--But, with your bewitching chit-chat, and
pretty impertinence, I will not lose my question. Where did you hide
your paper, pens, and ink?
Some, sir, in one place, some in another; that I might have some left, if
others should be found.--That's a good girl! said he; I love you for your
sweet veracity. Now tell me where it is you hide your written papers,
your saucy journal?--I must beg your excuse for that, sir, said I. But
indeed, answered he, you will not have it: for I will know, and I will
see them.--This is very hard, sir, said I; but I must say, you shall not,
if I can help it.
We were standing most of this time; but he then sat down, and took me by
both my hands, and said, Well said, my pretty Pamela, if you can help it!
But I will not let you help it. Tell me, are they in your pocket? No,
sir, said I; my heart up at my mouth. Said he, I know you won't tell a
downright fib for the world: but for equivocation! no jesuit ever went
beyond you. Answer me then, Are they in neither of your pockets? No,
sir, said I. Are they not, said he, about your stays? No, sir, replied
I: But pray no more questions: for ask me ever so much, I will not tell
you.
O, said he, I have a way for that. I can do as they do abroad, when the
criminals won't confess; torture them till they do.
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