Nasturcii sucum cum abrotano miscet perfusisque inguinibus meis viridis urticae fascem comprehendit, omniaque infra umbilicum coepit lenta mann caedere.  Upon which jumping from her, to avoid the sting, I made off.  The old woman in a great rage pursu’d me, and tho’ drunk with wine, and their more hot desires, took the right way:  and follow’d me through two or three villages, crying stop thief; but with my hands all bloody, in the hasty flight, I got off.

When I got home, to ease my wearied limbs, I went to bed, but the thoughts of my misfortunes would not let me sleep; when considering how unparallel’d a wretch I was, I cry’d out, “Did my ever cruel fortune want the afflictions of love to make me more miserable?  O unhappiness!  Fortune and love conspire my ruin.  Severer love spares me no way, or loving, or belov’d a wretch:  Chrysis adores me, and is ever giving me occasion to address:  She, that when she brought me to her mistress, despis’d me for my mean habit as one beneath her desires; that very Chrysis that so scorn’d my former fortune, pursues this even with the hazard of her own; and swore, when she first discover’d to me the violence of her love, that she wou’d be ever true to me.  But Circe’s in possession of my heart, I value none but her, and indeed who wears such charms?  Compar’d to her, what was Ariadne or Lyda? what Helen, or even Venus?  Paris himself the umpire of the wanton nymphs, if with these eyes he had seen her contending for the golden apple, wou’d have given both his Helen and the goddesses for her.  If I might be admitted to kiss her sweet lips again, or once more press her divinely rising breasts, perhaps my vigour wou’d revive, which now I believe lyes opprest by witchcraft.  I shou’d dispense with my reproaches, shou’d forget that I was beat; esteem my being turn’d out of doors, a sport; so I might be again happy in her favours.”

These thoughts and the image of the beautiful Circe so rais’d my mind, that I oft, as if my love was in my arms, with a great deal of fruitless ardour, hug’d the bed-cloaths, till out of patience with the lasting affliction I began to reproach my impotence; yet recovering my presence of mind, I flew for comfort to the misfortunes of ancient hero’s, and thus broke out: 

   “Not only me th’ avenging gods pursue,
    Oft they their anger on their hero’s throw;
    By Juno’s rage Alcides Heaven bore,
    And Pelia’s injur’d Juno knew before. 
    Leomedon Heaven’s dire resentments felt,
    And Telephus’s blood washt out his guilt. 
    We cannot from the wrathful godhead run
    Crafty Ulysses cou’d not Neptune shun. 
    Provokt Priapus o’re the land and sea,
    Has left his Hellespont to follow me.”

Full of anxious cares I spent the night:  and Gito, inform’d that I lay at home, enter’d my chamber by day-break, when having passionately complain’d of my loose life, he told me the family took much notice of my behaviour, that I was seldom in waiting, and that perhaps the company I kept wou’d be my ruin.