"'To Miss _Fanny_, _&c._\n\n\n MADAM,\n\nIt will be naturally expected, that when I write the Life of\n_Shamela_, I should dedicate it to some young Lady, whose Wit and\nBeauty might be the proper Subject of a Comparison with the Heroine\nof my Piece. This, those, who see I have done it in prefixing your\nName to my Work, will much more confirmedly expect me to do; and,\nindeed, your Character would enable me to run some Length into a\nParallel, tho\' you, nor any one else, are at all like the matchless\n_Shamela_.\n\nYou see, Madam, I have some Value for your Good-nature, when in a\nDedication, which is properly a Panegyrick, I speak against, not for\nyou; but I remember it is a Life which I am presenting you, and why\nshould I expose my Veracity to any Hazard in the Front of the Work,\nconsidering what I have done in the Body. Indeed, I wish it was\npossible to write a Dedication, and get any thing by it, without one\nWord of Flattery; but since it is not, come on, and I hope to shew my\nDelicacy at least in the Compliments I intend to pay you.\n\n_First_, then, Madam, I must tell the World, that you have tickled up\nand brightned many Strokes in this Work by your Pencil.\n\n_Secondly_, You have intimately conversed with me, one of the\ngreatest Wits and Scholars of my Age.\n\n_Thirdly_, You keep very good Hours, and frequently spend an useful\nDay before others begin to enjoy it. This I will take my Oath on; for\nI am admitted to your Presence in a Morning before other People\'s\nServants are up; when I have constantly found you reading in good\nBooks; and if ever I have drawn you upon me, I have always felt you\nvery heavy.\n\n_Fourthly_, You have a Virtue which enables you to rise early and\nstudy hard, and that is, forbearing to over-eat yourself, and this in\nspite of all the luscious Temptations of Puddings and Custards,\nexciting the Brute (as Dr. _Woodward_ calls it) to rebel. This is a\nVirtue which I can greatly admire, though I much question whether I\ncould imitate it.\n\n_Fifthly_, A Circumstance greatly to your Honour, that by means of\nyour extraordinary Merit and Beauty; you was carried into the\nBall-Room at the _Bath_, by the discerning Mr. _Nash_; before the Age\nthat other young Ladies generally arrived at that Honour, and while\nyour Mamma herself existed in her perfect Bloom. Here you was\nobserved in Dancing to balance your Body exactly, and to weigh every\nMotion with the exact and equal Measure of Time and Tune; and though\nyou sometimes made a false Step, by leaning too much to one Side; yet\nevery body said you would one time or other, dance perfectly well,\nand uprightly.\n\n_Sixthly_, I cannot forbear mentioning those pretty little Sonnets,\nand sprightly Compositions, which though they came from you with so\nmuch Ease, might be mentioned to the Praise of a great or grave\nCharacter.\n\nAnd now, Madam, I have done with you; it only remains to pay my\nAcknowledgments to an Author, whose Stile I have exactly followed in\nthis Life, it being the properest for Biography. The Reader, I\nbelieve, easily guesses, I mean _Euclid\'s Elements_; it was _Euclid_\nwho taught me to write. It is you, Madam, who pay me for Writing.\nTherefore I am to both,\n\n _A most Obedient, and_\n\n _obliged humble Servant_,\n\n Conny Keyber.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n LETTERS\n TO THE\n EDITOR.\n\n\nThe EDITOR to _Himself_.\n\n _Dear SIR_,\n\nHowever you came by the excellent _Shamela_, out with it, without\nFear or Favour, Dedication and all; believe me, it will go through\nmany Editions, be translated into all Languages, read in all Nations\nand Ages, and to say a bold Word, it will do more good than the\n_C----y_ have done harm in the World,\n\n _I am, Sir,_\n\n _Sincerely your Well-wisher_,\n\n Yourself.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nJOHN PUFF, _Esq; to the_ EDITOR.\n\n _SIR_,\n\nI have read your _Shamela_ through and through, and a most inimitable\nPerformance it is. Who is he, what is he that could write so\nexcellent a Book? he must be doubtless most agreeable to the Age, and\nto _his Honour_ himself; for he is able to draw every thing to\nPerfection but Virtue. Whoever the Author be, he hath one of the\nworst and most fashionable Hearts in the World, and I would recommend\nto him, in his next Performance, to undertake the Life of _his\nHonour_. For he who drew the Character of Parson _Williams_, is equal\nto the Task; nay he seems to have little more to do than to pull off\nthe Parson\'s Gown, and _that_ which makes him so agreeable to\n_Shamela_, and the Cap will fit.\n\n _I am, Sir,_\n\n _Your humble Servant_,\n\n JOHN PUFF.\n\n_Note_, Reader, several other COMMENDATORY LETTERS and COPIES OF\nVERSES will be prepared against the NEXT EDITION.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n AN\n APOLOGY\n For the LIFE of\n Mrs. SHAMELA ANDREWS.\n\n\n_Parson_ TICKLETEXT _to Parson_ OLIVER.\n\n _Rev. SIR_,\n\nHerewith I transmit you a Copy of sweet, dear, pretty _Pamela_, a\nlittle Book which this Winter hath produced, of which, I make no\ndoubt, you have already heard mention from some of your Neighbouring\nClergy; for we have made it our common Business here, not only to cry\nit up, but to preach it up likewise: The Pulpit, as well as the\nCoffee-house, hath resounded with its Praise, and it is expected\nshortly, that his L--p will recommend it in a ---- Letter to our\nwhole Body.\n\nAnd this Example, I am confident, will be imitated by all our Cloth\nin the Country: For besides speaking well of a Brother, in the\nCharacter of the Reverend Mr. _Williams_, the useful and truly\nreligious Doctrine of _Grace_ is every where inculcated.\n\nThis Book is the \"SOUL of _Religion_, Good-Breeding, Discretion,\nGood-Nature, Wit, Fancy, Fine Thought, and Morality. There is an\nEase, a natural Air, a dignified Simplicity, and MEASURED FULLNESS in\nit, that RESEMBLING LIFE, OUT-GLOWS IT. The Author hath reconciled\nthe _pleasing_ to the _proper_; the Thought is every where exactly\ncloathed by the Expression; and becomes its Dress as _roundly_ and as\nclose as _Pamela_ her Country Habit; or _as she doth her no Habit_,\nwhen modest Beauty seeks to hide itself, by casting off the Pride of\nOrnament, and displays itself without any Covering;\" which it\nfrequently doth in this admirable Work, and presents Images to the\nReader, which the coldest Zealot cannot read without Emotion.\n\nFor my own Part (and, I believe, I may say the same of all the Clergy\nof my Acquaintance) \"I have done nothing but read it to others, and\nhear others again read it to me, ever since it came into my Hands;\nand I find I am like to do nothing else, for I know not how long yet\nto come: because if I lay the Book down _it comes after me_. When it\nhas dwelt all Day long upon the Ear, it takes Possession all Night of\nthe Fancy. It hath Witchcraft in every Page of it.----Oh! I feel an\nEmotion even while I am relating this: Methinks I see _Pamela_ at\nthis Instant, with all the Pride of Ornament cast off.\n\n\"Little Book, charming _Pamela_, get thee gone; face the World, in\nwhich thou wilt find nothing like thyself.\" Happy would it be for\nMankind, if all other Books were burnt, that we might do nothing but\nread thee all Day, and dream of thee all Night. Thou alone art\nsufficient to teach us as much Morality as we want. Dost thou not\nteach us to pray, to sing Psalms, and to honour the Clergy? Are not\nthese the whole Duty of Man? Forgive me, O Author of _Pamela_,\nmentioning the Name of a Book so unequal to thine: But, now I think\nof it, who is the Author, where is he, what is he, that hath hitherto\nbeen able to hide such an encircling, all-mastering Spirit, \"he\npossesses every Quality that Art could have charm\'d by: yet hath lent\nit to and concealed it in Nature. The Comprehensiveness of his\nImagination must be truly prodigious! It has stretched out this\ndiminutive mere Grain of Mustard-seed (a poor Girl\'s little, _&c._)\ninto a Resemblance of that Heaven, which the best of good Books has\ncompared it to.\"\n\nTo be short, this Book will live to the Age of the Patriarchs, and\nlike them will carry on the good Work many hundreds of Years hence,\namong our Posterity, who will not HESITATE their Esteem with\nRestraint. If the _Romans_ granted Exemptions to Men who begat a\n_few_ Children for the Republick, what Distinction (if Policy and we\nshould ever be reconciled) should we find to reward this Father of\nMillions, which are to owe Formation to the future Effect of his\nInfluence.----I feel another Emotion.\n\nAs soon as you have read this yourself five or six Times over (which\nmay possibly happen within a Week) I desire you would give it to my\nlittle God-Daughter, as a Present from me. This being the only\nEducation we intend henceforth to give our Daughters. And pray let\nyour Servant-Maids read it over, or read it to them. Both your self\nand the neighbouring Clergy, will supply yourselves for the Pulpit\nfrom the Book-sellers, as soon as the fourth Edition is published. I\nam,\n\n _Sir,_\n\n _Your most humble Servant_,\n\n THO. TICKLETEXT.