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THE

LADY'S ANSWER

то THE

KNIGHT.

THAT you're a beast and turn'd to grass,
Is no strange news, nor ever was;
At least to me, who once, you know,
Did from the pound replevin you,

When both your fword and spurs were won
In combat, by an Amazon;

That fword that did, like fate, determine
Th' inevitable death of vermine,

And never felt its furious blows,

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But cut the throats of pigs and cows,

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By Trulla was, in single fight,

Difarm'd and wrested from its knight,

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Your heels degraded of your spurs,

And in the stocks close prisoners:

Where still they 'ad lain, in base restraint,
If I, in pity of your complaint,

Had not, on hon'rable conditions,
Releast 'em from the worst of prisons ;
And what return that favour met,
You cannot, tho' you wou'd, forget;

When being free, you strove t' evade,
The oaths you had in prison made:
Forswore yourself, and first deny'd it,
But after own'd, and justify'd it :

And when y' had falfely broke one vow,
Abfolv'd yourself, by breaking two.
For while you sneakingly fubmit,
And beg for pardon at our feet;
Discourag'd by your guilty fears,
To hope for

quarter, for your ears;

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And doubting 'twas in vain to sue,
You claim us boldly as your due,
Declare that treachery and force,
To deal with us, is th' only course;
We have no title nor pretence
To body, foul, or conscience,

But ought to fall to that man's fhare
That claims us for his proper ware:
These are the motives which, t' induce,
Or fright us into love, you use;
A pretty new way of gallanting,
Between foliciting and ranting;
Like sturdy beggars, that intreat
For charity at once, and threat.
But fince you undertake to prove
Your own propriety in love,
As if we were but lawful prize
In war, between two enemies,

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