throws himself at our feet, he triumphs over the rash outbreak of the
greatest anger; so much the more easily, Madam, if the offence comes
from an excess of love. However great your displeasure may have been, I
am not astonished to see it appeased; I know the power which, in spite
of your threats, will always pardon such crimes.

ELV. But know, Eliza, however great the power of my love may be, I have
blushed for the last time; if henceforth the Prince gives me fresh cause
for anger, he must no longer look for pardon. I swear, that in such a
case, I will never more foster tender feelings for him: for in short, a
mind with ever so little pride is greatly ashamed to go back from its
word, and often struggles gallantly against its own inclinations; it
becomes stubborn for honour's sake, and sacrifices everything to the
noble pride of keeping its word. Though I have pardoned him now, do not
consider this a precedent for the future. Whatever fortune has in store
for me, I cannot think of giving my hand to the Prince of Navarre, until
he has shown that he is completely cured of those gloomy fits which
unsettle his reason, and has convinced me, who am the greatest sufferer
by this disease, that he will never insult me again by a relapse.

EL. But how can the jealousy of a lover be an insult to us?

ELV. Is there one more deserving of our wrath? And since it is with the
utmost difficulty we can resolve to confess our love; since the strict
honour of our sex at all times strongly opposes such a confession, ought
a lover to doubt our avowal, and should he not be punished? Is he not
greatly to blame in disbelieving that which is never said but after a
severe struggle with one's self?

[Footnote: The words "since it is" until "one's self" have been used by