\n\n\n_Parson_ OLIVER _to Parson_ TICKLETEXT.\n\n _Rev. SIR_,\n\nI Received the Favour of yours with the inclosed Book, and really\nmust own myself sorry, to see the Report I have heard of an\nepidemical Phrenzy now raging in Town, confirmed in the Person of my\nFriend.\n\nIf I had not known your Hand, I should, from the Sentiments and Stile\nof the Letter, have imagined it to have come from the Author of the\nfamous Apology, which was sent me last Summer; and on my reading the\nremarkable Paragraph of _measured Fulness, that resembling Life\nout-glows it_, to a young Baronet, he cry\'d out, _C----ly C----b--r_\nby G----. But I have since observed, that this, as well as many other\nExpressions in your Letter, was borrowed from those remarkable\nEpistles, which the Author, or the Editor hath prefix\'d to the second\nEdition which you send me of his Book.\n\nIs it possible that you or any of your Function can be in earnest, or\nthink the Cause of Religion, or Morality, can want such slender\nSupport? God forbid they should. As for Honour to the Clergy, I am\nsorry to see them so solicitous about it; for if worldly Honour be\nmeant, it is what their Predecessors in the pure and primitive Age,\nnever had or sought. Indeed the secure Satisfaction of a good\nConscience, the Approbation of the Wise and Good, (which, never were\nor will be the Generality of Mankind) and the extatick Pleasure of\ncontemplating, that their Ways are acceptable to the Great Creator of\nthe Universe, will always attend those, who really deserve these\nBlessings: But for worldly Honours, they are often the Purchase of\nForce and Fraud, we sometimes see them in an eminent Degree possessed\nby Men, who are notorious for Luxury, Pride, Cruelty, Treachery, and\nthe most abandoned Prostitution; Wretches who are ready to invent and\nmaintain Schemes repugnant to the Interest, the Liberty, and the\nHappiness of Mankind, not to supply their Necessities, or even\nConveniencies, but to pamper their Avarice and Ambition. And if this\nbe the Road to worldly Honours, God forbid the Clergy should be even\nsuspected of walking in it.\n\nThe History of _Pamela_ I was acquainted with long before I received\nit from you, from my Neighbourhood to the Scene of Action. Indeed I\nwas in hopes that young Woman would have contented herself with the\nGood-fortune she hath attained; and rather suffered her little Arts\nto have been forgotten than have revived their Remembrance, and\nendeavoured by perverting and misrepresenting Facts to be thought to\ndeserve what she now enjoys: for though we do not imagine her the\nAuthor of the Narrative itself, yet we must suppose the Instructions\nwere given by her, as well as the Reward, to the Composer. Who that\nis, though you so earnestly require of me, I shall leave you to guess\nfrom that _Ciceronian_ Eloquence, with which the Work abounds; and\nthat excellent Knack of making every Character amiable, which he lays\nhis hands on.\n\nBut before I send you some Papers relating to this Matter, which will\nset _Pamela_ and some others in a very different Light, than that in\nwhich they appear in the printed Book, I must beg leave to make some\nfew Remarks on the Book itself, and its Tendency, (admitting it to be\na true Relation,) towards improving Morality, or doing any good,\neither to the present Age, or Posterity: which when I have done, I\nshall, I flatter myself, stand excused from delivering it, either\ninto the hands of my Daughter, or my Servant-Maid.\n\nThe Instruction which it conveys to Servant-Maids, is, I think, very\nplainly this, To look out for their Masters as sharp as they can. The\nConsequences of which will be, besides Neglect of their Business, and\nthe using all manner of Means to come at Ornaments of their Persons,\nthat if the Master is not a Fool, they will be debauched by him; and\nif he is a Fool, they will marry him. Neither of which, I apprehend,\nmy good Friend, we desire should be the Case of our Sons.\n\nAnd notwithstanding our Author\'s Professions of Modesty, which in my\nYouth I have heard at the Beginning of an Epilogue, I cannot agree\nthat my Daughter should entertain herself with some of his Pictures;\nwhich I do not expect to be contemplated without Emotion, unless by\none of my Age and Temper, who can see the Girl lie on her Back, with\none Arm round Mrs. _Jewkes_ and the other round the Squire, naked in\nBed, with his Hand on her Breasts, _&c._ with as much Indifference as\nI read any other Page in the whole Novel. But surely this, and some\nother Descriptions, will not be put into the hands of his Daughter by\nany wise Man, though I believe it will be difficult for him to keep\nthem from her; especially if the Clergy in Town have cried and\npreached it up as you say.\n\nBut, my Friend, the whole Narrative is such a Misrepresentation of\nFacts, such a Perversion of Truth, as you will, I am perswaded,\nagree, as soon as you have perused the Papers I now inclose to you,\nthat I hope you or some other well-disposed Person, will communicate\nthese Papers to the Publick, that this little Jade may not impose on\nthe World, as she hath on her Master.\n\nThe true name of this Wench was SHAMELA, and not _Pamela_, as she\nstiles herself. Her Father had in his Youth the Misfortune to appear\nin no good Light at the _Old-Bailey_; he afterwards served in the\nCapacity of a Drummer in one of the _Scotch_ Regiments in the _Dutch_\nService; where being drummed out, he came over to _England_, and\nturned Informer against several Persons on the late Gin-Act; and\nbecoming acquainted with an Hostler at an Inn, where a _Scotch_\nGentleman\'s Horses stood, he hath at last by his Interest obtain\'d a\npretty snug Place in the _Custom-house_. Her Mother sold Oranges in\nthe Play-House; and whether she was married to her Father or no, I\nnever could learn.\n\n * * * * *\n\nAfter this short Introduction, the rest of her History will appear in\nthe following Letters, which I assure you are authentick.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nLETTER I.\n\n\nSHAMELA ANDREWS _to Mrs._ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS _at her\nLodgings at the_ Fan _and_ Pepper-Box _in_ Drury-Lane.\n\n _Dear Mamma_,\n\nThis comes to acquaint you, that I shall set out in the Waggon on\n_Monday_, desiring you to commodate me with a Ludgin, as near you as\npossible, in _Coulstin\'s-Court_, or _Wild-Street_, or somewhere\nthereabouts; pray let it be handsome, and not above two Stories high:\nFor Parson _Williams_ hath promised to visit me when he comes to\nTown, and I have got a good many fine Cloaths of the Old Put my\nMistress\'s, who died a wil ago; and I beleve Mrs. _Jervis_ will come\nalong with me, for she says she would like to keep a House somewhere\nabout _Short\'s-Gardens_, or towards _Queen-Street_; and if there was\nconvenience for a _Bannio_, she should like it the better; but that\nshe will settle herself when she comes to Town.----_O! How I long to\nbe in the Balconey at the Old House_----so no more at present from\n\n _Your affectionate Daughter_,\n\n SHAMELA.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER II.\n\n\nSHAMELA ANDREWS _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\n _Dear Mamma_,\n\nO what News, since I writ my last! the young Squire hath been here,\nand as sure as a Gun he hath taken a Fancy to me; _Pamela_, says he,\n(for so I am called here) you was a great Favourite of your late\nMistress\'s; yes, an\'t please your Honour; says I; and I believe you\ndeserved it, says he; thank your Honour for your good Opinion, says\nI; and then he took me by the Hand, and I pretended to be shy: Laud,\nsays I, Sir, I hope you don\'t intend to be rude; no, says he, my\nDear, and then he kissed me, \'till he took away my breath----and I\npretended to be Angry, and to get away, and then he kissed me again,\nand breathed very short, and looked very silly; and by Ill-Luck Mrs.\n_Jervis_ came in, and had like to have spoiled Sport.----_How\ntroublesome is such Interruption!_ You shall hear now soon, for I\nshall not come away yet, so I rest,\n\n _Your affectionate Daughter_,\n\n SHAMELA.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER III.\n\n\nHENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS _to_ SHAMELA ANDREWS.\n\n _Dear Sham_,\n\nYour last Letter hath put me into a great hurry of Spirits, for you\nhave a very difficult Part to act. I hope you will remember your Slip\nwith Parson _Williams_, and not be guilty of any more such Folly.\nTruly, a Girl who hath once known what is what, is in the highest\nDegree inexcusable if she respects her _Digressions_; but a Hint of\nthis is sufficient. When Mrs. _Jervis_ thinks of coming to Town, I\nbelieve I can procure her a good House, and fit for the Business; so\nI am,\n\n _Your affectionate Mother_,\n\n HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER IV.