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Richardson, Samuel, 1689-1761

"Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded"

The poor sheep in the fable had
such an one; when it was tried before the vulture, on the accusation of
the wolf!
So, Mrs. Jewkes, said he, you are the wolf, I the vulture, and this the
poor innocent lamb on her trial before us.--Oh! you don't know how well
this innocent is read in reflection. She has wit at will, when she has a
mind to display her own romantic innocence, at the price of other
people's characters.
Well, said the aggravated creature, this is nothing to what she has
called me: I have been a Jezebel, a London prostitute, and what not?--But
I am contented with her ill names, now I see it is her fashion, and she
can call your honour a vulture.
Said I, I had no thought of comparing my master--and was going to say on:
but he said, Don't prate, girl!--No, said she, it don't become you, I am
sure.
Well, said I, since I must not speak, I will hold my peace; but there is
a righteous Judge, who knows the secrets of all hearts; and to him I
appeal.
See there! said he: now this meek, good creature is praying for fire from
heaven upon us! O she can curse most heartily, in the spirit of
Christian meekness, I'll assure you!--Come, saucy-face, give me another
glass of wine.
So I did, as well as I could; but wept so, that he said, I suppose I
shall have some of your tears in my wine!
When he had supped, he stood up, and said, O how happy for you it is,
that you can, at will, thus make your speaking eyes overflow in this
manner, without losing any of their brilliancy! You have been told, I
suppose, that you are most beautiful in your tears!--Did you ever, said
he to her, (who all this while was standing in one corner of the
parlour,) see a more charming creature than this? Is it to be wondered
at, that I demean myself thus to take notice of her?--See, said he, and
took the glass with one hand, and turned me round with the other, what a
shape! what a neck! what a hand! and what a bloom on that lovely face!--
But who can describe the tricks and artifices, that lie lurking in her
little, plotting, guileful heart! 'Tis no wonder the poor parson was
infatuated with her.


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