Excerpt: Pyramus and Thisbe • METAMETAMORPHOSES

I thought it would be worthwhile to post a bit of the 1567 poem with the same bit from the new one. Ovid’s tale of Pyramus and Thisbe underwent many metamorphoses and found its way into a couple of my plays, as featured in this post and that one. Most folks have at least heard of Romeo and Juliet, so it makes a good example.

The beginning of Book FourOvid called his chapters books. Each book would have been a set of handwritten scrolls kept in a leather case or bucket.. Three daughters of King Minyas –Arsippe, Leuconoe, and Alcithoe– are at home spinning and weaving because they refuse to join the Bacchic revels going on in the town. They don’t approve of Bacchus, a new god whose worship is hard to distinguish from a drunken orgy. The sisters decide to tell each other stories as they work, and Arsippe is elected to go first.

First, here’s one of the old pages (click the thumbnail to see a larger image in a new tab). Save your eyes, my transcription of the four-page excerpt follows. I replaced the medial ſs and fixed the u/v usage, which should help. NB: the heptameter will break onto second lines if your screen isn’t wide enough. Turn your mobile phone sideways.

1567

And thereupon they pray that first the eldest would begin.
She had such store and choyce of tales she wist not which to tell.
She doubted if she might declare the fortune that befell
To Dircetes of Babilon whome now with scaly hide
In altred shape the Philistine beleveth to abide
In watrie Pooles : or rather how hir daughter taking wings
In shape of Dove on toppes of towres in age now sadly sings :
Or how a certain water Nymph by witchcraft and by charmes
Converted into fishes dumbe, of yongmen many swarmes,
Untill that of the selfe same sauce hir selfe did tast at last :
Or how the tree that usde to beare fruite white in ages past,
Doth now beare fruite in maner blacke, by sprincling up of blood.
This tale (bicause it was not stale nor common) seemed good
To hir to tell : and thereupon she in this wise begun
Hir busie hand still drawing out the flaxen threede she spun.
—Within the towne (of whose huge walles so monstrous high & thicke
—The fame is given Semyramis for making them of bricke)
Dwelt hard together two yong folke in houses joynde so nere
That under all one roofe well nie both twaine conveyed were.
The name of him was Pyramus, and Thisbe calde was she.
So faire a man in all the East was none alive as he,
Nor nere a woman maide nor wife in beautie like to hir.
This neighbrod bred acquaintance first, this neyghbrod first did stirre
The secret sparkes, this neighbrod first an entrance in did showe,
For love to come to that to which it afterward did growe.
And if that right had taken place they had bene man and wife,
But still their Parents went about to let which (for their life)
They could not let. For both their heartes with equall flame did burne.
No man was privie to their thoughts. And for to serve their turne
In steade of talke they used signes. the closelier they supprest
The fire of love, the fiercer still it raged in their brest.
The wall that parted house from house had riven therein a crany
Which shronke at making of the wall. this fault not markt of any
Of many hundred yeares before (what doth not love espie.)
These lovers first of all found out, and made a way whereby
To talke togither secretly, and through the same did goe
Their loving whisprings verie light and safely to and fro.

Now as a toneside Pyramus and Thisbe on the tother
Stoode often drawing one of them the pleasant breath from other
O thou envious wall (they sayd) why letst thou lovers thus ?
What matter were it if that thou permitted both of us
In armes eche other to embrace ? Or if thou thinke that this
Were overmuch, yet mightest thou at least make roume to kisse.
And yet thou shalt not finde us churles : we think our selves in det
For this same piece of courtesie, in vouching safe to let
Our sayings to our friendly eares thus freely come and goe,
Thus having where they stoode in vaine complayned of their woe,
When night drew nere, they bade adew and eche gave kisses sweete
Unto the parget on their side, the which did never meete.
Next morning with hir cherefull light had driven the starres aside
And Phebus with his burning beames the dewie grasse had dride.
These lovers at their wonted place by foreappointment met.
Where after much complaint and mone they covenanted to get
Away from such as watched them, and in the Evening late
To steale out of their fathers house and eke the Citie gate.
And to theentent that in the fieldes they strayde not up and downe
They did agree at Ninus Tumb to meete without the towne,
And tarie underneath a tree that by the same did grow
Which was a faire high Mulberie with fruite as white as snow,
Hard by a coole and trickling spring. This bargaine pleasde them both
And so daylight (which to their thought away but slowly goth)
Did in the Ocean fall to rest, and night from thence doth rise.
Assoone as darkenesse once was come, straight Thisbe did devise
A shift to wind hir out of doores, that none that were within
Perceyved hir : And muffling hir with clothes about hir chin,
That no man might discerne hir face, to Ninus Tumb she came
Unto the tree, and sat hir downe there underneath the same.
Love made hir bold, But see the chaunce, there comes besmerde with blood,
About the chappes a Lionesse all foming from the wood
From slaughter lately made of Kine to staunch hir bloudie thurst
With water of the foresaid spring. Whome Thisbe spying furst
A farre by moonelight, thereupon with fearfull steppes gan flie,
And in a darke and yrksome cave did hide hirselfe thereby.
And as she fled away for hast she let hir mantle fall