\n\n\nSHAMELA ANDREWS _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\nMarry come up, good Madam, the Mother had never looked into the Oven\nfor her Daughter, if she had not been there herself. I shall never\nhave done if you upbraid me with having had a small One by _Arthur\nWilliams_, when you yourself--but I say no more. _O! What fine Times\nwhen the Kettle calls the Pot._ Let me do what I will, I say my\nPrayers as often as another, and I read in good Books, as often as I\nhave Leisure; and Parson _William_ says, that will make amends.--So\nno more, but I rest\n\n _Your afflicted Daughter_,\n\n S----.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER V.\n\n\nHENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS _to_ SHAMELA ANDREWS.\n\n _Dear Child_,\n\nWhy will you give such way to your Passion? How could you imagine I\nshould be such a Simpleton, as to upbraid thee with being thy\nMother\'s own Daughter! When I advised you not to be guilty of Folly,\nI meant no more than that you should take care to be well paid\nbefore-hand, and not trust to Promises, which a Man seldom keeps,\nafter he hath had his wicked Will. And seeing you have a rich Fool to\ndeal with, your not making a good Market will be the more\ninexcusable; indeed, with such Gentlemen as Parson _Williams_, there\nis more to be said; for they have nothing to give, and are commonly\notherwise the best sort of Men. I am glad to hear you read good\nBooks, pray continue so to do. I have inclosed you one of Mr.\n_Whitefield\'s_ Sermons, and also the Dealings with him, and am\n\n _Your affectionate Mother_,\n\n HENRIETTA MARIA, _&c._\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VI.\n\n\nSHAMELA ANDREWS _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\nO Madam, I have strange Things to tell you! As I was reading in that\ncharming Book about the Dealings, in comes my Master--to be sure he\nis a precious One. _Pamela_, says he, what Book is that, I warrant\nyou _Rochester\'s_ Poems.--No, forsooth, says I, as pertly as I could;\nwhy how now Saucy Chops, Boldface, says he--Mighty pretty Words, says\nI, pert again.--Yes (says he) you are a d--d, impudent, stinking,\ncursed, confounded Jade, and I have a great Mind to kick your A----.\nYou, kiss ---- says I. A-gad, says he, and so I will; with that he\ncaught me in his Arms, and kissed me till he made my Face all over\nFire. Now this served purely you know, to put upon the Fool for\nAnger. O! What precious Fools Men are! And so I flung from him in a\nmighty Rage, and pretended as how I would go out at the Door; but\nwhen I came to the End of the Room, I stood still, and my Master\ncryed out, Hussy, Slut, Saucebox, Boldface, come hither----Yes to be\nsure, says I; why don\'t you come, says he; what should I come for\nsays I; if you don\'t come to me, I\'ll come to you, says he; I shan\'t\ncome to you I assure you, says I. Upon which he run up, caught me in\nhis Arms, and flung me upon a Chair, and began to offer to touch my\nUnder-Petticoat. Sir, says I, you had better not offer to be rude;\nwell, says he, no more I won\'t then; and away he went out of the\nRoom. I was so mad to be sure I could have cry\'d.\n\n_Oh what a prodigious Vexation it is to a Woman to be made a Fool\nof._\n\nMrs. _Jervis_ who had been without, harkening, now came to me. She\nburst into a violent Laugh the Moment she came in. Well, says she, as\nsoon as she could speak, I have Reason to bless myself that I am an\nOld Woman. Ah Child! if you had known the Jolly Blades of my Age, you\nwould not have been left in the lurch in this manner. Dear Mrs.\n_Jervis_, says I, don\'t laugh at one; and to be sure I was a little\nangry With her.----Come, says she, my dear Honeysuckle, I have one\nGame to play for you; he shall see you in Bed; he shall, my little\nRosebud, he shall see those pretty, little, white, round,\npanting----and offer\'d to pull off my Handkerchief.--Fie, Mrs.\n_Jervis_, says I, you make me blush, and upon my Fackins, I believe\nshe did: She went on thus. I know the Squire likes you, and\nnotwithstanding the Aukwardness of his Proceeding, I am convinced\nhath some hot Blood in his Veins, which will not let him rest, \'till\nhe hath communicated some of his Warmth to thee my little Angel; I\nheard him last Night at our Door, trying if it was open, now to-night\nI will take care it shall be so; I warrant that he makes the second\nTrial; which if he doth, he shall find us ready to receive him. I\nwill at first counterfeit Sleep, and after a Swoon; so that he will\nhave you naked in his Possession: and then if you are disappointed, a\nPlague of all young Squires, say I.----And so, Mrs. _Jervis_, says I,\nyou would have me yield myself to him, would you; you would have me\nbe a second Time a Fool for nothing. Thank you for that, Mrs.\n_Jervis_. For nothing! marry forbid, says she, you know he hath large\nSums of Money, besides abundance of fine Things; and do you think,\nwhen you have inflamed him, by giving his Hand a Liberty with that\ncharming Person; and that you know he may easily think he obtains\nagainst your Will, he will not give any thing to come at all----.\nThis will not do, Mrs. _Jervis_, answered I. I Have heard my Mamma\nsay, (and so you know, Madam, I have) that in her Youth, Fellows have\noften taken away in the Morning, what they gave over Night. No, Mrs.\n_Jervis_, nothing under a regular taking into Keeping, a settled\nSettlement, for me, and all my Heirs, all my whole Life-time, shall\ndo the Business----or else cross-legged, is the Word, faith, with\n_Sham_; and then I snapt my Fingers.\n\n\n_Thursday Night, Twelve o\'Clock._\n\nMrs. _Jervis_ and I are just in Bed, and the Door unlocked; if my\nMaster should come----Odsbobs! I hear him just coming in at the Door.\nYou see I write in the present Tense, as Parson _Williams_ says.\nWell, he is in Bed between us, we both shamming a Sleep, he steals\nhis Hand into my Bosom, which I, as if in my Sleep, press close to me\nwith mine, and then pretend to awake.--I no sooner see him, but I\nScream out to Mrs. _Jervis_, she feigns likewise but just to come to\nherself; we both begin, she to becall, and I to bescratch very\nliberally. After having made a pretty free Use of my Fingers, without\nany great Regard to the Parts I attack\'d, I counterfeit a Swoon. Mrs.\n_Jervis_ then cries out, O, Sir, what have you done, you have\nmurthered poor _Pamela_: she is gone, she is gone.----\n\n_O what a Difficulty it is to keep one\'s Countenance, when a violent\nLaugh desires to burst forth._\n\nThe poor Booby frightned out of his Wits, jumped out of Bed, and, in\nhis Shirt, sat down by my Bed-Side, pale and trembling, for the Moon\nshone, and I kept my Eyes wide open, and pretended to fix them in my\nHead. Mrs. _Jervis_ apply\'d Lavender Water, and Hartshorn, and this,\nfor a full half Hour; when thinking I had carried it on long enough,\nand being likewise unable to continue the Sport any longer, I began\nby Degrees to come to my self.\n\nThe Squire, who had sat all this while speechless, and was almost\nreally in that Condition, which I feigned, the Moment he Saw me give\nSymptoms of recovering my Senses, fell down on his Knees; and O\n_Pamela_, cryed he, can you forgive me, my injured Maid? by Heaven, I\nknow not whether you are a Man or a Woman, unless by your swelling\nBreasts. Will you promise to forgive me: I forgive you! D--n you\n(says I) and d--n you says he, if you come to that. I wish I had\nnever seen your bold Face, saucy Sow, and so went out of the Room.\n\n_O what a silly Fellow is a bashful young Lover!_\n\nHe was no Sooner out of hearing, as we thought, than we both burst\ninto a violent Laugh. Well, says Mrs. _Jervis_, I never saw any thing\nbetter acted than your Part: But I wish you may not have discouraged\nhim from any future Attempt; especially since his Passions are so\ncool, that you could prevent his Hands going further than your Bosom.\nHang him, answered I, he is not quite so cold as that I assure you;\nour Hands, on neither side, were idle in the Scuffle, nor have left\nus any Doubt of each other as to that matter.\n\n\n_Friday Morning._\n\nMy Master sent for Mrs. _Jervis_ as soon as he was up, and bid her\ngive an Account of the Plate and Linnen in her Care; and told her, he\nwas resolved that both she and the little Gipsy (I\'ll assure him)\nshould set out together. Mrs. _Jervis_ made him a saucy Answer; which\nany Servant of Spirit, you know, would, tho\' it should be one\'s Ruin;\nand came immediately in Tears to me, crying, she had lost her Place\non my Account, and that she should be forced to take to a House, as I\nmentioned before; and that she hoped I would, at least, make her all\nthe amends in my power, for her Loss on my Account, and come to her\nHouse whenever I was sent for. Never fear, says I, I\'ll warrant we\nare not so near being turned away, as you imagine; and, i\'cod, now it\ncomes into my Head, I have a Fetch for him, and you shall assist me\nin it. But it being now late, and my Letter pretty long, no more at\npresent from\n\n _Your Dutiful Daughter_,\n\n SHAMELA.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VII.