And in their father’s blood they made them dance Upon the pavement⁠—God give them mischance. For which these woeful maidens, full of dread, Rather than they would lose their maidenhead, They privily be start 3362 into a well, And drowned themselves, as the bookës tell. They of Messenë let inquire and seek Of Lacedaemon fifty maidens eke, On which they wouldë do their lechery: But there was none of all that company That was not slain, and with a glad intent Chose rather for to die, than to assent To be oppressed 3363 of her maidenhead. Why should I then to dien be in dread? Lo, eke the tyrant Aristoclides, That lov’d a maiden hight Stimphalides, When that her father slain was on a night, Unto Diana’s temple went she right, And hent 3364