THough, in the sad Condition wherein our disguis’d Lover, found his desolate Mistress, her sorrow and her fears, did somewhat cloud her Beauty, yet they could not hinder her looks from being so charming & majestick, as to create less pitty than respect. Wherefore with gestures, wherein this was as visible as he could make it, he told her, without approaching too near; Do not, Madam, I beseech you, add to your other troubles, the apprehension, that because I appear in the circumstances of a Ravisher, I come to commit a Rape: Theodora is so great an ornament to the Christian Religion, and her Purity is an ornament so dear to Theodora, that Heaven will not permit, either that Antioch should be rob’d of one, or she of the other. And therefore, that Providence which you have so generously trusted, has sent me to your rescue, which after the care I have taken to dispose things without doors, ‘twill not be difficult to compass, if you please to make use of the Military Habit I have brought hither, disguise and convey your self hence. Nor need you be solicitous, what will become of me, for I am under the same care of the same Providence, that now justifies your reliance on it, by providing for your escape: And I that found means to come in hither, may be succesful in attempting a Retreat, or if I should not succeed in it, I shall not miss the joy of paying my Duty, where I had the most desire and cause to do it; and shall leave the world with the satisfaction of having highly oblig’d it, by the preservation of the most accomplish’d Person in it. And Madam, (continues Didymus) that you may not doubt the willingness or the intentions wherewith this offer is made you, be pleas’d to know that it comes from the now fortunate Didymus, who justly thinks that in aspiring to your acceptance of it, he does less proffer a service, than beg a favour, that will not only be a full Recompence, but a high Obligation.
The name of Didymus, and Discourse so suitable to it, made by him that assum’d it, soon dissipated the dismal apprehensions his habit, and her circumstances had given her: She knew so well his Courage, his Vertue, and his Love, that nothing unlawful or mean, was to be fear’d; but the boldest things, if they were as noble as hazardous, might justly be expected, from him: So that this attempt did perhaps as much oblige her, as it surpris’d her. Wherefore, as soon as she had recompos’d her lately disorder’d thoughts, she told him, with looks serene enough to let him see how much she trusted him; This action, generous Didymus, is of a nature so extraordinary, that my ingratitude would be so too, if my sense of it were not. To own and rescue a persecuted and affronted Maid, and to do it with more hazard than you need run in the Roman Armies, to purchase Fame and Honours, in an action so disinteressed, and so unexampled, that I want words to celebrate it, as well as merit to deserve it, and power to requite it. But I admire so rare an effect of Vertue, (continues she) can consent to the destruction of its Author. No, Generous Didymus, ‘tis enough that the vertues· of Christians be treated as crimes by the Romans: They must not meet the like usage from Theodora; she must not purchase a life, that she values as little her self as others have cause to do, at so high a rate, as your partial Charity persuades you to set upon it. For even those that do now most pitty me, would repine at the preservation of my life, if it should cost that of a Heroe. Especially, if I should designedly be accessory to so great a Loss: Which accompanied with a publick Indignation, and my own Reproaches for my Ingratitude, would certainly make that Life a Burden to me, that at so dear a rate you would preserve as a Blessing. But—
Here Theodora was going to proceed, when her griev’d Lover, fearing that if she did so, she might make some Declaration unfavourable to his Wishes, thought fit to endeavour to prevent it, by saying to her with a profound respect. Ah, Madam, do not make your mistaking Compassion more cruel to me, than the severity of the Romans themselves, which we Christians justly Tax, can possibly be. For they will but in a few moments take away that Life, which you would at once protract and render Miserable. Do not, I beseech you, Madam, (continues he) think my services Meritorious, because they are paid you in this place, and in your Persecuted Condition. No, Madam, Theodora has Prerogatives enough, to make many less unworthy (though not more zealous) than I, ambitious to serve her, in what Circumstances soever Providence shall think fit to place her. Whatever the Romans, that worship Fortune and Victory as Goddesses, and find their Prosperity the powerfullest Argument to support and spread their Religion, may think of Sufferings embrac’d for Conscience sake: sure we Christians, that adore a Crucified Saviour, who, as he took upon him the form of a Servant, was put to Death between two Thieves, as a Slave and a Malefactor too; ought not to let any Persecutions, or Indignities, lessen our Veneration or Concern for those that chuse to Suffer for him, and imitate as well as own him, whatever it cost them. Nor, Madam, (pursues Didymus) needs your having been brought to this place, make you think your self at all dishonour’d, in the Opinions of those that can make just Estimates of things. They look on Sufferers for truth with His undeceiveable Eyes, that, by one of the Pen-men he inspir’d, having mention’d those Persons that for Religions sake were Imprison’d, Destitute, Tormented, Affronted forc’d in the Skins of Beasts, to wander like them in Desarts, and lodge in Dens; Honours them with this Character and Testimony, more glorious than all the Panegyricks of Orators, and Laurels of Conquerors, That the World was not worthy of them. And such Judges will think Venus an Infamous Courtezan, though the Romans adore her in their Temples; and will not think Theodora the less excellent Person, for having been condemn’d on the score of Vertue to a Scandalous place. Honour were a mean thing, and not worthy to have its loss much fear’d, or regretted; if we could forfeit it without having forsaken Vertue; and much more, if we could be depriv’d of it for having closely follow’d Her. Nothing can blemish true Reputation, that cannot be declin’d without manifest injury to Religion, which justifies our Acting whatever it imposes. The Angels themselves that were sent to Sodom, scrupl’d less to go even thither, then to disobey him that made it their duty to do so, nor were polluted by entering into that abominable place; and being attempted by the brutish Inhabiters of it, carried thence the Angelical Purity wherewith they came thither.