\n\n\n_Mrs._ LUCRETIA JERVIS _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\n _Madam_,\n\nMiss _Sham_ being set out in a Hurry for my Master\'s House in\n_Lincolnshire_, desired me to acquaint you with the Success of her\nStratagem, which was to dress herself in the plain Neatness of a\nFarmer\'s Daughter, for she before wore the Cloaths of my late\nMistress, and to be introduced by me as a Stranger to her Master. To\nsay the Truth, she became the Dress extremely, and if I was to keep a\nHouse a thousand Years, I would never desire a prettier Wench in it.\n\nAs soon as my Master saw her, he immediately threw his Arms round her\nNeck, and smothered her with Kisses (for indeed he hath but very\nlittle to say for himself to a Woman.) He swore that _Pamela_ was an\nugly Slut, (pardon, dear Madam, the Coarseness of the Expression)\ncompared to such divine Excellence. He added, he would turn _Pamela_\naway immediately, and take this new Girl, whom he thought to be one\nof his Tenant\'s Daughters, in her Room.\n\nMiss _Sham_ smiled at these Words, and so did your humble Servant,\nwhich he perceiving, looked very earnestly at your fair Daughter, and\ndiscovered the Cheat.\n\nHow, _Pamela_, says he, is it you? I thought, Sir, said Miss, after\nwhat had happened, you would have known me in any Dress. No, Hussy,\nsays he, but after what hath happened, I should know thee out of any\nDress from all thy Sex. He then was what we Women call rude, when\ndone in the Presence of others; but it seems it is not the first\ntime, and Miss defended herself with great Strength and Spirit.\n\nThe Squire, who thinks her a pure Virgin, and who knows nothing of my\nCharacter, resolved to send her into _Lincolnshire_, on Pretence of\nconveying her home; where our old Friend _Nanny Jewkes_ is\nHousekeeper, and where Miss had her small one by Parson _Williams_\nabout a Year ago. This is a Piece of News communicated to us by\n_Robin_ Coachman, who is intrusted by his Master to carry on this\nAffair privately for him: But we hang together, I believe, as well as\nany Family of Servants in the Nation.\n\nYou will, I believe, Madam, wonder that the Squire, who doth not want\nGenerosity, should never have mentioned a Settlement all this while,\nI believe it slips his Memory: But it will not be long first, no\ndoubt: For, as I am convinced the young Lady will do nothing\nunbecoming your Daughter, nor ever admit him to taste her Charms,\nwithout something sure and handsome before-hand; so, I am certain,\nthe Squire will never rest till they have danced _Adam_ and _Eve\'s_\nkissing Dance together. Your Daughter set out Yesterday Morning, and\ntold me, as soon as she arrived, you might depend on hearing from\nher.\n\nBe pleased to make my Compliments acceptable to Mrs. _Davis_ and Mrs.\n_Silvester_, and Mrs. _Jolly_, and all Friends, and permit me the\nHonour, Madam, to be with the utmost Sincerity,\n\n _Your most Obedient_,\n\n _Humble Servant_,\n\n LUCRETIA JERVIS.\n\nIf the Squire should continue his Displeasure against me, so as to\ninsist on the Warning he hath given me, you will see me soon, and I\nwill lodge in the same House with you, if you have room, till I can\nprovide for my self to my Liking.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER VIII.\n\n\nHENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS _to_ LUCRETIA JERVIS.\n\n _Madam_,\n\nI Received the Favour of your Letter, and I find you have not forgot\nyour usual Poluteness, which you learned when you was in keeping with\na Lord.\n\nI am very much obliged to you for your Care of my Daughter, am glad\nto hear she hath taken such good Resolutions, and hope she will have\nsufficient Grace to maintain them.\n\nAll Friends are well, and remember to you. You will excuse the\nShortness of this Scroll; for I have Sprained my right Hand, with\nboxing three new made Officers.--Tho\' to my Comfort, I beat them all.\nI rest,\n\n _Your Friend and Servant_,\n\n HENRIETTA, _&c._\n\n\n\n\nLETTER IX.\n\n\nSHAMELA ANDREWS _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\n _Dear Mamma_,\n\nI Suppose Mrs. _Jervis_ acquainted you with what past \'till I left\n_Bedfordshire_; whence I am after a very pleasant Journey arrived in\n_Lincolnshire_, with your old Acquaintance Mrs. _Jewkes_, who\nformerly helped Parson _Williams_ to me; and now designs I see, to\nsell me to my Master; thank her for that; she will find two Words go\nto that Bargain.\n\nThe Day after my Arrival here, I received a Letter from Mr.\n_Williams_, and as you have often desired to see one from him, I have\ninclosed it to you; it is, I think, the finest I ever received from\nthat charming Man, and full of a great deal of Learning.\n\n_O! What a brave Thing it is to be a Schollard, and to be able to\ntalk Latin._\n\n\n_Parson_ WILLIAMS _to_ PAMELA ANDREWS.\n\n _Mrs. Pamela_,\n\nHaving learnt by means of my Clerk, who Yesternight visited the\nRev^d. Mr. _Peters_ with my Commands, that you are returned into this\nCounty, I purposed to have saluted your fair Hands this Day towards\nEven: But am obliged to sojourn this Night at a neighbouring\nClergyman\'s; where we are to pierce a Virgin Barrel of Ale, in a Cup\nof which I shall not be unmindful to celebrate your Health.\n\nI hope you have remembered your Promise, to bring me a leaden\nCanister of Tobacco (the Saffron Cut) for in Troth, this Country at\npresent affords nothing worthy the replenishing a Tube with.----Some\nI tasted, the other Day at an Alehouse, gave me the Heart-Burn, tho\'\nI filled no oftner than five times.\n\nI was greatly concerned to learn, that your late Lady left you\nnothing, tho\' I cannot say the Tidings much surprized me: For I am\ntoo intimately acquainted with the Family; (myself, Father, and\nGrandfather having been successive Incumbents on the same Cure, which\nyou know is in their Gift) I say, I am too well acquainted with them\nto expect much from their Generosity. They are in Verity, as\nworthless a Family as any other whatever. The young Gentleman I am\ninformed, is a perfect Reprobate that he hath an _Ingenium Versatile_\nto every Species of Vice, which, indeed, no one can much wonder at,\nwho animadverts on that want of Respect to the Clergy, which was\nobservable in him when a Child, I remember when he was at the Age of\nEleven only, he met my Father without either pulling off his Hat, or\nriding out of the way. Indeed, a Contempt of the Clergy is the\nfashionable Vice of the Times; but let such Wretches know, they\ncannot hate, detest, and despise us, half so much as we do them.\n\nHowever, I have prevailed on myself to write a civil Letter to your\nMaster, as there is a Probability of his being shortly in a Capacity\nof rendring me a Piece of Service; my good Friend and Neighbour the\nRev^d. Mr. _Squeeze-Tithe_ being, as I am informed by one whom I have\nemployed to attend for that Purpose, very near his Dissolution.\n\nYou see, sweet Mrs. _Pamela_, the Confidence with which I dictate\nthese Things to you; whom after those Endearments which have passed\nbetween us, I must in some Respects estimate as my Wife: For tho\' the\nOmission of the Service was a Sin; yet, as I have told you, it was a\nvenial One, of which I have truly repented, as I hope you have; and\nalso that you have continued the wholsome Office of reading good\nBooks, and are improved in your Psalmody, of which I shall have a\nspeedy Trial: For I purpose to give you a Sermon next _Sunday_, and\nshall spend the Evening with you, in Pleasures, which tho\' not\nstrictly innocent, are however to be purged away by frequent and\nsincere Repentance. I am,\n\n _Sweet Mrs._ Pamela,\n\n _Your faithful Servant_,\n\n ARTHUR WILLIAMS.\n\nYou find, Mamma, what a charming way he hath of Writing, and yet I\nassure you, that is not the most charming thing belonging to him:\nFor, tho\' he doth not put any Dears, and Sweets, and Loves into his\nLetters, yet he says a thousand of them: For he can be as fond of a\nWoman, as any Man living.\n\n_Sure Women are great Fools, when they prefer a laced Coat to the\nClergy, whom it is our Duty to honour and respect._\n\nWell, on _Sunday_ Parson _Williams_ came, according to his Promise,\nand an excellent Sermon he preached; his Text was, _Be not Righteous\nover much_; and, indeed, he handled it in a very fine way; he shewed\nus that the Bible doth not require too much Goodness of us, and that\nPeople very often call things Goodness that are not so. That to go to\nChurch, and to pray, and to sing Psalms, and to honour the Clergy,\nand to repent, is true Religion; and \'tis not doing good to one\nanother, for that is one of the greatest Sins we can commit, when we\ndon\'t do it for the sake of Religion. That those People who talk of\nVartue and Morality, are the wickedest of all Persons. That \'tis not\nwhat we do, but what we believe, that must save us, and a great many\nother good Things; I wish I could remember them all.\n\nAs soon as Church was over, he came to the Squire\'s House, and drank\nTea with Mrs. _Jewkes_ and me; after which Mrs. _Jewkes_ went out and\nleft us together for an Hour and half--Oh! he is a charming Man.