Circe monologue — Circe : $b A dramatic fantasy

[_Warmly_] Thy beauty and my love for thee, Philinna, Are of a piece; both do transcend the limit Of usual quality. For, without thee, I Should seem to hover in a stale vacant world; Whilst thou, arm’d with no wand or secret drug, Unconscious and unskill’d, canst oft divert The most admiring, ardent, rapt regards Away from the famed Circe—deem’d forsooth To win by her sheer woman’s charm not less Than by shrewd arts. It is perchance the reason Why thou art dear, because no studied guile Can in thy breast find lodgement. Oft we crave That in a friend which our own temper lacks; And the two mingle to a more perfect being Than either by itself.