had once a right to call my own.

God knows it was always you, and you only that I thought of. I looked
for no dowry, no alliance of marriage. And if the name of wife is holier
and more exalted, the name of friend always remained sweeter to me, or
if you would not be angry, a meaner title; since the more I gave up, the
less should I injure your present renown, and the more deserve
your love.

Nor had you yourself forgotten this in that letter which I recall. You
are ready enough to set forth some of the reasons which I used to you,
to persuade you not to fetter your freedom, but you pass over most of
the pleas I made to withhold you from our ill-fated wedlock. I call God
to witness that if Augustus, ruler of the world, should think me worthy
the honor of marriage, and settle the whole globe on me to rule forever,
it would seem dearer and prouder to me to be called your mistress than
his empress.

Not because a man is rich or powerful is he better: riches and power may
come from luck, constancy is from virtue. _I_ hold that woman base who
weds a rich man rather than a poor one, and takes a husband for her own
gain. Whoever marries with such a motive--why, she will follow his
prosperity rather than the man, and be willing to sell herself to a
richer suitor.

That happiness which others imagine, best beloved, I experienced. Other
women might think their husbands perfect, and be happy in the idea, but
I knew that you were so and the universe knew the same. What
philosopher, what king, could rival your fame? What village, city,
kingdom, was not on fire to see you? When you appeared in public, who