Had that curious Painter lived in her days, he might have avoided his painful search, when he collected from the choicest pieces the most choice Features, and by a due Disposition and Judicious Symmetry of those exquisite parts, made one whole and perfect Venus.  Nature seem’d here to have play’d the Plagiary, and to have molded into Substance the most refined Thoughts of inspired Poets.  Her Eyes diffus’d Rays comfortable as warmth, and piercing as the light; they would have worked a passage through the straightest Pores, and with a delicious heat, have play’d about the most obdurate frozen Heart, untill ’twere melted down to Love.  Such Majesty and Affability were in her Looks; so alluring, yet commanding was her Presence, that it minged awe with love; kindling a Flame which trembled to aspire.  She had danced much, which, together with her being close masked, gave her a tincture of Carnation more than ordinary.  But Aurelian (from whom I had every tittle of her Description) fancy’d he saw a little Nest of Cupids break from the Tresses of her Hair, and every one officiously betake himself to his task.  Some fann’d with their downy Wings, her glowing Cheeks; while others brush’d the balmy Dew from off her Face, leaving alone a heavenly Moisture blubbing on her Lips, on which they drank and revell’d for their pains; Nay, so particular were their allotments in her service, that Aurelian was very positive a young Cupid who was but just Pen-feather’d, employ’d his naked Quills to pick her Teeth.  And a thousand other things his transport represented to him, which none but Lovers who have experience of such Visions will believe.

As soon as he awaked and found his Speech come to him, he employ’d it to this effect: 

’’Tis enough that I have seen a Divinity—­Nothing but Mercy can inhabit these Perfections—­Their utmost rigour brings a Death preferable to any Life, but what they give—­Use me, Madam, as you please; for by your fair self, I cannot think a Bliss beyond what now I feel—­You wound with Pleasure, and if you Kill it must be with Transport—­Ah!  Yet methinks to live—­O Heaven! to have Life pronounced by those Bless’d Lips—­Did they not inspire where they command, it were an immediate Death of Joy.

Aurelian was growing a little too loud with his Admiration, had she not just then interrupted him, by clapping on her Masque, and telling him they should be observed, if he proceeded in his Extravagance; and withal, that his Passion was too suddain to be real, and too violent to be lasting.  He replied, Indeed it might not be very lasting, (with a submissive mournful Voice) but it would continue during his Life.  That it was suddain, he denied, for she had raised it by degrees from his first sight of her, by a continued discovery of Charms, in her Mien and Conversation, till she thought fit to set Fire to the Train she had laid, by the Lightning of her Face; and then he could not help it, if he were blown up.