COme Flesh-Crow, tell me, what's the cause that you
Rigour to men, to Women Favour show?
Your Office you have not perform'd, 'tis plaine:
See, here's the Wench you hang'd, alive againe.
​Yet, for this once, I'le cleare you; it was not
Your slack rope sav'd her, nor your fast-loose knot.
Her fatall halter shee (to end the strife)
Untwisted spun into a thread of life.