If I kisse Anthea's brest, There I smell the Phenix nest: If her lip, the most sincere Altar of Incense, I smell there. Hands, and thighs, and legs, are all Richly Aromaticall. Goddesse Isis cann't transfer Musks and Ambers more from her: Nor can Juno sweeter be, When she lyes with Jove, then she. |