Men of wit and fancy are often rakes; and fancy is the food of love. Such
men will inspire passion. Half the sex, in its present infantine state,
would pine for a Lovelace; a man so
witty, so graceful, and so valiant: and can they deserve blame for
acting according to principles so constantly inculcated? They want a
lover, and protector; and behold him kneeling before them -- bravery
prostrate to beauty! The virtues of a husband are thus thrown by love into
the background, and gay hopes, or lively emotions, banish reflection till
the day of reckoning comes; and come it surely will, to turn the sprightly
lover into a surly suspicious tyrant, who contemptuously insults the very
weakness he fostered. Or, supposing the rake reformed, he cannot quickly
get rid of old habits. When a man of abilities is first carried away by
his passions, it is necessary that sentiment and taste varnish the
enormities of vice, and give a zest to brutal indulgences; but when the
gloss of novelty is worn off, and pleasure palls upon the sense,
lasciviousness becomes barefaced, and enjoyment only the desperate effort
of weakness flying from reflection as from a legion of devils. Oh! virtue,
thou art not an empty name! All that life can give -- thou givest!
