I never reproached him.  My brother, exasperated at so many indignities, commanded me to quit the house of my husband at Rome and come into his.  I refused to obey him.  I remained in Antony’s house; I persisted to take care of his children by Fulvia, the same tender care as of my own.  I gave my protection to all his friends at Rome.  I implored my brother not to make my jealousy or my wrongs the cause of a civil war.  But the injuries done to Rome by Antony’s conduct could not possibly be forgiven.  When he found he should draw the Roman arms on himself, he sent orders to me to leave his house.  I did so, but carried with me all his children by Fulvia, except Antyllus, the eldest, who was then with him in Egypt.  After his death and Cleopatra’s, I took her children by him, and bred them up with my own.

Arria.—­Is it possible, madam? the children of Cleopatra?

Octavia.—­Yes, the children of my rival.  I married her daughter to Juba, King of Mauritania, the most accomplished and the handsomest prince in the world.

Arria.—­Tell me, Octavia, did not your pride and resentment entirely cure you of your passion for Antony, as soon as you saw him go back to Cleopatra?  And was not your whole conduct afterwards the effect of cool reason, undisturbed by the agitations of jealous and tortured love?

Octavia.—­You probe my heart very deeply.  That I had some help from resentment and the natural pride of my sex, I will not deny.  But I was not become indifferent to my husband.  I loved the Antony who had been my lover, more than I was angry with the Antony who forsook me and loved another woman.  Had he left Cleopatra and returned to me again with all his former affection, I really believe I should have loved him as well as before.

Arria.—­If the merit of a wife is to be measured by her sufferings, your heart was unquestionably the most perfect model of conjugal virtue.  The wound I gave mine was but a scratch in comparison to many you felt.  Yet I don’t know whether it would be any benefit to the world that there should be in it many Octavias.  Too good subjects are apt to make bad kings.

Portia.—­True, Arria; the wives of Brutus and Cecinna Paetus may be allowed to have spirits a little rebellious.  Octavia was educated in the Court of her brother.  Subjection and patience were much better taught there than in our houses, where the Roman liberty made its last abode.  And though I will not dispute the judgment of Minos, I can’t help thinking that the affection of a wife to her husband is more or less respectable in proportion to the character of that husband.  If I could have had for Antony the same friendship as I had for Brutus, I should have despised myself.

Octavia.—­My fondness for Antony was ill-placed; but my perseverance in the performance of all the duties of a wife, notwithstanding his ill-usage, a perseverance made more difficult by the very excess of my love, appeared to Minos the highest and most meritorious effort of female resolution against the seductions of the most dangerous enemy to our virtue, offended pride.