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Richardson, Samuel, 1689-1761

"Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded"


My dear father's heart was full; and he said, with his hands folded, and
lifted up, Pray, sir, let me go--let me go--to my dear wife, and tell her
all these blessed things, while my heart holds; for it is ready to burst
with joy! Good man! said my master--I hope to hear this honest heart of
yours speaking at your lips. I enjoin you, Pamela, to continue your
relation, as you have opportunity; and though your father be here, write
to your mother, that this wondrous story be perfect, and we, your
friends, may read and admire you more and more. Ay, pray, pray do, my
child, said my father; and this is the reason that I write on, my dear
mother, when I thought not to do it, because my father could tell you all
that passed while he was here.
My master took notice of my psalm, and was pleased to commend it; and
said, That I had very charitably turned the last verses, which, in the
original, were full of heavy curses, to a wish that shewed I was not of
an implacable disposition though my then usage might have excused it, if
I had. But, said he, I think you shall sing it to me to-morrow.
After we have breakfasted, added he, if you have no objection, Pamela,
we'll take an airing together; and it shall be in the coach, because
we'll have your father's company.


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