The whych for feare she left behind not looking backe at all.
Now when the cruell Lionesse hir thurst had stanched well,
In going to the Wood she found the slender weede that fell
From Thisbe, which with bloudie teeth in pieces she did teare
The night was somewhat further spent ere Pyramus came there
Who seeing in the suttle sande the print of Lions paw,
Waxt pale for feare. But when also the bloudie cloke he saw
All rent and torne, one night (he sayd) shall lovers two confounde,
Of which long life deserved she of all that live on ground.
My soule deserves of this mischaunce the perill for to beare.
I wretch have bene the death of thee, which to this place of feare
Did cause thee in the night to come, and came not here before.
My wicked limmes and wretched guttes with cruell teeth therfore
Devour ye O ye Lions all that in this rocke doe dwell.
But Cowardes use to wish for death. The slender weede that fell
From Thisbe up he takes, and streight doth beare it to the tree,
Which was appointed erst the place of meeting for to bee.
And when he had bewept and kist the garment which he knew,
Receyve thou my bloud too (quoth he.) and therewithall he drew
His sworde, the which among his guttes he thrust, and by and by
Did draw it from the bleeding wound beginning for to die,
And cast himselfe upon his backe, the bloud did spin on hie
As when a Conduite pipe is crackt, the water bursting out
Doth shote it selfe a great way off and pierce the Ayre about.
The leaves that were upon the tree besprincled with his blood
Were died blacke. The roote also bestained as it stoode,
A deepe darke purple colour straight upon the Berries cast.
Anon scarce ridded of hir feare with which she was agast,
For doubt of disapointing him commes Thisbe forth in hast,
And for hir lover lookes about, rejoycing for to tell
How hardly she had scapt that night the daunger that befell.
And as she knew right well the place and facion of the tree
(As whych she saw so late before) : even so when she did see
The colour of the Berries turnde, she was uncertaine whither
It were the tree at which they both agreed to meete togither.
While in this doubtfull stounde she stoode, she cast her eye aside.
And there beweltred in his bloud hir lover she espide

Lie sprawling with his dying limmes : at which she started backe,
And looked pale as any Box, a shuddring through hir stracke,
Even like the Sea which sodenly with whissing noyse doth move,
When with a little blast of winde it is but toucht above.
But when approching nearer him she knew it was hir love.
She beate hir brest, she shricked out, she tare hir golden heares,
And taking him between hir armes did wash his wounds with teares,
She meynt hir weeping with his bloud, and kissing all his face
(Which now became as colde as yse) she cride in wofull case
Alas what chaunce my Pyramus hath parted thee and mee ?
Make aunswere O my Pyramus : It is thy Thisb, even shee
Whom thou doste love most heartely that speaketh unto thee.
Give eare and rayse thy heavie heade. He hearing Thisbes name,
Lift up his dying eyes and having seene her closed the same.
But when she knew hir mantle there and saw his scabberd lie
Without the swoorde : Unhappy man thy love hath made thee die :
Thy love (she said) hath made thee slea thy selfe. This hand of mine
Is strong inough to doe the like. My love no lesse than thine
Shall give me force to worke my wound. I will pursue the dead.
And wretched woman as I am, it shall of me be sed
That like as of thy death I was the only cause and blame,
So am I thy companion eke and partner in the same,
For death which only coulde alas a sunder part us twaine,
Shall never so dissever us but we will meete againe.
And you the Parentes of us both, most wretched folke alyve,
Let this request that I shall make in both our names bylive
Entreate you to permit that we whome chaste and stedfast love
And whome even death hath joyned in one, may as it doth behove
In one grave be together layd. And thou unhappie tree
Which shroudest now the corse of one, and shalt anon through mee
Shroude two, of this same slaughter holde the sicker signes for ay
Blacke be the colour of thy fruite and mourninglike alway,
Such as the murder of us twaine may evermore bewray.
This said, she tooke the sword yet warme with slaughter of hir love
And setting it beneath hir brest, did to hir heart it shove.
Hir prayer with the Gods and with their Parentes tooke effect.
For when the frute is throughly ripe, the Berrie is bespect

With coulour tending to a blacke. And that which after fire
Remained rested in one Tumbe as Thisbe did desire.

