University of Virginia Library

Leaving that Lord, whose Brains twice bury'd were
In Sleep and Wine, This Chance does next appear.
Young Wench there was, of handsome Form, Gentile,
Varnesa call'd; and which might claim the Style
Of honest too, good Heart, ingenious Head;
Whom their chief Town, great Lacedemon bred;
Mother of Arcady, much lov'd the Nation.
Twelve months ago she left that City's Station,
To th' Lord prefer'd; one's Daughter fair beside
Th' Attendant prov'd, prime Spirit own'd beside:
Made now the Pris'ner's beds, Meat brought withall,
Being troubled, Griev'd for their disast'rous Thrall,
Thersander's Doom, Clermanthe's Ravishment,
Next Morn design'd no doubt o' th' sure Event;
For some Cross words to th' Matron too, debate
Threatned by th' Lord to be discharg'd of late:
Clermanthe, last, thought Noble Rank (by glance
Brave Gems beheld) her Fortune might advance
She fix'd on Hopeful way for their Release;
Further'd that Night through prime advantages.