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.

[illustration] the widow flees from the soldier, who pursues her.

SECT. VIII.

BUt whilst he told his Tale, the Woman slept, And Venus Vigils, not Diana's kept; She with a Bottle by her self had flunk, And twelve Go-downs on Reputation drunk.

When from the Board she rising with a Frown, As if her Rage could ne're be Conjur'd down, Rolling her Eyes, high-swoln her panting Breast, Her deep-conceiv'd Displeasure thus exprest.

Art thou that Fury Lust, sent hot from Hell, To tempt me in my solitary Cell? One of those Monsters which in Humane Shapes Commit dire Murthers, and unbridled Rapes? That such a Brazen Front hath, to presume To hint thus Folly in my Husbands Tomb: Of such an Impudence, who ever heard? This for my tender Pity! this Reward! I took him in: his Life, he says, I sav'd: Oh Heavens, how ill have I my self behav'd! Beyond Chaste Bounds, to give the smallest Hope, I at first sight with one in Arms durst cope.

This said, she stalks about: her Bosom stung, Love's Juncto's there, far differing from her Tongue; He following close, with melting Words persuades, And her with all Loves Elements invades,

Begging her Favour not to be so rash, To judge the Motion a Gallanting Flash; Who die would for her Honor on the Spot; He meant chast Love, Marriage, that Gordian Knot.

Whilst he his Cause thus pleads, out forth she breaks And seeming not to mind him, louder speaks.

Go to your Business, to your Gibbet-Task, And Counsel of your hang'd Companion ask, How to out-act him, and possess his Room: He in the Temple, you but in a Tomb! So both together sink from Church and Cell, To be gaz'd on as Miracles in Hell: O chast Diana, now, or ne're, be kind; Strike this thy bold Prophaner dead, or blind, Or stake him on some barren Mountain straight, For Rain, and Hail, and mouthing Winds to bait. Her Knife then drawing, said, Look to your Throat, 'Twere good to bleed such a libidinous Goat; Keep where you are; if once you stir a Foot To follow me, be sure, kind Sir, I'll do't.

This said, a Smile amidst her Frowns she blends, And turning to her Husbands Herse, descends.

A while he musing with himself advisd, Then boldly said, All Danger be despis'd, I'll do't: A single Woman, and one Dead! Rare Sport, and New! a Monumental Bed!

This said, he eager, streight reprints her Steps, And, like a Lion, after down he leaps.