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 Whe're 'twere a just and equitable Cause,

Whether not consonant unto the Lawes.

Strange Sophister! that grant'st to Destiny

The Premises, Conclusion do'st deny;

Dar'st yeeld to Suffer Death, but not to Dye.

O sportive, Atropos? what, must we see

Some Hocus-tricks? the thread of life to be

Asunder cut, and yet entire remaine?

A Body-banish'd soule recall'd againe?

Now may the nine-liv'd Sex speake high, and say

That here they fought with Death, and won the day.

The fatall Tree, which first began the strife,

Sided with them, and prov'd a Tree of life.

Eath, spare your threats, we scorne now to obey;

If Women conquer thee, surely Men may.

How came this Champion on I cannot tell,

But I nere heard of one came off so well.

Ippolytus was dead, and (as the straine

Of Poets tel's) w