\n\nAfter Supper he went Home, and then Mrs. _Jewkes_ began to catechize\nme, about my Familiarity with him. I see she wants him herself. Then\nshe proceeded to tell me what an Honour my Master did me in liking\nme, and that it was both an inexcusable Folly and Pride in me, to\npretend to refuse him any Favour. Pray, Madam, says I, consider I am\na poor Girl, and have nothing but my Modesty to trust to. If I part\nwith that, what will become of me. Methinks, says she, you are not so\nmighty modest when you are with Parson _Williams_; I have observed\nyou gloat at one another, in a Manner that hath made me blush. I\nassure you, I shall let the Squire know what sort of Man he is; you\nmay do your Will, says I, as long as he hath a Vote for\nPallamant-Men, the Squire dares do nothing to offend him; and you\nwill only shew that you are jealous of him, and that\'s all. How now,\nMynx, says she; Mynx! No more Mynx than yourself, says I; with that\nshe hit me a Slap on the Shoulder; and I flew at her and scratched\nher Face, i\'cod, \'till she went crying out of the Room; so no more at\npresent, from\n\n _Your Dutiful Daughter_,\n\n SHAMELA.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER X.\n\n\nSHAMELA ANDREWS _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\nO Mamma! Rare News! As soon as I was up this Morning, a Letter was\nbrought me from the Squire, of which I send you a Copy.\n\n\n_Squire_ BOOBY _to_ PAMELA.\n\n _Dear Creature_,\n\nI hope you are not angry with me for the Deceit put upon you, in\nconveying you to _Lincolnshire_, when you imagined yourself going to\n_London_. Indeed, my dear _Pamela_, I cannot live without you; and\nwill very shortly come down and convince you, that my Designs are\nbetter than you imagine, and such as you may with Honour comply with.\nI am,\n\n _My Dear Creature_,\n\n _Your doating Lover_,\n\n BOOBY.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNow, Mamma, what think you?----For my own Part, I am convinced he\nwill marry me, and faith so he shall. O! Bless me! I shall be Mrs.\n_Booby_ and be Mistress of a great Estate, and have a dozen Coaches\nand Six, and a fine House at _London_, and another at _Bath_, and\nServants, and Jewels, and Plate, and go to Plays, and Opera\'s, and\nCourt; and do what I will, and spend what I will. But, poor Parson\n_Williams_! Well; and can\'t I see Parson _Williams_, as well after\nMarriage as before: For I shall never care a Farthing for my Husband.\nNo, I hate and despise him of all Things.\n\nWell, as soon as I had read my Letter, in came Mrs. _Jewkes_. You\nsee, Madam, says she, I carry the Marks of your Passion about me; but\nI have received order from my Master to be civil to you, and I must\nobey him: For he is the best Man in the World, notwithstanding your\nTreatment of him. My Treatment of him, Madam, says I? Yes, says she,\nyour Insensibility to the Honour he intends you, of making you his\nMistress. I would have you to know, Madam, I would not be Mistress to\nthe greatest King, no nor Lord in the Universe. I value my Vartue\nmore than I do any thing my Master can give me; and so we talked a\nfull Hour and a half, about my Vartue; and I was afraid at first, she\nhad heard something about the Bantling, but I find she hath not; tho\'\nshe is as jealous, and suspicious, as old Scratch.\n\nIn the Afternoon, I stole into the Garden to meet Mr. _Williams_; I\nfound him at the Place of his Appointment, and we staid in a kind of\nArbour, till it was quite dark. He was very angry when I told him\nwhat Mrs. _Jewkes_ had threatned----Let him refuse me the Living,\nsays he, if he dares, I will vote for the other Party; and not only\nso, but will expose him all over the Country. I owe him 150_l._\nindeed, but I don\'t care for that; by that time the Election is past,\nI shall be able to plead the _Statue_ of _Lamentations_.\n\nI could have stayed with the dear Man forever, but when it grew dark,\nhe told me, he was to meet the neighbouring Clergy, to finish the\nBarrel of Ale they had tapped the other Day, and believed they should\nnot part till three or four in the Morning----So he left me, and I\npromised to be penitent, and go on with my reading in good Books.\n\nAs soon as he was gone, I bethought myself, what Excuse I should make\nto Mrs. _Jewkes_, and it came into my Head to pretend as how I\nintended to drown myself; so I stript off one of my Petticoats, and\nthrew it into the Canal; and then I went and hid myself in the\nCoal-hole, where I lay all Night; and comforted myself with repeating\nover some Psalms, and other good things, which I had got by heart.\n\nIn the Morning Mrs. _Jewkes_ and all the Servants were frighted out\nof their Wits, thinking I had run away; and not devising how they\nshould answer it to their Master. They searched all the likeliest\nPlaces they could think of for me, and at last saw my Petticoat\nfloating in the Pond. Then they got a Drag-Net, imagining I was\ndrowned, and intending to drag me out; but at last _Moll_ Cook coming\nfor some Coals, discovered me lying all along in no very good Pickle.\nBless me! Mrs. _Pamela_, says she, what can be the Meaning of this? I\ndon\'t know, says I, help me up, and I will go in to Breakfast, for\nindeed I am very hungry. Mrs. _Jewkes_ came in immediately, and was\nso rejoyced to find me alive, that she asked with great Good-Humour,\nwhere I had been? and how my Petticoat came into the Pond. I\nanswered, I believed the Devil had put it into my Head to drown my\nself; but it was a Fib; for I never saw the Devil in my Life, nor I\ndon\'t believe he hath any thing to do with me.\n\nSo much for this Matter. As soon as I had breakfasted, a Coach and\nSix came to the Door, and who should be in it but my Master.\n\nI immediately run up into my Room, and stript, and washed, and drest\nmy self as well as I could, and put on my prettiest round-ear\'d Cap,\nand pulled down my Stays, to shew as much as I could of my Bosom,\n(for Parson _Williams_ says that is the most beautiful part of a\nWoman) and then I practised over all my Airs before the Glass, and\nthen I sat down and read a Chapter in the Whole Duty of Man.\n\nThen Mrs. _Jewkes_ came to me and told me, my Master wanted me below,\nand says she, Don\'t behave like a Fool; No, thinks I to my self, I\nbelieve I shall find Wit enough for my Master and you too.\n\nSo down goes me I into the Parlour to him. _Pamela_, says he, the\nMoment I came in, you see I cannot stay long from you, which I think\nis a sufficient Proof of the Violence of my Passion. Yes, Sir, says\nI, I see your Honour intends to ruin me, that nothing but the\nDestruction of my Vartue will content you.\n\n_O what a charming Word that is, rest his Soul who first invented\nit._\n\nHow can you say I would ruin you, answered the Squire, when you shall\nnot ask any thing which I will not grant you. If that be true, says\nI, good your Honour let me go home to my poor but honest Parents;\nthat is all I have to ask, and do not ruin a poor Maiden, who is\nresolved to carry her Vartue to the Grave with her.\n\nHussy, says he, don\'t provoke me, don\'t provoke me, I say. You are\nabsolutely in my power, and if you won\'t let me lie with you by fair\nMeans, I will by Force. O la, Sir, says I, I don\'t understand your\npaw Words.----Very pretty Treatment indeed, says he, to say I use paw\nWords; Hussy, Gipsie, Hypocrite, Saucebox, Boldface, get out of my\nSight, or I will lend you such a Kick in the ---- I don\'t care to\nrepeat the Word, but he meant my hinder part. I was offering to go\naway, for I was half afraid, when he called me back, and took me\nround the Neck and kissed me, and then bid me go about my Business.\n\nI went directly into my Room, where Mrs. _Jewkes_ came to me soon\nafterwards. So Madam, says she, you have left my Master below in a\nfine Pet, he hath threshed two or three of his Men already: It is\nmight pretty that all his Servants are to be punished for your\nImpertinence.\n\nHarkee, Madam, says I, don\'t you affront me, for if you do, d--n me\n(I am sure I have repented for using such a Word) if I am not\nrevenged.\n\n_How sweet is Revenge: Sure the Sermon Book is in the Right, in\ncalling it the sweetest Morsel the Devil ever dropped into the Mouth\nof a Sinner._\n\nMrs. _Jewkes_ remembered the Smart of my Nails too well to go\nfarther, and so we sat down and talked about my Vartue till\nDinner-time, and then I was sent for to wait on my Master. I took\ncare to be often caught looking at him, and then I always turn\'d away\nmy Eyes, and pretended to be ashamed. As soon as the Cloth was\nremoved, he put a Bumper of Champagne into my Hand, and bid me\ndrink----O la I can\'t name the Health. Parson _Williams_ may well say\nhe is a wicked Man.\n\nMrs. _Jewkes_ took a Glass and drank the dear _Monysyllable_; I don\'t\nunderstand that Word, but I believe it is baudy. I then drank towards\nhis Honour\'s good Pleasure. Ay, Hussy, says he, you can give me\nPleasure if you will; Sir, says I, I shall be always glad to do what\nis in my power, and so I pretended not to know what he meant. Then he\ntook me into his Lap.