Aboute the welle gan she for to winde, And right anoon the wimpel gan she finde, And with her blody mouth hit al to-rente. 820 Whan this was doon, no lenger she ne stente, But to the wode her wey than hath she nome. And, at the laste, this Piramus is come, But al to longe, allas! at hoom was he. The mone shoon, men mighte wel y-see, 825 And in his weye, as that he com ful faste, (121) His eyen to the grounde adoun he caste, And in the sonde, as he beheld adoun, He seigh the steppes brode of a leoun, And in his herte he sodeinly agroos, 830 And pale he wex, therwith his heer aroos, And neer he com, and fond the wimpel torn. 'Allas!' quod he, 'the day that I was born! This o night wol us lovers bothe slee! How sholde I axen mercy of Tisbe 835 Whan I am he that have yow slain, allas! (131) My bidding hath yow slain, as in this cas. Allas! to bidde a woman goon by nighte In place ther as peril fallen mighte, And I so slow! allas, I ne hadde be 840 Here in this place a furlong-wey or ye! Now what leoun that be in this foreste, My body mote he renden, or what beste That wilde is, gnawen mote he now myn herte!' And with that worde he to the wimpel sterte, 845 And kiste hit ofte, and weep on hit ful sore, (141) And seide, 'wimpel, allas! ther nis no more But thou shalt fele as wel the blood of me As thou hast felt the bleding of Tisbe!' And with that worde he smoot him to the herte. 850 The blood out of the wounde as brode sterte As water, whan the conduit broken is. Now Tisbe, which that wiste nat of this, But sitting in her drede, she thoghte thus, 'If hit so falle that my Piramus 855 Be comen hider, and may me nat y-finde, (151) He may me holden fals and eek unkinde.' And out she comth, and after him gan espyen Bothe with her herte and with her yën, And thoghte, 'I wol him tellen of my drede 860 Bothe of the leonesse and al my dede.' And at the laste her love than hath she founde Beting with his heles on the grounde, Al blody, and therwith-al a-bak she sterte, And lyke the wawes quappe gan her herte, 865 And pale as box she wex, and in a throwe (161) Avysed her, and gan him wel to knowe, That hit was Piramus, her herte dere. Who coude wryte whiche a deedly chere Hath Tisbe now, and how her heer she rente, 870 And how she gan her-selve to turmente, And how she lyth and swowneth on the grounde, And how she weep of teres ful his wounde, How medeleth she his blood with her compleynte,