Didymus thought fit to say what has been repeated, that he might Console so chast a Virgin as Theodora, who had still enjoy’d, as well as merited, a spotless Reputation; by assuring her, that the barbarous Affront she had been expos’d to, for Constancy to her Religion, had not, among unbyass’d Judges, lessen’d the high Esteem her former Life had justly given them of her Vertue. But he would not discourse long of a Subject so Nice; that ‘twas difficult not only to insist on it, but so much as to mention it, without being uneasie to so tender a Modesty as hers he was speaking to. Upon which account, passing on to another Argument, he told her, These things I have mention’d, Madam, to let you see, how little I can pretend to merit by the Circumstances of the duty I pay you; and consequently, how little you need scruple to accept of my further Service, without which my past Endeavours will be useless to us both. And give me leave to own to you, Madam, that ‘twas not without much trouble, as well as surprize, that I heard the incomparable Theodora’s Merit so much injur’d, as to have the valuableness of my Life put into the Ballance with that of hers, nay, and made to Preponderate. Alas, Madam, there are Legions, that as well as I dare expose their Lives to the greatest hazards, and run greater dangers for some despicable pay, or a sew worthless Leaves, than I do to serve my Religion, and the fairest Professor of it. Every day affords thousands of such Men as I: Else the Roman Camps would not be so frequently Recruited, and those Numbers that fall in Breaches, or in Battels, would not have their Rooms so ambitiously supplied, by Men that see them do so. But such Persons as attain to be both the Ornaments of their Religion, and the Honour of their Sex, must be so Excellent, and are so Rare, that ‘tis not every Age that produces so much as one of them. Such Exemplary Ladies, do as well improve as enoble the times and places they live in: The respect and love Men have for them, makes their good Counsels very persuasive; the loveliness of their Persons is so diffus’d to their Actions, as, by making Men forward to take them for Examples, adds to to their Vertues, both a great Splendor, and a powerful Influence. That Theodora is not only one of that small Number, but eminent in it; nothing but her Presence, could keep it from being uneasie for me to evince. But, Madam, (continues he) though in such Circumstances as mine, your scrupulous Modesty may keep Men silent, yet it ought not to keep them from being Just. Your profound Humility may draw a Curtain, that may hide your Vertues from your Eyes; but in the Eyes of others, it cannot but encrease their Number, and exceedingly add to their Lustre. You need not therefore, Madam, (pursues he) scruple to receive the Service I aspire to do you, upon an injurious apprehension, that ‘tis above Reward; whilst indeed it pretends not to any at all, except the Satisfaction and Honour, that will be inseparable from the performance it self. Here Didymus paus’d for some moments; being sensible, how difficult a task he was entering upon: Since ‘twas, without prejudicing his Love, to own to his Mistress her self, that he did not serve her upon the score of That. But however; the sincerity of his affection, and the great desire he had to make his persuasions prevalent, hasten’d him to prevent her Answer, by thus prosecuting his Discourse: ‘Tis true, Madam, that Theodoras perfections did not miss in me, to have the operation that they are wont to have, upon those that enjoy the opportunities of considering them: and if she had been in a distress greater than that she is now in, though her Religion had not at all contributed to bring her into it, I should joyfully have expos’d my self, to a greater hazard than I now run, to rescue her from it. But, Madam, that is not our case; for that which now brings me hither, is none of those sentiments, that if I were possessor of a Crown, would bring me to lay that and my self at your feet, and think my self more happy in your acceptance of it, than in all the advantages and prerogatives that could belong to it. For, Madam, the resolution that led me hither, was not inspir’d by the fair, but by the devout and vertuous Theodora. If she had no Charms, but those that cannot be seen with bodily Eyes, or if her visible Beauty were but moderate, or none at all; her Exemplary Piety and Unshaken Constancy, shining in such extraordinary Expressions of them, as she has this day given, would make me think my self unworthy of Life, if I should stick at hazarding it to save so precious a one, as hers, and what I knew she would far more unwillingly loose; and thereby do some right to Divine Providence, which, by so unexampled a reliance on it, was thought in some sort engag’d to answer so uncommon and entire a Trust. After what she did for Christ, I did not think I could do enough for her, if I did less than I have endeavour’d to do. And therefore, Madam, (concludes he) I hope as well as beg, that you will no longer scruple to accept of that rescue, that Providence offers you, by an unmercenary and most wlling hand, but will to make use of this Military Garment (at which words Dydimus with great respect, pointed at His) and allow my endeavours, by procuring your safety, to secure my happiness.
To this moving Speech, the fair person, that ‘twas address’d to, return’d this calm Answer.
Though the handsom and obliging things you have been pleas’d to say, Generous Didymus, have made all the impressions on me that they ought to have; yet I must, with your pardon, freely tell you, that they naturally afford an inference, quite opposite to what you would conclude from them; since, by discovering more and more of your Gallantry & Friendship, they let me still further see, how much the World would loose, by being depriv’d of so much Vertue, and how unexcusable I, above all others, should be, if I should be willingly accessory to that loss. Your too too excessive Complements, I must not pretend to answer; since ‘twould be too great a reflection on Your Judgment, as well as Mine, to think you meant them for any thing more than what I have call’d them. But in answer to the serious part of your Discourse, I shall tell you, that, if I had proceeded in what I was going to say to you, when you interrupted me, I had, perhaps, prevented some of the things you have said, by freely acquainting you (as I now mean to do) with the state of my Case, and the intentions it suggested to me. When the inhumane President (continues Theodora) had condemn’d me, either to offer Sacrifice in an Idol Temple, or be led away to this infamous place; I was in such a perplexity and agony as can hardly be conceiv’d, especially by a Person that is not of my Sex; for Death it self was thought too mild an evil, to be one of those, among which I was condemn’d to make my choice. On the one side; the infamy of this detestable place was that which I could not think on, without the utmost horror and indignation: and not only my Sex and Breeding, but even the Dictates of more than one Vertue, (Modesty and Chastity) concurr’d to highten my abhorrence of it. But on the other side; I remembred, that I did not vow Obedience to God with any exceptions or reserves; that I was both a Disciple and a Worshipper of a Persecuted and Affronted Redeemer, for whom (though there were not an infinite Inequality between our Conditions) I could not suffer more, than he had already suffer’d for my sake; having not only endur’d the Cross, but despis’d the Shame, which the Jews insolent Malice, and the Romans Barbarous Custom, had annexed to it. And I thought that, perhaps, Providence had led me into this distress, to give me an Opportunity of shewing, that I could do more than die for Christ. But I must not now trouble you, with the various thoughts that distracted my Mind on this dismal occasion; on which all that I could say, to those that rudely press’d me to give a positive answer, was, that of the things they propos’d, I plainly saw that both were to be refus’d, and therefore I could make choice of neither. But since I would make no Election for my self, their Malice soon made one for me, of this detestable place. I was so confounded, and as it were stunn’d, at the first steps they forc’d me to take towards it, that I scarce knew what to think, or what I did; save that I remembered, that Idolatry was in the Sacred Books represented as a most odious, though Spiritual, Fornication; and that Apostacy would be my own Crime, whereas the Consequences of refusing it, could make me but the Object of anothers: And remembring my self to be a Daughter of him, that against Hope believed in Hope, to follow God’s Call, I did like him, Obey, not knowing whither I went: Yet having this Satisfaction, that I acted according to the Dictates of a well inform’d Conscience, so that, whatever the way might prove, I need not fear to be misled by closely following an Infallible Guide.
Here the Chast Virgins words were a little interrupted by the flowing Tears, and the inevitable Discomposure, that were produc’d by the sad remembrance of the distress’d Condition she was recounting. But having, as soon as she was able suppress’d, those visible effects of her vertuous Grief, she thus pursu’d her Discourse.
Revolving these and the like thoughts in my Mind, I arriv’d at this infamous place. And being for a while left alone in this Room, to try whether yet I could be brought to change my Mind; the nearer approach of what I was to endure, making it look more hideous to me, than, till then, I thought ‘twas possible for any thing to appear, made me presently think of flying for Refuge to the dark Sanctuary of Death; and by dispatching my self drown in my yet untainted Blood, both my own dismal fears, and my Persecuters brutish hopes. But then there came into my mind, what I had been often taught, and, whilst I was unconcern’d, judg’d rational to believe, of the unlawfulness of Killing ones self, upon any account whatsoever. I consider’d, that God, who made our Love unto our selves, the standard of the affection we owe our Neighbour, in forbidding us to destroy anothers Life, must be suppos’d much more to prohibit us that violence against our own. And if Fratricide be justly listed amongst the blackest Crimes, because of that Relation the slaughter’d persons have to those that Kill them; how Criminal upon that score must be the Murder of our selves, where the Relation is not nearer, only because ‘tis too near, to be properly any at all? The Sovereign Author and absolute Lord of our Lives, having thought fit to employ us here in his Service, we cannot, without violating our Duty to him, desert it until we have perform’d his Errand, which is, to glorifie him by our Lives; till loyalty to his Truth, or his Commands, convince us, that we may better glorifie him by our Deaths. Such Considerations as these would, I hope, have restrain’d me from ending my Life with a Crime; but the thoughts of it were quickly supprest, by my remembering that in this place, I was destitute of Instruments to act it with. Wherefore remembring that Daniel had been preserv’d, though not from the Lyons Den, yet in it; and his three Friends were not deliver’d from the Fiery Furnace, till they had been cast into it; and having learned by those Examples, that no Succours can come too late, that God designs for our Rescue, I betook my self to Prayer, as the most hopeful, as well as the most innocent course, I could take; and with an ardency, heighten’d with the extremity of my Distress, I was beseeching God, though with the loss of my Life, to preserve a Purity, that by his Grace had been hitherto kept unblemish’d, when your unexpected entrance brought me a return of those Prayers, I had yet scarce utter’d. Judge then, Generous Didymus (subjoyns Theodora) by the Condition I was in, how much I must think my self Oblig’d, by so brave and seasonable an attempt to deliver me out of it.
To serve so bright a Vertue, lodg’d in so noble a Shrine, I thought, Madam (says Didymus, Interrupting her) to be as much my Duty, as to have found an Opportunity to do it, is my Happiness: and if you please to permit me, as I now hope you will, the Honour and Satisfaction of compleating my Endeavours to deliver you; I shall much more value my self, upon the having paid you that Service (though it be more proportionate to my power, than to my desires) than if I had rescued a Roman General, or for successful attempts, been made one my self.
When Thanks are purchas’d by Merit, replys Theodora, to disclaim a right to them, does not forfeit it, but encrease it; nor need you make me any new Professions, since after the Testimonies you have given me already of your Vertues, and your Friendship, I should make my self unworthy of them, if I doubted of their Reality, or Greatness. Yes; Didymus, I believe what you declar’d, of the Disinterestedness of your proceedings in the Rescue of a Person of no greater Merit, than I can pretend to: Since the Circumstances of your Attempt, make it appear too generous to let me suspect, that the Aim of it was other than noble too. And indeed, after what you have done (continues She) it would ill become me to scruple to be further oblig’d by you, and therefore I shall venture to make you a Request, as soon as I shall have acquainted you with the Reasons, ‘tis grounded on.
Didymus being surpriz’d at this welcom Declaration, was going with Transports to assure Her, he could deny her nothing, nor obey her in any thing without Joy; when she prevented him, by thus continuing her Discourse. You know, my Generous Deliverer, that Virgins have so great and clear a Right to keep themselves such, against all outward Assaults; that Monarchs themselves (whose Force is not to be by force oppos’d, when it tends but to deprive us of our Lives) may be forcibly resisted, when they strive to offer Violence to our Chastity. Since then, an untainted Purity is a Jewel, that the Possessors are allowed to preserve and defend, even by uncommon ways, if others will not serve; and such as would in other Cases be unwarrantable: Though I do not, as I lately told you, think it lawful, as many do, to secure Virginity by Self-Murder; yet I cannot disapprove their Opinion, that allow a Virgin in case of Extremity, to emplore that Death from anothers hand, that she is forbidden to give her self, with her own; since in such a Calamitous Condition, Heaven, by debarring her all other ways of escaping from Defilement, seems to approve of this. And the Scripture informs us, that though the Prophet Jonas held it unlawful to drown himself, yet he persuaded those that Sail’d with him, (Jonah 1. 12) to cast him bound into the Sea, when neither they nor he expected he could out-live many Minutes (as indeed ‘twas not without a Miracle that he did.) Wherefore, pursues Theodora, if you will perfect what you have so Obligingly begun, you must lend me your Arm and Sword, to free me by a speedy Death, from mischiefs much greater than it. The Romans will easily believe, that my resistance and provocations transported you to a Revenge, at which the barbarous usage I have receiv’d at their hands, makes it unlikely they will be much offended: The grant of my request will not hinder you from being, what you are pleas’d to think a Title, Theodoras Deliverer. For, in the estimation of Equitable Judges, as well as in Hers, ‘twill suffice to give you a right to that Title, That you have deliver’d her from her geatest Calamity and Danger. Nor will the good office I desire, be inconsistent with my obtaining the Honour of Martyrdom: St. John the Baptist, because his bold Zeal for the Laws of Religion, gave the first rise to those Persecutions that terminated in his Death, is justly reckon’d among Martyrs, though he was privately beheaded in his Prison, at the solicitation of a Curtezan: and if one willingly suffers death for the Truth, or the Interest of Religion, there needs not a Scaffold or a Stake, and a publick Executioner, to make such a person a Martyr. And since the Persecutions that now make havock of the Church, are like to continue long; and since I am resolv’d, by Gods assistance, never to avoid them, by any either unlawful or unhandsom way: the Escape you would persuade me to, would but for a while delay those Sufferings I ought not to shun, and would make them much less acceptable, by my having endeavor’d to avoid them; especially by an action so mean, if not criminal too, as to consent to the loss of an excellent Person, that most generously expos’d himself for my safety. Deny me not therefore, concludes Theodora, with Tears in her Eyes, the last request I shall ever make you; but by sheathing your Sword here, (at which words she pointed with blushes, at her fair and innocent Breast) be pleas’d, by one quick and charitable Stroke, to perfect my deliverance, without making me Stain it with the Blood of my deliverer; free us both from eminent Danger, me of being Dishonour’d, and you of being Tormented; and by the same Act of Friendship, secure me the Coronet of Virginity, and procure me the Crown of Martyrdom.
Great was the Surprise, and greater was the Trouble, wherewith Didymus heard the conclusion of this Discourse: In answer to which, as soon as his astonishment would permit him to speak; Ah Madam, says he, what have you ever seen in the unfortunate Didymus, that could tempt you to make him so strange a proposition. That I, whose Errand hither was to venture my Life in your Service, should my self destroy the admirable Person I came to Rescue; and that Didymus should imbrue his guilty Hands in Theodora’s innocent Blood, to save one drop of which, He would gladly shed all his own. As your Piety deserves to be the Pattern of more than one Age, so I doubt not, but that in times very remote from ours, your Memory will shine as bright, as your Vertue and your Eyes do now; and then, how hideous a Monster must I appear to Posterity, that will look upon me as one, that could in a trice, pass from pretending to be your Deliverer, to be really your Murderer; and this for no other Reason, than that you were pleas’d to manifest a great concern for my Preservation? And pardon me, Madam, (continues Didymus) if I tell you, that your Generosity makes you forget some of your other Vertues, and even of the Dictates of the Religion you have hitherto adorn’d; Since your Commands, if obey’d, would engage me to commit a Crime, and make you your self, more than accessory to it. For, Madam, since you acknowledg Self-Murder to be unlawful, how can your Commands give me a right to take from you, a Life, that you have not power to dispose of? and what Excuse can I have, without so much as the pretence of acting under