--O Mamma, I could tell you something if I\nwould--and he kissed me----and I said I won\'t be slobber\'d about so,\nso I won\'t; and he bid me get out of the Room for a saucy Baggage,\nand said he had a good mind to spit in my Face.\n\n_Sure no Man over took such a Method to gain a Woman\'s Heart._\n\nI had not been long in my Chamber before Mrs. _Jewkes_ came to me,\nand told me, my Master would not see me any more that Evening, that\nis, if he can help it; for, added she, I easily perceive the great\nAscendant you have over him, and to confess the Truth, I don\'t doubt\nbut you will shortly be my Mistress.\n\nWhat says I, dear Mrs. _Jewkes_, what do you say? Don\'t flatter a\npoor Girl, it is impossible his Honour can have any honourable Design\nupon me. And so we talked of honourable Designs till Supper-time. And\nMrs. _Jewkes_ and I supped together upon a hot buttered Apple-Pie;\nand about ten o\'Clock we went to Bed.\n\nWe had not been a Bed half an Hour, when my Master came pit a pat\ninto the Room in his Shirt as before. I pretended not to hear him,\nand Mrs. _Jewkes_ laid hold of one Arm, and he pulled down the Bed\ncloaths and came into Bed on the other Side, and took my other Arm\nand laid it under him, and fell a kissing one of my Breasts as if he\nwould have devoured it; I was then forced to awake, and began to\nstruggle with him, Mrs. _Jewkes_ crying why don\'t you do it? I have\none Arm secure, if you can\'t deal with the rest I am sorry for you.\nHe was as rude as possible to me; but I remembered, Mamma, the\nInstructions you gave me to avoid being ravished, and followed them,\nwhich soon brought him to Terms, and he promised me, on quitting my\nhold, that he would leave the Bed.\n\n_O Parson_ Williams, _how little are all the Men in the World\ncompared to thee_.\n\nMy Master was as good as his Word; upon which Mrs. _Jewkes_ said, O\nSir, I see you know very little of our _Sect_, by parting so easily\nfrom the Blessing when you was so near it. No, Mrs. _Jewkes_,\nanswered he, I am very glad no more hath happened, I would not have\ninjured _Pamela_ for the World. And to-morrow Morning perhaps she may\nhear of something to her Advantage. This she may be certain of, that\nI will never take her by Force, and then he left the Room.\n\nWhat think you now, Mrs. _Pamela_, says Mrs. _Jewkes_, are you not\nyet persuaded my Master hath honourable Designs? I think he hath\ngiven no great Proof of them to-night, said I. Your Experience I find\nis not great, says she, but I am convinced you will shortly be my\nMistress, and then what will become of poor me.\n\nWith such sort of Discourse we both fell asleep. Next Morning early\nmy Master sent for me, and after kissing me, gave a Paper into my\nHand which he bid me read; I did so, and found it to be a Proposal\nfor settling 250_l._ a Year on me, besides several other advantagious\nOffers, as Presents of Money and other things. Well, _Pamela_, said\nhe, what Answer do you make me to this. Sir, said I, I value my\nVartue more than all the World, and I had rather be the poorest Man\'s\nWife, than the richest Man\'s Whore. You are a Simpleton, said he;\nThat may be, and yet I may have as much Wit as some Folks, cry\'d I;\nmeaning me, I suppose, said he, every Man knows himself best, says I.\nHussy, says he, get out of the Room, and let me see your saucy Face\nno more, for I find I am in more Danger than you are, and therefore\nit shall be my Business to avoid you as much as I can; and it shall\nbe mine, thinks I, at every turn to throw my self in your way. So I\nwent out, and as I parted, I heard him sigh and say he was bewitched.\n\nMrs. _Jewkes_ hath been with me since, and she assures me she is\nconvinced I shall shortly be Mistress of the Family, and she really\nbehaves to me, as if she already thought me so. I am resolved now to\naim at it. I thought once of making a little Fortune by my Person. I\nnow intend to make a great one by my Vartue. So asking Pardon for\nthis long Scroll, I am,\n\n _Your dutiful Daughter_,\n\n SHAMELA.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER XI.\n\n\nHENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS _to_ SHAMELA ANDREWS.\n\n _Dear Sham_,\n\nI Received your last Letter with infinite Pleasure, and am convinced\nit will be your own Fault if you are not married to your Master, and\nI would advise you now to take no less Terms. But, my dear Child, I\nam afraid of one Rock only, That Parson _Williams_, I wish he was out\nof the Way. A Woman never commits Folly but with such Sort of Men, as\nby many Hints in the Letters I collect him to be: but, consider my\ndear Child, you will hereafter have Opportunities sufficient to\nindulge yourself with Parson _Williams_, or any other you like. My\nAdvice therefore to you is, that you would avoid seeing him any more\ntill the Knot is tied. Remember the first Lesson I taught you, that a\nmarried Woman injures only her Husband, but a single Woman herself. I\nam in hopes of seeing you a great Lady,\n\n _Your affectionate Mother_,\n\n HENRIETTA MARIA, _&c._\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe following Letter seems to have been written before _Shamela_\nreceived the last from her Mother.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER XII.\n\n\nSHAMELA ANDREWS _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\n _Dear Mamma_,\n\nI Little feared when I sent away my last that all my Hopes would be\nso soon frustrated; but I am certain you will blame Fortune and not\nme. To proceed then. About two Hours after I had left the Squire, he\nsent for me into the Parlour. _Pamela_, said he, and takes me gently\nby the hand, will you walk with me in the Garden; yes, Sir, says I,\nand pretended to tremble; but I hope your Honour will not be rude.\nIndeed, says he, you have nothing to fear from me, and I have\nsomething to tell you, which if it doth not please you, cannot\noffend. We walked out together, and he began thus, _Pamela_, will you\ntell me Truth? Doth the Resistance you make to my Attempts proceed\nfrom Vartue only, or have I not some Rival in thy dear Bosom who\nmight be more successful? Sir, says I, I do assure you I never had a\nthought of any Man in the World. How says he, not of Parson\n_Williams_! Parson _Williams_, says I, is the last Man upon Earth;\nand if I was a Dutchess, and your Honour was to make your Addresses\nto me, you would have no reason to be jealous of any Rival,\nespecially such a Fellow as Parson _Williams_. If ever I had a\nLiking, I am sure----but I am not worthy of you one Way, and no\nRiches should ever bribe me the other. My Dear, says he, you are\nworthy of every Thing, and suppose I should lay aside all\nConsiderations of Fortune, and disregard the Censure of the World,\nand marry you. O Sir, says I, I am sure you can have no such\nThoughts, you cannot demean your self so low. Upon my Soul, I am in\nearnest, says he,--O Pardon me, Sir, says I, you can\'t persuade me of\nthis. How Mistress, says he, in a violent Rage, do you give me the\nLie? Hussy, I have a great mind to box your saucy Ears, but I am\nresolved I will never put it in your power to affront me again, and\ntherefore I desire you to prepare your self for your Journey this\nInstant. You deserve no better Vehicle than a Cart; however, for once\nyou shall have a Chariot, and it shall be ready for you within this\nhalf Hour; and so he flung from me in a Fury.\n\n_What a foolish Thing it is for a Woman to dally too long with her\nLover\'s Desires; how many have owed their being old Maids to their\nholding out too long._\n\nMrs. _Jewkes_ came me to presently, and told me, I must make ready\nwith all the Expedition imaginable, for that my Master had ordered\nthe Chariot, and that if I was not prepared to go in it, I should be\nturned out of Doors, and left to find my way Home on Foot. This\nstartled me a little, yet I resolved, whether in the right or wrong,\nnot to submit nor ask Pardon: For that know you, Mamma, you never\ncould your self bring me to from my Childhood: Besides, I thought he\nwould be no more able to master his Passion for me now, than he had\nbeen hitherto; and if he sent two Horses away with me, I concluded he\nwould send four to fetch me back. So, truly, I resolved to brazen it\nout, and with all the Spirit I could muster up, I told Mrs. _Jewkes_\nI was vastly pleased with the News she brought me; that no one ever\nwent more readily than I should, from a Place where my Vartue had\nbeen in continual Danger. That as for my Master, he might easily get\nthose who were fit for his Purpose; but, for my Part, I preferred my\nVartue to all Rakes whatever----And for his Promises, and his Offers\nto me, I don\'t value them of a Fig--Not of a Fig, Mrs. _Jewkes_; and\nthen I snapt my Fingers.\n\nMrs. _Jewkes_ went in with me, and helped me to pack up my little\nAll, which was soon done; being no more than two Day-Caps, two\nNight-Caps, five Shifts, one Sham, a Hoop, a Quilted-Petticoat, two\nFlannel-Petticoats, two pair of Stockings, one odd one, a pair of\nlac\'d Shoes, a short flowered Apron, a lac\'d Neck-Handkerchief, one\nClog, and almost another, and some few Books: as, _A full Answer to a\nplain and true Account_, &c. _The Whole Duty of Man_, with only the\nDuty to one\'s Neighbour, torn out. The Third Volume of the\n_Atalantis_. _Venus in the Cloyster: Or, the Nun in her Smock_.