Æsopicks: or, A second collection of fables, paraphras'd in verse, adorn'd with sculpture, and illustrated with annotations. / By John Ogilby, esq; his Majesty's cosmographer, geographick printer, and master of revels in the kingdom of Ireland.

SECT. XII.

NO sooner entred, she without remorse Rends off the Sear-cloth from her Husband's Coarse, And laid the Body out both sweet and hard, Preserv'd with Spices, and perfuming Nard: Then thus to him in Desperation spake;

From me your Cure, this dreadful Cordial, take, Which Fortunes Forfeit, and your Life regains, Supply it with the Malefactor's Chains.

Then he reply'd, So fair a Corps as this, No where disfigur'd, not resembles his; The Change will be perspicuously too plain, And this your Condescension prove in vain: Sentenc'd by Law, his Right Hand off was lopt, His Nose slit, Lips cut off, his Ears close cropt.

Then she reply'd, What I present thus, take, What Maims you please, and Mutilations make: You that in Wars and Bloody Works have been, Mow'd down like standing Corn whole Squadrons seen▪ And no small part in such dire Business shar'd, To mangle one defunct will not be hard.

When thus he sigh'd, Though Soldiers rugged are, They with the Dead keep Truce, and never War: I who so oft in many a bloody Strife Have lopt off Legs and Arms, Life after Life,

[illustration] the widow mutilates her husband's corpse with a knife. The soldier and serving woman help.

And from the Battel come besmear'd all o're With Enemies, and my own recent Gore, For all the World, which less I prize than you, I could no harm to one resistless do.

When like a Bacchanal, she thus replies, Had, Argus-like, this Corps a hundred Eyes, As many Ears as Fame, as many Hands As once Briareus had at his Commands, Off they should all, my self them mangle too, And, though so late acquainted, all for you.

This said, she strips her Arms, her Breast unlac'd, Her self in posture for the Business cast; Her Knife, the Edge obtuse, she nimbly whets, Thus Arm'd, upon her Husband's Body sets: And first his Hand, which she so oft had kist, Without Compunction sever'd from the Wrist; His Ears cropt off, his Right Eye out she tears, Where once small Cupids danc'd in Crystal Spheres, His Nostrils slits, his Lips, where oft she sipt Balm mixt with Dew of Roses, off she whipt:

When thus she said, If this, Sir, will not serve, Say where you please, and I shall farther Carve.

Then he reply'd, No more, the Body spare, The Work is finish'd must conclude my Care.

All three, this said, ready assistance gave, To drag the Corps from Sanctuary in the Grave.