My boy has won: behold your granny’s ghost;
Your hapless father is in durance vile;
But now by thee his son shall be releas’d.
Art thou the image of my grand-mamma?
Said Hurlo to the dame, who answered, yes.
And these the spectres of thy virgin aunts,
At least maids deem’d:—Alas! not justly deem’d,
For ah confessors are most dangerous men,
So may Grizzelda from experience say:
An Alguazil was chaste Susannah’s love.