Then instantly plucking the weapon from her breast, she presented
it to her husband, saying, "My Paetus, it is not painful!" Read this, ye
votaries of voluptuousness. Reflect upon the fine moral lesson of
conjugal virtue that is conveyed in this domestic tragedy, ye brutal
contemners of female chastity, and of every virtue that emits a ray of
glory around the social circle of matrimonial happiness! Take into your
serious consideration this direful but noble proof of constancy, ye
giddy and thoughtless worshippers at the shrine of beauty, and know,
that a virtuous disposition is the brightest ornament of the female sex.
There is another instance of constancy of mind, under oppression, in
Otway's tragedy of _Venice Preserved_, in a dialogue between Jaffier and
Belvidera, where the former questions her with great tenderness of
feeling in regard to her future line of conduct in the gloomy prospect
of his adverse fortune. She replies to him with great animation and
pathos:
"Oh, I will love thee, ev'n in madness love thee,
Tho' my distracted senses should forsake me!
Tho' the bare earth be all our resting place,
Its roots our food, some cliff our habitation,
I'll make this arm a pillow for thy head,
And as thou sighing ly'st, and swell'd with sorrow,
Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love
Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest.
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