a wife with whom he had lived several years, and a woman
(so the voice of fame reported) the most valuable of her sex, of birth
equal to him, if not superior, and of fortune proportionable; but in
beauty, wit, and a thousand good qualities superior, not to most women,
but even to all her sex; and as to her virtue, the character which was
justly her due was that of, not only the best of princesses, but even
the best of women.

They lived in the utmost harmony, as with such a princess it was
impossible to be otherwise. But yet the princess was not insensible that
her lord had his foibles, that he did make some excursions, and
particularly that he had one favourite mistress, which sometimes
engrossed him more than she (the princess) could wish, or be easily
satisfied with. However, she was so good, so generous, so truly kind a
wife, that she never gave him any uneasiness on this account; except so
much as must arise from his sense of her bearing the affront of it with
such patience, and such a profound respect for him as was in itself
enough to have reformed him, and did sometimes shock his generous mind,
so as to keep him at home, as I may call it, a great while together. And
it was not long before I not only perceived it by his absence, but
really got a knowledge of the reason of it, and once or twice he even
acknowledged it to me.

It was a point that lay not in me to manage. I made a kind of motion
once or twice to him to leave me, and keep himself to her, as he ought
by the laws and rites of matrimony to do, and argued the generosity of
the princess to him, to persuade him; but I was a hypocrite, for had I
prevailed with him really to be honest, I had lost him, which I could
not bear the thoughts of; and he might easily see I was not in earnest.
One time in particular, when I took upon me to talk at this rate, I
found, when I argued so much for the virtue and honour, the birth, and,
above all, the generous usage he found in the person of the princess
with respect to his private amours, and how it should prevail upon him,
&c., I found it began to affect him, and he returned, "And do you
indeed," says he, "persuade me to leave you? Would you have me think
you sincere?" I looked up in his face, smiling. "Not for any other
favourite, my lord," says I; "that would break my heart; but for madam
the princess!" said I; and then I could say no more. Tears followed, and
I sat silent a while. "Well," said he, "if ever I do lea