e of life,
would dare to pass any censure if a widow of inconsiderable beauty and
considerable age, being desirous of marriage, had by the offer of a
large dowry and easy conditions invited a young man, who, whether as
regards appearance, character or wealth, was no despicable match, to
become her husband? A beautiful maiden, even though she be poor, is
amply dowered. For she brings to her husband a fresh untainted spirit,
the charm of her beauty, the unblemished glory of her prime. The very
fact that she is a maiden is rightly and deservedly regarded by all
husbands as the strongest recommendation. For whatever else you
receive as your wife's dowry you can, when it pleases you and if you
desire to feel yourself under no further obligation, repay in full
just as you received it; you can count back the money, restore the
slaves, leave the house, abandon the estates. Virginity only, once it
has been given, can never be repaid; it is the one portion of the
dowry that remains irrevocably with the husband. A widow on the other
hand, if divorced, leaves you as she came. She brings you nothing that
she cannot ask back, she has been another's and is certainly far from
tractable to your wishes; she looks suspiciously on her new home,
while you regard her with suspicion because she has already been
parted from one husband: if it was by death she lost her husband, the
evil omen of her ill-starred union minimizes her attractions, while,
if she left him by divorce, she possesses one of two faults: either
she was so intolerable that she was divorced by her husband, or so
insolent as to divorce him. It is for reasons of this kind among
others that widows offer a larger dowry to attract suitors for their
hands. Pudentilla would have done the same had she not found a
philosopher indifferent to her dowry.

93. Consider. If I had desired her from motives of avarice, what could
have been more profitable to me in my attempt to make myself master in
her house than the dissemination of strife between mother and sons,
the alienation of her children from her affections, so that I might
have unfettered and supreme control over her loneliness? Such would
have been, would it not, the action of the brigand you pretend me to
be. But as a matter of fact I did all I could to promote, to restore
and foster quiet and harmony and family affection, and not only
abstained from sowing fresh feuds, but utterly extinguished those
already in existence. I urge