“Pyramus set out later. When he saw the sure tracks of a beast in the deep dust, his face turned pale. He found the blood-stained cloth, exclaiming, ‘This one night will kill two lovers! 115 She ought to have grown old! My soul is guilty. I killed you, wretched girl! I ordered you to come to fearsome places in the night, then failed to get here first. Mangle my body and gnaw my wicked guts with your fierce bite, 120 whatever lions dwell beneath this crag. Only a coward merely hopes for death.’ He carried Thisbe’s veil to the tree’s shade and showered its familiar cloth with tears and kisses.
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