\n_God\'s Dealings with Mr. Whitefield_. _Orfus and Eurydice_. Some\nSermon-Books; and two or three Plays, with their Titles, and Part of\nthe first Act torn off.\n\nSo as soon as we had put all this into a Bundle, the Chariot was\nready, and I took leave of all the Servants, and particularly Mrs.\n_Jewkes_, who pretended, I believe, to be more sorry to part with me\nthan she was; and then crying out with an Air of Indifference, my\nService to my Master, when he condescends to enquire after me, I\nflung my self into the Chariot, and bid _Robin_ drive on.\n\nWe had not gone far, before a Man on Horseback, riding full Speed,\novertook us, and coming up to the Side of the Chariot, threw a Letter\ninto the Window, and then departed without uttering a single\nSyllable.\n\nI immediately knew the Hand of my dear _Williams_, and was somewhat\nsurprised, tho\' I did not apprehend the Contents to be so terrible,\nas by the following exact Copy you will find them.\n\n\n_Parson_ WILLIAMS _to_ PAMELA.\n\n _Dear Mrs._ PAMELA,\n\nThat Disrespect for the Clergy, which I have formerly noted to you in\nthat Villain your Master, hath now broke forth in a manifest Fact. I\nwas proceeding to my Neighbour _Spruce\'s_ Church, where I purposed to\npreach a Funeral Sermon, on the Death of Mr. _John Gage_, the\nExciseman; when I was met by two Persons who are, it seems, Sheriffs\nOfficers, and arrested for the 150_l._ which your Master had lent me;\nand unless I can find Bail within these few Days, of which I see no\nlikelihood, I shall be carried to Goal. This accounts for my not\nhaving visited you these two Days; which you might assure yourself, I\nshould not have fail\'d, if the _Potestas_ had not been wanting. If\nyou can by any means prevail on your Master to release me, I beseech\nyou so to do, not scrupling any thing for Righteousness sake. I hear\nhe is just arrived in this Country, I have herewith sent him a\nLetter, of which I transmit you a Copy. So with Prayers for your\nSuccess, I Subscribe myself\n\n _Your affectionate Friend_,\n\n ARTHUR WILLIAMS.\n\n\n_Parson_ WILLIAMS _to_ SQUIRE BOOBY.\n\n _Honoured Sir_,\n\nI am justly surprized to feel so heavy a Weight of your Displeasure,\nwithout being conscious of the least Demerit towards so good and\ngenerous a Patron, as I have ever found you: For my own Part, I can\ntruly say,\n\n _Nil conscire sibi nullæ pallescere culpæ._\n\nAnd therefore, as this Proceeding is so contrary to your usual\nGoodness, which I have often experienced, and more especially in the\nLoan of this Money for which I am now arrested; I cannot avoid\nthinking some malicious Persons have insinuated false Suggestions\nagainst me; intending thereby, to eradicate those Seeds of Affection\nwhich I have hardly travailed to sowe in your Heart, and which\npromised to produce such excellent Fruit. If I have any ways offended\nyou, Sir, be graciously pleased to let me know it, and likewise to\npoint out to me, the Means whereby I may reinstate myself in your\nFavour: For next to him, whom the Great themselves must bow down\nbefore, I know none to whom I shall bend with more Lowliness than\nyour Honour. Permit me to subscribe myself,\n\n _Honoured Sir_,\n\n _Your most obedient, and most obliged_,\n\n _And most dutiful humble Servant_,\n\n ARTHUR WILLIAMS.\n\nThe Fate of poor Mr. _Williams_ shocked me more than my own: For, as\nthe _Beggar\'s Opera_ says, _Nothing moves one so much as a great Man\nin Distress._ And to see a Man of his Learning forced to submit so\nlow, to one whom I have often heard him say, he despises, is, I\nthink, a most affecting Circumstance. I write all this to you, Dear\nMamma, at the Inn where I lie this first Night, and as I shall send\nit immediately, by the Post, it will be in Town a little before\nme.----Don\'t let my coming away vex you: For, as my Master will be in\nTown in a few Days, I shall have an Opportunity of seeing him; and\nlet the worst come to the worst, I shall be sure of my Settlement at\nlast. Which is all, from\n\n _Your dutiful Daughter_,\n\n SHAMELA.\n\n_P. S._ Just as I was going to send this away a Letter is come from\nmy Master, desiring me to return, with a large Number of Promises.--I\nhave him now as sure as a Gun, as you will perceive by the Letter\nitself, which I have inclosed to you.\n\nThis Letter is unhappily lost, as well as the next which _Shamela_\nwrote, and which contained an Account of all the Proceedings previous\nto her Marriage. The only remaining one which I could preserve, seems\nto have been written about a Week after the Ceremony was perform\'d,\nand is as follows:\n\n\nSHAMELA BOOBY _to_ HENRIETTA MARIA HONORA ANDREWS.\n\n _Madam_,\n\nIn my last I left off at our sitting down to Supper on our Wedding\nNight,[1] where I behaved with as much Bashfulness as the purest\nVirgin in the World could have done. The most difficult Task for me\nwas to blush; however, by holding my Breath, and Squeezing my Cheeks\nwith my Handkerchief, I did pretty well. My Husband was extreamly\neager and impatient to have Supper removed, after which he gave me\nleave to retire into my Closet for a Quarter of an Hour, which was\nvery agreeable to me; for I employed that time in writing to Mr.\n_Williams_, who, as I informed you in my last, is released, and\npresented to the Living, upon the Death of the last Parson. Well, at\nlast I went to Bed, and my Husband soon leap\'d in after me; where, I\nshall only assure you, I acted my Part in such a manner, that no\nBridegroom was ever better Satisfied with his Bride\'s Virginity. And\nto confess the Truth, I might have been well enough Satisfied too, if\nI had never been acquainted with Parson _Williams_.\n\n_O what regard Men who marry Widows should have to the Qualifications\nof their former Husbands._\n\nWe did not rise the next Morning till eleven, and then we sat down to\nBreakfast; I eat two Slices of Bread and Butter, and drank three\nDishes of Tea, with a good deal of Sugar, and we both look\'d very\nsilly. After Breakfast we drest our selves, he in a blue Camblet\nCoat, very richly lac\'d, and Breeches of the same; with a Paduafoy\nWaistcoat, laced with Silver; and I, in one of my Mistress\'s Gowns. I\nwill have finer when I come to Town. We then took a Walk in the\nGarden, and he kissed me several times, and made me a Present of 100\nGuineas, which I gave away before Night to the Servants, twenty to\none, and ten to another, and so on.\n\nWe eat a very hearty Dinner, and about eight in the Evening went to\nBed again. He is prodigiously fond of me; but I don\'t like him half\nso well as my dear _Williams_. The next Morning we rose earlier, and\nI asked him for another hundred Guineas, and he gave them me. I sent\nfifty to Parson _Williams_, and the rest I gave away, two Guineas to\na Beggar, and three to a Man riding along the Road, and the rest to\nother People. I long to be in _London_ that I may have an Opportunity\nof laying some out, as well as giving away. I believe I shall buy\nevery thing I see. What signifies having Money if one doth not spend\nit.\n\nThe next Day, as soon as I was up, I asked him for another Hundred.\nWhy, my Dear, says he, I don\'t grudge you any thing, but how was it\npossible for you to lay out the other two Hundred here. La! Sir, says\nI, I hope I am not obliged to give you an Account of every Shilling;\nTroth, that will be being your Servant still. I assure you, I married\nyou with no such view, besides did not you tell me I should be\nMistress of your Estate? And I will be too. For tho\' I brought no\nFortune, I am as much your Wife as if I had brought a Million--yes,\nbut, my Dear, says he, if you had brought a Million, you would spend\nit all at this rate; besides, what will your Expences be in _London_,\nif they are so great here. Truly, says I, Sir, I shall live like\nother Ladies of my Fashion; and if you think, because I was a\nServant, that I shall be contented to be governed as you please, I\nwill shew you, you are mistaken. If you had not cared to marry me,\nyou might have let it alone. I did not ask you, nor I did not court\nyou. Madam, says he, I don\'t value a hundred Guineas to oblige you;\nbut this is a Spirit which I did not expect in you, nor did I ever\nsee any Symptoms of it before. O but Times are altered now, I am your\nLady, Sir; yes to my Sorrow, says he, I am afraid--and I am afraid to\nmy Sorrow too: For if you begin to use me in this manner already, I\nreckon you will beat me before a Month\'s at an end. I am sure if you\ndid, it would injure me less than this barbarous Treatment; upon\nwhich I burst into Tears, and pretended to fall into a Fit. This\nfrighted him out of his wits, and he called up the Servants. Mrs.