Now my new revisionThe copyright bit is not on the printed pages, it’s at the front of the book. I’m merely being thorough with what I put online. Fool me twice, etc..

2024

And thereupon they pray that first the eldest would begin.
She had such store and choice of tales she knew not which to tell.
She doubted if she might declare the fortune that befell
To Dercetis of Babylon whom now with scaly hide
In altered shape the Philistines believe now to abide
In standing pools. Or rather how her daughter taking wings
In shape of dove, on tops of towers, aged now sadly sings.
Or how a certain water nymph by witchcraft and by charms,
Converted into fishes dumb, of young men many swarms,
Until some of that very sauce herself did taste at last.
Or how the tree that used to bear white fruit in ages past
Does now bear fruit of colour black, from sprinkling up of blood.
This tale (because it was not stale or common) thought she good
For her to tell, and thereupon she in this way begun,
Her busy hand still drawing out the flaxen thread she spun:
—Within the town (of whose huge walls so monstrous high and thick
—The fame goes to Semiramis for making them of brick)
Dwelt close together two young folk in houses joined so near
That under all one roof well nigh they both resided there.
The name of him was Pyramus, and Thisbe called was she.
So fair a man in all the east was none alive as he.
Nor near a woman, maid nor wife, in beauty like to her.
The neighbourhood bred friendship first, and there it first did stir
The secret sparks. The neighbourhood an entrance in did show
For love to come to that to which it afterward did grow.
And if the right had taken place they had been man and wife,
But still their parents went about to stop what (for their life)
They could not stop. For both their hearts with equal flame did burn.
No man was privy to their thoughts. And so to serve their turn
Instead of talk they spoke with signs. The closer they suppressed
The fire of love, the fiercer still it raged within their breast.
The wall that parted house from house was riven with a cranny
Which shrunk when first the wall was made. This fault not marked by any
For many hundred years before (what does not love espy)
These lovers first of all found out, and made a way thereby
To talk together secretly. And through the crack did go
Their loving whisperings so light, with safety to and fro.

Now as on one side Pyramus and Thisbe on the other
Stood often drawing pleasant breath to share with one another,
They said: O jealous wall, why do you stop two lovers thus?
What matter would it be if you permitted both of us
Each other to embrace in arms? Or if you think that this
Is overmuch, yet might you leastways make some room to kiss.
And yet you will not find us churls. We think ourselves in debt
For this same piece of courtesy, in keeping safe to let
Our sayings to our friendly ears so freely come and go.
Thus having there in vain to stand complaining of their woe,
When night drew near they bade adieu, and each gave kisses sweet
Unto the plaster on their side, the which did never meet.
When morning with her cheerful light had sent the stars to hide,
And Phoebus with his burning beams the dewy grass had dried,
These lovers at their favoured place by foreappointment met.
Where after much complaint and moan they promised both to get
Away from those who guarded them, and in the evening late
To steal out of each father’s house, beyond the city gate.
And so that in the country fields they strayed not up and down
They both agreed at Ninus’s tomb to meet outside the town,
And wait there underneath a tree that by the same did grow,
Which was a fair high mulberry with fruit as white as snow
Close by a cool and trickling spring. This pact both does content
And so daylight (which to their thought away too slowly went)
Did in the ocean fall to rest, and night from there to rise.
As soon as darkness once was come, straight Thisbe did devise
A trick to get her out of doors, that none who were within
Perceived of her. And wrapping up herself about the chin
So no man might discern her face, to Ninus’s tomb she came,
And to the tree, and sat herself down underneath the same.
Love made her bold, but chance befell. There came besmeared with blood
About the jaws a lioness, all foaming from the wood
From slaughter late of cattle killed, to slake her bloody thirst
With water from the nearby spring. Which Thisbe spying first
Afar by moonlight, thereupon with fearful steps did fly,
And in a dark and irksome cave did hide herself thereby.
And as she fled away in haste she let her mantle fall,

