Our pleasant discourse continuing, I desir’d her to bring her lady:  she readily consented, and taking hold of her petticoats, tript it into a lawrel labyrinth, that border’d on the walk; ’twas not long e’re she usher’d her lady to me; a beauty excelling even the flattery of painters; words can’t express so perfect a creature; whatever I shou’d say of her wou’d fall short of what she was.  Her hair spread all o’re her shoulders, and seem’d in easie curls to wanton in the air.  Her forehead oval, and that naturally inclin’d the hair to its advantage.  The proportion of her eye-brows was most correct.  Her eyes eclypst the glory of the brightest star.  Her nose had an easie turn, and mouth was such Pragiteless believ’d Venus had.  Then her chin, her neck, her arms, and feet, gently girt with embroider’d sandals, to whose whiteness the Parian marble wou’d serve but as a foil.  ’Twas then I began to despise my old mistress Doris.  And thus broke out: 

   “Sure amorous Jove’s a holy tale above;
    With fancy’d arts that wait upon his love,
    When we are blest with such a charm as this,
    And he no rival of our happiness: 
    How well the bull wou’d now the god become: 
    Or his grey-hairs to be transform’d to down? 
    Here’s Danae’s self, a touch from her wou’d fire
    And make the god in liquid joys expire.”

She was pleas’d, and smil’d with such an air, that, she seem’d like the moon in all her glories breaking through a cloud, when addressing her self, her pretty fingers humouring the turn of her voice, “If a fine woman, and that but this year, has been acquaint’d with a man,” said she, “may deserve your love, let me commend a mistress to you.  I am sensible you have a comrade already, nor have I thought it below me to inquire it:  But why not a mistress too?  I enter the list on the same bottom with your comrade; nor do I desire to engross all the caresses; only think me deserving, and confer them as you please.”

“Let me beseech you, madam,” return’d I, “by all those cupids in your face and meen, not to scorn to admit a stranger into the number of your admirers.  You’l find him most religious, if you accept his devotions, and that you shou’d not suspect I believe the way to this heaven, unlike all others, may be trod gratis, I present you with my comrade.”

“What?” said she, “do you give him without whom you cou’d not live?  On whose lips your very being hangs?  Whom you so love, as I cou’d you.”  Her words were attended with such a grace at their delivery, and the sweet sound so, charm’d the yielding air, you wou’d have sworne some syren had been breathing melodies.  Thus rapt with every thing so amazing, and fancying a glory shin’d in every part, I ventur’d to enquire what name the goddess own’d?  “My maid, I perceive,” said she, “has not inform’d you, I am call’d Circe; I would not have you believe tho, I bear that name, that I derive my original from Apollo; nor that my mother, while she lay in the god’s imbraces, held the fiery steeds:  Yet I shall know enough of heaven, if fate will give you to my arms.  And who knows the dark decrees?  Therefore come, my dear, and crown my wishes.  Nor need you fear any malicious disturbance of our joys.  Your comrade is far enough from hence.”