Notwithstanding all this excellence, Abstemia has the misfortune to
incur the unmerited jealousy of her husband. Instead, however, of
resenting his harsh treatment with clamorous upbraidings, and with the
stormy violence of high, windy virtue, by which the sparks of anger
are so often blown into a flame, she endures it with the meekness of
conscious, but patient, virtue; and makes the following beautiful
appeal to a friend who has witnessed her long suffering:
------Hast thou not seen me
Bear all his injuries, as the ocean suffers
The angry bark to plough through her bosom,
And yet is presently so smooth, the eye
Cannot perceive where the wide wound was made?
Lorenzo, being wrought on by false representations, at length
repudiates her. To the last, however, she maintains her patient
sweetness, and her love for him, in spite of his cruelty. She deplores
his error, even more than his unkindness; and laments the delusion
which has turned his very affection into a source of bitterness. There
is a moving pathos in her parting address to Lorenzo, after their
divorce:
------Farewell, Lorenzo,
Whom my soul doth love: if you e'er marry,
May you meet a good wife; so good, that you
May not suspect her, nor may she be worthy
Of your suspicion; and if you hear hereafter
That I am dead, inquire but my last words,
And you shall know that to the last I lov'd you.
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