confinement? and did not they know that in a little while they would
pass away and have to resign me to some other lucky man?

No, give me neither these nor the off-hand gentry; my beau ideal is
the man who steers a middle course, as far from complete abstention as
from utter profusion. Consider, Zeus, by your own great name; suppose
a man were to take a fair young wife, and then absolutely decline all
jealous precautions, to the point of letting her wander where she
would by day or night, keeping company with any one who had a mind to
her--or put it a little stronger, and let him be procurer, janitor,
pander, and advertiser of her charms in his own person--well, what
sort of love is his? come, Zeus, you have a good deal of experience,
you know what love is.

On the other hand, let a man make a suitable match for the express
purpose of raising heirs, and then let him neither himself have
anything to do with her ripe, yet modest, beauty, nor allow any other
to set eyes on it, but shut her up in barren, fruitless virginity; let
him say all the while that he is in love with her, and let his pallid
hue, his wasting flesh and his sunken eyes confirm the statement;--is
he a madman, or is he not? he should be raising a family and enjoying
matrimony; but he lets this fair-faced lovely girl wither away; he
might as well be bringing up a perpetual priestess of Demeter. And now
you understand my feelings when one set of people kick me about or
waste me by the bucketful, and the others clap irons on me like a
runaway convict.

_Zeus_. However, indignation is superfluous; both sets have just what
they deserve--one as hungry and thirsty and dry-mouthed as Tantalus,
getting no further than gaping at the gold; and the other finding its