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Richardson, Samuel, 1689-1761

"Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded"


Poor man! said I. Ay, said he, but not too much of your poor man, in
that soft accent, neither, Pamela.--Said I, I am sorry my voice is so
startling to you, Mr. Williams. What are you reading? Sir, said he, and
stammered with the surprise, it is the French Telemachus; for I am about
perfecting myself, if I can, in the French tongue.--Thought I, I had
rather so, than perfecting my Pamela in it.--You do well, replied I.--
Don't you think that yonder cloud may give us a small shower? and it did
a little begin to wet.--He said, he believed not much.
If, said I, you are for the village, I'll give you a cast; for I shall
call at Sir Simon's in my return from the little round I am taking. He
asked me if it was not too great a favour?--No, said I, don't talk of
that; let us walk to the further opening there, and we shall meet my
chariot.
So, Pamela, continued my master, we fell into conversation as we walked.
He said he was very sorry he had incurred my displeasure; and the more,
as he had been told, by Lady Jones, who had it from Sir Simon's family,
that I had a more honourable view than at first was apprehended. I said,
We fellows of fortune, Mr. Williams, take sometimes a little more liberty
with the world than we ought to do; wantoning, very probably, as you
contemplative folks would say, in the sunbeams of a dangerous affluence;
and cannot think of confining ourselves to the common paths, though the
safest and most eligible, after all.


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