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And yet still gapes, alas! I feare
Death it selfe will be buryed there.
Shee's sicke, and melts in her owne wo,
The female Sex should cheat her so.
(That she could not decieve the same,
In whom the first deceit found game.)
Either Physck conquers Death,
Or Physitians coine new breath;
Or Atropos hath lost her knife:
This was a hanging to the Life.
O! Wench reforme in thy new age,
Write Vertue in this second page:
The first shewes Characters of Vice,
O! live well once, who livest twice.
HEre lies-'t must not be so. Here Goes a Shee
That lost her life to lifes recovery.
Here Goes She, whose last Snuffe of vitall breath
Was blowne Out and In, by one blast of Death.
Whilst thus her Innocence Fate justifies,
Wee'l write on her Accuser, Here He Lies.
Iugglers we'have seene cut a Thread, whole: Thy Line
Of life was so: just such a Trick was Thine.
Hocus Pocus, fast and loose, dead and gone,
Here agen: Women have more tricks than one.
THou Sophister of Fate, that canst deny
A faire dispute by an Amphiboly;
Reade Hebrew-wise thy Neck-verse, make to be
In thine own doom an Infra-pollency:
Insertst no Negative, and yet canst state
An affirm'd sentence Illegitimate.
Sure Minos Jury was for these too Grand,
That did thy Doom re-eccho, did withstand
Thy Epilogue, and made it for to be
