“The day before yesterday (it is Ottavia speaking), Crisogono came to see my mother in the afternoon. All was quiet and silent. He had scarcely begun to wanton a little with her, when he became very importunate. “Yesterday morning”, he said, “I learned a new kind of pleasure. One of our grand personages, who had certainly tasted it, says that there is nothing so disgusting and repulsive as those parts of his wife which stamp her as a woman,—and he has a very pretty wife, mind! In that sink every thing is foul, while in this (kissing my mother on the mouth), dwells the true Venus. He therefore abominates that illfavoured cavern, and adores that pure mouth, that charming head. He looks to nothing else, his member rises for nothing else. His wife is as spirited as she is beautiful, and even more obliging. She knows no other pleasure than her husband’s; what he thinks right she thinks proper, and abets all the caprices of her husband; so she lends him the service of her mouth. What would you do, Sempronia, if I asked you? If you were to refuse I should say that you have forgotten all your promises and your pledged faith. You know that Socrates said, the beautiful body of a pretty woman is nothing but a living treasure chamber of voluptuousness, the storehouse whereto men resort to find their pleasures, whereto they direct the burning floods of their lubricity. What matter whether you fulfil your duty through that pure canal (kissing her mouth), or through that other (touching below), which is infect?” He persuaded her to what she was willing to do without persuasion. “Oh!” she said, smiling, “what an air you want me to play, and upon what a flute, in our concert!” taking in her hand his member, which began to rise. She seized the point of his dart between her lips and turning her tongue around it, caused novel transports of delight to the member that slid into its new receptacle. But feeling that the fountains of the brine of Venus were on the point of bursting forth, she recoiled with horror. “You would not degrade me so far”, said my mother, “as to make me drink a man in a liquid form?” She had scarcely spoken, when an abundant shower fell upon her robe. He showed some anger, “How could you be so foolish,” he cried, “as to spoil such good work!” She replied: “Forgive me, the next time you will find me more obedient.” She kept her word, and actually drank men in a liquid state,—a spicy thing, for indeed the seed is spicy with salt!” (Dial. VII.) Mancia also proved complaisant in that way to Marino; Eleanor tells it in Aloysia Sigaea: