TO these pathetick Words he thought not fit to stay for an answer, but retiring to a corner of the room, he divested himself of his military Coat, and upon his knee, presented it to Theodora. She in the mean time, reflecting upon his Arguments, was by their force, convinc’d, that the motion she had made him, of killing her, was grounded upon a dangerous Error. And the noise that had been made, in the outward room, alarming her, at least as much as it had done him, let her see she had no further time left her to deliberate. And therefore, being prevail’d with, by supplications, made in so persuasive a way, that it appear’d a far less cruelty, even towards him, to accept, than finally to refuse, his offer: She first made her Blushes, and her silence intimate her consent, and then declar’d it more expresly, by raising him, and taking out of his hand what he presented to her. And to his joy (which his foresight that his success would be fatal to him, could not hinder from being very great) she receiv’d from him instruction how to put it on, and permitted him (though not without strange disorder in her mind and looks) to assist her: For as it was absolutely necessary to do it; so he did it with all imaginable care, to distress so nice a Modesty, as little as was possible: And therefore, as soon as ever he had done that, with all the respect and decency the place and occasion would by any means permit, all that could be done without him, he left her to do herself, withdrawing to a part of the room, whence he could not see her. Which Retreat he was induc’d to make, not only out of civility and respect, but perchance because the dangers that threat’n internal Chastity, have this peculiar fate, that usually those persons are most careful to shun them, that are the most resolv’d, and the best able, to surmount them.
As soon as the mutual Exchange of their habits had made it decent for them to discourse together, the disguis’d Virgin, with Cheeks cover’d with Blushes, and with looks so obliging, that they alone would have recompenc’d Didymus for any less service than that she now receiv’d, addressing herself to her Benefactor; If your Reasons, saies she, had not convinc’d me, that I could not without a crime free my self from my wretched Condition by death, and if yet death were not the only way, by which, if I decline your generous proffer, I can possibly shun, what I far more apprehend than death, dishonor; I should not leave you in a danger, wherein only your concern for Religion and for me, has engag’d you. But I doubt not the same Charity, that put you upon making me your generous proffer, and pressing me not to decline it, will make you pardon a fault, to which your own Reasons and Importunity have made you highly accessory; especially since I know you think a tenderness of Honor, and an abhorrence of all Defilement, to be things so allowable in a Virgin, as very much extenuate, if not justifie, what they require of her. And indeed I shall do you but right, when I thankfully acknowledge, that in this whole transaction about my Rescue, your carriage has been such, as would leave me no doubt, if ever I had been so unjust as to have any, of the purity & disinterestedness of your intentions, by which I am not a little confirm’d in the opinion I have alwaies had, That Vertue may inspire as Noble and as Hazardous Enterprises, as Passion can. I know that in this daies work, you aim’d at higher Retributions than could be expected from one in my Condition. But yet I think my self oblig’d to assure you, That your Heroick Acts of Vertue and Friendship, have not been exercis’d towards a Person insensible of them; but that your Merit, and your Favors, have produc’d all the esteem and other Sentiments, which they ought to produce, in a Person, that is not altogether incapable to discern and value them. And if the Pray’rs of a disconsolate Virgin, then sav’d by you, when all the rest of the World had abandon’d her, can have any interest at the Throne of Grace; they will obtain for you, Blessings as great as your generosity to me has been; and not less lasting, than my Sense of it will be; and you will, during a long protracted life, either be allow’d quietly to enjoy the Glory, your many meritorious Hazards of it have purchas’d, or else be enabled to find a happiness in your very Sufferings, by vertue of those peculiar Consolations that are reserv’d for a persecuted Condition; as anciently Manna was vouchsafed the Israelites, only whilst they were Exiles in the Wilderness. The quick success God has been pleas’d to grant my Pray’rs for my own deliverance, lets me not despair to find him propitious, to those I shall with no less ardency put up for yours: But if your Charity should expose you to further danger, I solemnly promise you, that you shall find, I have been instructed, as well as oblig’d, by your generosity, and would not have left you expos’d for my sake, that I might shun any danger that had threat’ned but my life.
And now the mournful Virgin, being to bid her accomplish’d Votary a farewel, which probably enough would prove the last; by a manifest change in her countenance, and the tone of her voice, and by the multitude of tears that fell from her fair Eyes, convinc’d him no less of the trouble she was in upon his account, than any verbal expressions could do it; though she said to him, in a most obliging manner, Farewel my Generous Deliverer; and may that God, who sees with what reluctancy I consent to your danger, free you happily from it, and richly recompense that noble Charity that led you into it. I hope we shall yet see one another again upon Earth. I am confident we shall meet joyfully in Heaven; by which I must confess my self very highly favour’d, not only in my Deliverance, but in the instrument of it; since God makes me not beholden for my Rescue to any common person, but is pleas’d so to order it, that I receive the greatest of earthly Benefits, from the most Generous of men.
Madam, replies the much troubled Didymus, your own unequal’d perfections, and the operation they have had on me, make me so much yours, that your wishing me happy, does more towards the making me so, than your humility will allow you to be aware of. You have too much Merit, Madam, to let the Services I have paid you, have a title to any; and what I have had the happiness to perform, is but what was every brave man in Antioch’s duty to endeavor. But if your Goodness will needs make you think, that my poor Services should have another (for they can scarce have a greater) recompence, than you have already given them, by suffering them to conttribute to your safety; and if you will vouchsafe to allow the memory of him that did them, a room in your thoughts, (which is the happiest Station it can aspire to upon earth:) I humbly beg your faithful servants Image may be look’d on without any troublesom degree of pity; since his condition will then need none, and the Idea would very much misrepresent the Original, if it should disquiet her, whom he never approach’d, but to serve Her. ‘Tis suitable, Madam, to this frame of mind, that for Theodoras sake I must now deny my self so much, as to hasten her departure, least some cross accident should prevent it: At which words, looking on her with a countenance that all his Courage could not keep from a discernable Change: Farewel, said he, incomparable Theodora, may you continue long the Ornament and the Pattern of your Sex: And since we see that some Fruits may be as well preserv’d in Honey, as others in Brine and Vinegar, may the height of your Vertue be kept up, but the objects of it so chang’d, that by a settled Prosperity you may henceforth haveoccasion to exercise your moderation and your gratitude, instead of your courage and your patience. Once more Farewel, concludes he, unequal’d Theodora; and may you live but with as much Contentment, as if I suffer for you, I shall die with Satisfaction.
Though these moving Expressions, and the accent wherewith they were deliver’d, did very sensibly touch a person so well natur’d and grateful as Theodora; yet she thought the fittest return she could then make to her Lover’s discourse, was, presently to follow the advice he was so earnest to have her speedily embrace. And therefore, bidding him farewel only by a look, wherein high degrees of sorrow and gratitude were plainly mingled; she immediately dispos’d herself to quit that dismal place: Which then afforded a noble instance, how little a great mind can be hindred from disclosing it self to be so, by the Stage ‘tis oblig’d to act upon. For whilst in divers of the stately Temples of Antioch, Whores, (such as Venus and Flora,) and Ravishers, and Adulterers, (such as Jupiter and Mars) were solemnly ador’d; in an infamous Scene, dedicated to publick Lust and Violence; the strictest Chastity was exercis’d, and Martyrdom it self was contended for.
Having once ventur’d into the outward room, That Providence, to which she had in such discouraging Circumstances trusted her Virgin Purity, would not leave the rescue of it, incompleat; but whilst the waiting Ruffians were eagerly contending, who should succeed the person they took by the Habit to be Didymus, (and whose face they did not wonder to see muffled, presently after so savage an action as they suppos’d him to have committed) brought her safely out of that infamous Place. Whence, by the least frequented Passages she knew, she was was quickly convey’d to the house of her dear Friend Irene, which happen’d to be nearer than her own.
There to avoid suspicion, some of her friends and relations were met together, to lament her Captivity, and join in Prayer to him that alone could deliver her, to be directed by God how they might (if it were possible) contribute to her rescue. But, though their Prayers were probably made with more zeal than hope, they were not a little alarm’d, when looking out to see who knock’d at the door, they saw, as they thought, a Soldier, who would not have been quickly let in, if Irene had not presum’d it to be Didymus, who was coming to offer his Service to his captivated Mistress. But ‘tis not easie to express the wonder and the joy, with which they soon discover’d that this was not Theodoras Lover, but herself; whose Beauty and her military Dress, would have made her, had the Roman Guards discover’d her, pass for their Pallas. Nor was such a Habit, though improper for a Virgin, unsuitable to a Great, as well as Chast Conqueror.
But though her presence never needed the endearment of a Surprise, yet the unexpectedness of it at that time and place, added to the Transports it produc’d; especially in Irene: Who after a thousand gratulations and caresses, at length begg’d in the name of the impatient Company, to know how the blessing they all receiv’d in her freedom, was procur’d. To which reasonable request she answer’d, by making a short but faithful Narrative, of what had occur’d since the time she was cited before the President, till she came to take Sanctuary among them; piously concluding, that, as what she had done not misbecoming a Christian, was altogether by the assistance of Divine Grace, so the succour she receiv’d to bring her out of danger was by the Conduct of Divine Providence, which in her delivery made use of the high vertue and generosity of Didymus. This Relation made the Company first return Thanks and Praises to the Divine Goodness, which were followed by the celebrations of the happy Instrument of it: every one, as it were by turns, endeavouring to vye, who should most commend so venturous & disinteressed a Lover. Nor perhaps did Theodora her self, inwardly dissent from that gratefull company. For, though her modesty and reservedness kept her from declaring her Sentiments, as others did theirs; yet perhaps that was because She thought, that having given a Candid account of his deportment, her Narrative had made her praises needless, the History it self being indeed a Panegyric.
After the Companies curiosity was somewhat satisfied by what Theodora had told them, and both Irene and she had made a request to a Gentleman that knew Dydimus well, to endeavour to bring them speedy notice of what had happened to him, or was like to befall him: The two excellent Ladies retir’d to the apartment of Irene. There the pious Theodora, having devoutly paid her solemn Thanks and Praise, for her almost miraculous Deliverance, to the Divine Author of it; she was accommodated by her Friend, with Cloaths befitting her Sex. Nor was it difficult for Irene, (though on so sudden an occasion) to furnish her with a Habit she liked for besides, that a Person so shap’d and fashioned as Theodora, could make almost any dress Graceful; she us’d to pity the mean vanity of those Ladies, that could be either Ambitious or Proud of what they must owe to a Taylor or a Dresser, and affected to be taken notice of, not so much for what they are, as for what they wear: And therefore, tho’ she did not scrupulously decline fashionable Clothes because they were so; yet all the Ornaments that pass’d the limits of the modestest Decency, she alwayes as little valu’d, as she needed them.