(7)
THou shalt not Swing againe: come cleare thy brow,
Thou hast the Benefit o'th' Clergie now;
Nor is thy Neck-Verse writt in Blood, which might
Confound thy Thoughts, as it must needs thy Sight.
Thus when Apollo keeps th' Assises, then
Women are sav'd by Booke, as well as Men.
Strange Wench! what character may fit the, best,
That still canst live, though Thou art Hang'd and Prest?
To the Physitians.
TO raise a Pyramide unto your skill
Were to mistrust experience, and still
Think Death a Gyant, whose vast gripe could span
And squeez to nought both memory and man.
Yee are not mortall, nor need feare to dye:
To conquer Death is Immortality.
Yee have done that. Marble may serve to hide
It's owne dust now, or tell who should have dy'd:
There is no other use for't. And thou Death
Vaunt not henceforth 'tis with Thy leave we breath.
Th'art vanquish't quite, and this thy Mulct shall be,
To write Probatum to their victory.
Ad Puellam Redivivam.
QUæ modò spes tumuli fueras tristisq́ꝫ, feretri,
Posthuma jam vitæ nasceris ipsa tuæ.
Ecce stupet casum Mors admirata, rogatq́ꝫ
Decepit nostras quale Sophisma manus?
Nil potuit namq́ꝫ, illa magis te quando peremit:
Cùm tu non moreris nil minus illa potest.
In Puellam suspensam, & dein à Medicis Anatomiam
Cadaveris aggressuris, in vitam revocatam.
DUm Mors & Medici conspirant fœdere certo