Authority, to destroy an Innocent Person? For, Madam, since I am to declare, why I presume to do the thing in the World I would least be put upon, to disobey Theodora; give me leave to tell you, that, should I execute what you require, the Action would not be excusable in either of us. For as Adam sinn’d in doing a forbidden thing, though she that prevail’d with him to do it, Was first in the Transgression; and the Jewish Prophet was torn in pieces by a Lion, though he did what he was seduc’d to, by the persuasions of a Prophet: So the Scripture clearly condemns David of Murder, because he kill’d Vria, though not with his own hand, yet with the Sword of the Children of Ammon: And the Scripture tells us too, that God plagu’d the Children of Israel in the Wilderness, because, as the Text expresses it, They made the Calf, that Aaron made. And indeed, by whatever Hand innocent Blood is shed, the Guilt of it will light upon the Person that procur’d it to be spilt. And to this I must add, That since Christians are in some cases, not only permitted, but Exhorted, if not Commanded, To lay down their Lives for one another: The high value and concern, I justly have for yours, makes me conclude, that this is certainly one of those Cases, and consequently, that I may lawfully offer you a Service, which you, perhaps, cannot lawfully refuse: Since Providence has left you no other Innocent way, than the acceptance of it, to escape your present danger. And the guilt of Self-Murder may, for ought I know, be Contracted, not only by a positive Act, but by an Inflexible refusal of the proffer’d means of Safety. Pardon me, I beseech you, Madam, pursues Didymus, if the great Concern I have for such a Person as Theodora, has Extorted from me, a greater plainness of Speech, than my profound Respect for Her would permit me, upon any other occasion. And because I perceive that, that which makes you most scruple to grant my humble Request, is, That your Superlative Generosity, and what your Humility persuades you to think Gratitude, make you solicitous for the preservation of a Life, hazarded for your sake; I must assure you, Madam, that your Inflexibleness will no way make provision for my safety. For, if I should be Condemn’d by your cruel Commands, to leave you expos’d to the barbarous and defiling rudeness of those Brutish Satyrs, that impatiently wait without, the regret and shame, of having mis’d the Honour of Theodora’s Rescue, will give me far greater Torments, than the Romans can, for having effected it. And I must add on this Occasion, Madam, (continues he, not without some change of Colour and Voice) that some Sentiments (which though I think not this a fit time or place to name, have been much Confirm’d and Heightned, by what I have this day had opportunity to observe) have so fast tied my Happiness to your Welfare, that the presence of my Soul is scarce more necessary to my Life, than your Safety is. Nor fancy, Madam, that the belief I own of the unlawfulness of Self-Murder, will secure my Life: for there are other ways, to procure Death to him that’s weary of Life, than his own Sword, or a draught of Poyson; since Passion alone, when rais’d to a competent degree, may do the office of either of those. And since Joy it self, though the most pleasing and friendly of the Passions, has by its Excess, prov’d destructive of Mens Lives; why may not Grief, and Shame, and Indignation, which are Passions more violent, and very unfriendly to Nature, be able to produce as fatal Effects? And to shew you, Madam, (continues Didymus) how much reason I have to think, that your Condition dispenses me from obeying the Dictates of your Generosity, let me.—But, before Didymus had annex’d his Reasons, a Noise made without, gave him a hot Allarm, and made him fear, the patience of some that waited without, would not last very much longer; and therefore addressing himself to Theodora, with a Countenance as Petitioning as his Words, and Eyes, in which his Courage could scarce repress the Tears: How long, Madam, says he, will you upon groundless Scruples, neglect an Opportunity, whose Omission will be Irreparable. And how can you justifie to God, the slighting the means His Providence presents you, of easily securing your Safety. Ah, Madam, then (concludes Didymus) by one quick and necessary Resolve, regain your Liberty, preserve your Honour, and secure your Life. But if nothing that has relation to your self alone will move you, be pleas’d to reward the Services I have Essay’d to do you, with the implor’d grant of your own Safety; and permit me for this once, rather to Serve you than Obey you. Nor need your generous Solicitude for me, hinder, or retard your Resolution: The World will not blame a Spotless Virgin, for doing what is necessary to keep Her self such; nor look upon it as a part of Ingratitude, to grant, to one that has done his best to serve Her, a Recompence, that he is so ambitious of, as to venture his Life to obtain it at her Hands. In short, Madam, for the time allows me not a long Discourse, if your Cruelty will not permit me to prevent your Death; Grief, and other Passions, will not allow me to survive it: And then, (supposing I should fail of making retreat) would it not be a much more happy Fate, that the constant Didymus should Die, for having sav’d the matchless Theodora, than for having lost Her?