Roxana to Usbek, at Paris.
IT is true, I have imposed upon thee, I have suborned thy eunuchs; I have made sport of thy jealousy; and I have found means to make thy frightful seraglio an abode of bliss and delight. I am upon the point of death; poison will soon put an end to my life; for why should I live, when the only man who rendered life desirable is no more! I die: but my shade will be well attended. I have just sent before me the sacrilegious guards, who have shed the most precious blood in the world. How couldst thou think me weak enough to consider myself as born only to adore thy caprice? that whilst you allowed yourself the full indulgence of all your desires, you had a right to thwart mine in every respect? No, though I have lived in a state of servitude, I contrived means to be always free: I reformed your laws by the laws of nature; and my mind has always continued in a state of independency. Thou oughtest even to thank me for the sacrifice which I have made thee; for having descended so low as to counterfeit a passion for you; for having basely concealed within my breast, what I should have published to thee; in fine, for having profaned virtue, by suffering my bearing with your humours to be called by that name. You were surprized at never observing in me the transports of love: had you known me well, you would have discovered in me all the violence of hatred. But you have long enjoyed the happy deception of thinking yourself possessed of such a heart as mine: we were both satisfied; you thought me deceived, whilst I deceived you. You must doubtless be surprized at my addressing you in such a stile as this. Is it possible then, that after having overwhelmed thee with my affliction, I should still have it in my power to make thee admire my resolution? But all this is over now, the poison wastes me away, my strength forsakes me, the pen drops from my hand; I find even my hatred grow weaker: I die.