
To finde some meane for other meeting place.
Beholde (alas) this wicked cruell wall,
Whose cursed scyte, denayeth vs perfect sight:
Much more the hap, of other ease at all.
What if I should by force, as well one might:
And yet deserues, it batter flat to ground,
And open so, an issue large to make:
Yet feare I sore, this sooner will redownde,
To our reproche, if it I vndertake:
As glad I would, then vs to helpe or ayde,
Sweet hart (quoth shee) wherwith shee stopt his tale:
This standes full yll: to purpose to be made,
And time it askes, too long for to preuayle:
Without suspect, to flat or batter euen,
Naythlesse, yee this, or what ye can deuise:
For our repayre, by thought that may be driuen,
Say but the meane, I will none otherwise.
Yee Thisbie mine, in sooth, and say you so
(Quoth Pyramus) well then I doo you know:
Where King Minus, lyes buried long ago,
Whose auncient Tombe aboue, doth ouergrow
A Mulbery, with braunches making shade,
Of pleasant show, the place right large about:
There if yee please, when slepe hath ouerlade,
And with his might, the Cittie seas'de throughout:
At the same Well, whose siluer streames then runne,
And softe as silke, conserue the tender greene:
With hue so fresh, as springtied spent and dunne,
No winters weede, hath power to bee seene:
Without suspect, or feare of foule report,
There goddesse mine, wee salfely may resort.
I doubt not I, but know ye are all true,
Or how may cause of your vndoubted payne:
With her be hyd, who hourely as it grew,
None other felt, but euen what yee haue had:
Yet thinke not sweet, I taste your greefes alone,
But ten times more, if that more wo begone,
Might euer bee a wretched maydens brest,
Where neuer yet, one iot of ioy might rest.
Well then my ioy, (quoth Pyrame) since yee please,
With so greater loue, to guerdon my good will:
Safe am I now, but great were mine ease,
If more at full, I might my fancy fill:
With nearer sight, of your most pleasant face,
Or if I might, your dayntie fingers straine:
Or as I woont, your body once embrace,
What say I ease? nay heauen then were my gayne.
Howbeit in vayne, in vayne (ay mee) I waste,
Both worde and winde, woes mee (alas) therfore:
For neuer shall my hart, O Thisbie taste,
So great an hap, nor neuer shall wee more:
In folded armes, as woont were to bewray,
Eche others state, ne neuer get the grace:
Of any ioy, vnlesse wee doo assay,
To finde some meane for other meeting place.
Beholde (alas) this wicked cruell wall,
Whose cursed scyte, denayeth vs perfect sight:
Much more the hap, of other ease at all.
What if I should by force, as well one might:
And yet deserues, it batter flat to ground,
And open so, an issue large to make:
Yet feare I sore, this sooner will redownde,
To our reproche, if it I vndertake:
As glad I would, then vs to helpe or ayde,
Sweet hart (quoth shee) wherwith shee stopt his tale:
This standes full yll: to purpose to be made,
And time it askes, too long for to preuayle:
Without suspect, to flat or batter euen,
Naythlesse, yee this, or what ye can deuise:
For our repayre, by thought that may be driuen,
Say but the meane, I will none otherwise.
(Quoth Pyramus) well then I doo you know:
Where King Minus, lyes buried long ago,
Whose auncient Tombe aboue, doth ouergrow
A Mulbery, with braunches making shade,
Of pleasant show, the place right large about:
There if yee please, when slepe hath ouerlade,
And with his might, the Cittie seas'de throughout:
At the same Well, whose siluer streames then runne,
And softe as silke, conserue the tender greene:
With hue so fresh, as springtied spent and dunne,
No winters weede, hath power to bee seene:
Without suspect, or feare of foule report,
There goddesse mine, wee salfely may resort.
| A gorgious Gallery, of gallant Inuentions | |