The which for fear she left behind, not looking back at all.
Now when the cruel lioness her thirst had lessened well,
In going to the wood she found the slender cloth that fell
From Thisbe, which with bloody teeth in pieces she did tear.
The night was somewhat further spent when Pyramus came there.
Who seeing in the subtle sand the print of lion’s paw,
Went pale with fear. But when also the bloody cloak he saw
All ripped and torn, he said: One night two lovers did confound,
Of which long life she most deserved of all who live on ground.
My soul has earned by this mischance the peril for to bear.
I, wretch, have been the death of you, to which this place of fear
Did cause you in the night to come. I came not here before.
My wicked limbs and wretched guts, with cruel teeth therefore
Devour me, O you lions that within this rock do dwell.
But cowards like to wish for death. The mantle thin that fell
From Thisbe he picks up, and straight does bear it to the tree
Which was appointed as the place of meeting for to be.
And when he had bewept and kissed the garment that he knew,
He said: Receive you my blood too, and therewithal he drew
His sword, the which into his guts he thrust, and with a sigh
Did draw it from the bleeding wound, beginning so to die.
He laid himself upon his back. The blood was spinning high
As when a conduit is cracked the water bursting out
Does shoot itself a great way off, and pierce the air about.
The leaves that were upon the tree besprinkled with his blood
Were then dyed black. The root also now stained right where it stood,
A deep dark purple colour straight into the berries cast.
At length scarce leaving off her fear with which she was aghast,
For not to disappoint him now comes Thisbe forth at last,
And for her lover looks about, desiring for to tell
How narrow she escaped that night the danger that befell.
And as she knew right well the place and fashion of the tree
(As which she saw not long before), yet so when she did see
The colour of the berries turned, she was uncertain whether
It was the tree at which they both agreed to meet together.
While in this doubting frame of mind she cast her eyes aside,
And there beweltered in his blood her lover she espied

Now dying, all his limbs asprawl. She jumped back from the start,
And looked as pale as boxwood. Fully trembling in her heart,
Like as the sea does suddenly with hissing noise to move
When with a little blast of wind is barely touched above.
But when approaching nearer him she knew it was her love.
She beat her breast, she shrieked out loud, she tore her golden hair,
And with him in her arms she washed his wounds with every tear.
She mixed her weeping with his blood, and kissing all his face
(Which now became as cold as ice) she cried in woeful case:
Alas what chance, my Pyramus, has parted so us two?
Make answer O my Pyramus, it is your Thisb, she who
You love the most with all your heart, now speaking here to you.
Give ear and raise your heavy head. He hearing Thisbe’s name,
Looked up with dying eyes, and having seen her, closed the same.
But when she saw her mantle there and then his scabbard lie
Without its sword: Unhappy man, your love has made you die.
Your love for me has made you slay yourself. My hand assures
Me of its strength to do the like. My love not less than yours
Will give me force to work my wound. I will pursue the dead.
And wretched woman that I am, it will of me be said
That like as of your death I was the only cause and blame,
So am I your companion and your partner in the same.
For death which only has the power to separate us two,
Will never so dissever us when we do meet anew.
And you the parents of us both, most wretched folk alive,
Do this request that I shall make in both our names believe.
We ask you to permit that we in chaste and steadfast love
And whom now death has joined in one, may as it does behove
In one grave be together laid. And you, unhappy tree,
Which now does shroud the corpse of one, and soon shall so by me
Shroud two, of this same slaughter make the outward signs to stay.
Black be the colour of your fruit in mourninglike array,
Such as the murder of us two may evermore display.
This said, she took the sword still warm with slaughter of her love,
And setting it beneath her breast, did to her heart it shove.
Her prayer sent to the Gods and to the parents took effect.
For when the fruit is fully ripe, the berry is bespecked

With colour tending to the black. And that which after fire
Remained, entombed together was as Thisbe did desire.

To provide a bit of scale: Arsippe’s tale of the star-crossed lovers takes her 135 lines to tell. The whole translated poem has 14,464 lines, nearly 2500 more than Ovid’s Latin original.

Bonus content: another metamorphosis of the Pyramus and Thisbe story. Grampa Abe knows his Ovid. Sort of.

Image Credit

• The XV bookes of P. Ouidius Naso, entytuled Metamorphosis (etc) [colenda.library.upenn.edu]
· 1567 first edition, pg 44v (unnumbered)
· University of Pennsylvania Libraries
· Colenda Digital Repository
· previously at UPenn’s SCETI archive

VERO NIHIL VERIUS

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