\n_Jewkes_ immediately came in, and she and another of the Maids fell\nheartily to rubbing my Temples, and holding Smelling-Bottles to my\nNose. Mrs. _Jewkes_ told him she fear\'d I should never recover, upon\nwhich he began to beat his Breasts, and cried out, O my dearest\nAngel, Curse on my passionate Temper, I have destroy\'d her, I have\ndestroy\'d her!----would she had spent my whole Estate rather than\nthis had happened. Speak to me, my Love, I will melt myself into Gold\nfor thy Pleasure. At last having pretty well tired my self with\ncounterfeiting, and imagining I had continu\'d long enough for my\npurpose in the sham Fit, I began to move my Eyes, to loosen my Teeth,\nand to open my Hands, which Mr. _Booby_ no sooner perceived than he\nembraced and kissed me with the eagerest Extacy, asked my Pardon on\nhis Knees for what I had suffered through his Folly and Perverseness,\nand without more Questions fetched me the Money. I fancy I have\neffectually prevented any farther Refusals or Inquiry into my\nExpences. It would be hard indeed, that a Woman who marries a Man\nonly for his Money, should be debarred from spending it.\n\nWell, after all things were quiet, we sat down to Breakfast, yet I\nresolved not to smile once, nor to say one good-natured, or\ngood-humoured Word on any Account.\n\n_Nothing can be more prudent in a Wife, than a sullen Backwardness to\nReconciliation; it makes a Husband fearful of offending by the Length\nof his Punishment._\n\nWhen we were drest, the Coach was by my Desire ordered for an Airing,\nwhich we took in it. A long Silence prevailed on both Sides, tho\' he\nconstantly squeezed my Hand, and kissed me, and used other\nFamiliarities, which I peevishly permitted. At last, I opened my\nMouth first.--And so, says I, you are sorry you are married;--Pray,\nmy Dear, says he, forget what I said in a Passion. Passion, says I,\nis apter to discover our Thoughts than to teach us to counterfeit.\nWell, says he, whether you will believe me or no, I solemnly vow, I\nwould not change thee for the richest Woman in the Universe. No, I\nwarrant you, says I; and yet you could refuse me a nasty hundred\nPound. At these very Words, I saw Mr. _Williams_ riding as fast as he\ncould across a Field; and I looked out, and saw a Lease of Greyhounds\ncoursing a Hare, which they presently killed, and I saw him alight,\nand take it from them.\n\nMy Husband ordered _Robin_ to drive towards him, and looked horribly\nout of humour, which I presently imputed to Jealousy. So I began with\nhim first; for that is the wisest way. La, Sir, says I; what makes\nyou look so Angry and Grim? Doth the Sight of Mr. _Williams_ give you\nall this Uneasiness? I am sure, I would never have married a Woman of\nwhom I had so bad an Opinion, that I must be uneasy at every Fellow\nshe looks at. My Dear, answer\'d he, you injure me extremely, you was\nnot in my Thoughts, nor, indeed, could be, while they were covered by\nso morose a Countenance; I am justly angry with that Parson, whose\nFamily hath been raised from the Dunghill by ours; and who hath\nreceived from me twenty Kindnesses, and yet is not contented to\ndestroy the Game in all other Places, which I freely give him leave\nto do; but hath the Impudence to pursue a few Hares, which I am\ndesirous to preserve, round about this little Coppice. Look, my Dear,\npray look, says he; I believe he is going to turn Higler. To Confess\nthe Truth, he had no less than three ty\'d up behind his Horse, and a\nfourth he held in his Hand.\n\nPshaw, says I, I wish all the Hares in the Country were d----d (the\nParson himself chid me afterwards for using the Word, tho\' it was in\nhis Service.) Here\'s a Fuss, indeed, about a nasty little pitiful\nCreature, that is not half so useful as a Cat. You shall not persuade\nme, that a Man of your Understanding, would quarrel with a Clergyman\nfor such a Trifle. No, no, I am the Hare, for whom poor Parson\n_Williams_ is persecuted; and Jealousy is the Motive. If you had\nmarried one of your Quality Ladies, she would have had Lovers by\ndozens, she would so; but because you have taken a Servant-Maid,\nforsooth! you are jealous if she but looks (and then I began to\nWater) at a poor P----a----a----rson in his Pu----u----u----lpit, and\nthen out burst a Flood of Tears.\n\nMy Dear, said he, for Heaven\'s sake dry your Eyes, and don\'t let him\nbe a Witness of your Tears, which I should be sorry to think might be\nimputed to my Unkindness; I have already given you Some Proofs that I\nam not jealous of this Parson; I will now give you a very strong one:\nFor I will mount my Horse, and you shall take _Williams_ into the\nCoach. You may be sure, this Motion pleased me, yet I pretended to\nmake as light of it as possible, and told him, I was sorry his\nBehaviour had made some such glaring Instance, necessary to the\nperfect clearing my Character.\n\nHe soon came up to Mr. _Williams_, who had attempted to ride off, but\nwas prevented by one of our Horsemen, whom my Husband sent to stop\nhim. When we met, my Husband asked him how he did with a very\ngood-humoured Air, and told him he perceived he had found good Sport\nthat Morning. He answered pretty moderate, Sir; for that he had found\nthe three Hares tied on to the Saddle dead in a Ditch (winking on me\nat the same time), and added he was sorry there was such a Rot among\nthem.\n\nWell, says Mr. _Booby_, if you please, Mr. _Williams_, you shall come\nin and ride with my Wife. For my own part, I will mount on Horseback;\nfor it is fine Weather, and besides, it doth not become me to loll in\na Chariot, whilst a Clergyman rides on Horseback.\n\nAt which Words, Mr. _Booby_ leap\'d out, and Mr. _Williams_ leap\'d in,\nin an Instant, telling my Husband as he mounted, he was glad to see\nsuch a Reformation, and that if he continued his Respect to the\nClergy, he might assure himself of Blessings from above.\n\nIt was now that the Airing began to grow pleasant to me. Mr.\n_Williams_, who never had but one Fault, _viz._ that he generally\nsmells of Tobacco, was now perfectly sweet; for he had for two Days\ntogether enjoined himself as a Penance, not to smoke till he had\nkissed my Lips. I will loosen you from that Obligation, says I, and\nobserving my Husband looking another way, I gave him a charming Kiss,\nand then he asked me Questions concerning my Wedding-night; this\nactually made me blush: I vow I did not think, it had been in him.\n\nAs he went along, he began to discourse very learnedly, and told me\nthe Flesh and the Spirit were too distinct Matters, which had not the\nleast relation to each other. That all immaterial Substances (those\nwere his very Words) such as Love, Desire, and so forth, were guided\nby the Spirit: But fine Houses, large Estates, Coaches, and dainty\nEntertainments were the Product of the Flesh. Therefore, says he, my\nDear, you have two Husbands, one the Object of your Love, and to\nsatisfy your Desire; the other the Object of your Necessity, and to\nfurnish you with those other Conveniences. (I am sure I remember\nevery Word, for he repeated it three Times; O he is very good\nwhenever I desire him to repeat a thing to me three times he always\ndoth it!) as then the Spirit is preferable, to the Flesh, so am I\npreferable to your other Husband, to whom I am antecedent in Time\nlikewise. I say these things, my Dear, (said he) to satisfie your\nConscience. A Fig, for my Conscience, said I, when shall I meet you\nagain in the Garden?\n\nMy Husband now rode up to the Chariot, and asked us how we did--I\nhate the Sight of him. Mr. _Williams_ answered very well, at your\nService. They then talked of the Weather, and other things, I wished\nhim gone again, every Minute; but all in vain I had no more\nOpportunity of conversing with Mr. _Williams_.\n\nWell; at Dinner Mr. _Booby_ was very civil to Mr. _Williams_, and\ntold him he was sorry for what had happened, and would make him\nsufficient Amends, if in his power, and desired him to accept of a\nNote for fifty Pounds; which he was so _good_ to receive,\nnotwithstanding all that had past; and told Mr. _Booby_, he hop\'d he\nwould be forgiven, and that he would pray for him.\n\nWe make a charming Fool of him, i\'fackins; Times are finely altered,\nI have entirely got the better of him, and am resolved never to give\nhim his Humour.\n\n_O how foolish it is in a Woman, who hath once got the Reins into her\nown Hand, ever to quit them again._\n\nAfter Dinner Mr. _Williams_ drank the Church _et cætera_; and smiled\non me; when my Husband\'s Turn came, he drank _et cætera_ and the\nChurch; for which he was very severely rebuked by Mr. _Williams_; it\nbeing a high Crime, it seems, to name any thing before the Church. I\ndo not know what _Et cetera_ is, but I believe it is something\nconcerning chusing Pallament Men; for I asked if it was not a Health\nto Mr. _Booby\'s_ Borough, and Mr. _Williams_ with a hearty Laugh\nanswered, Yes, Yes, it is his Borough we mean.\n\nI slipt out as soon as I could, hoping Mr. _Williams_ would finish\nthe Squire, as I have heard him say he could easily do, and come to\nme; but it happened quite otherwise, for in about half an Hour,\n_Booby_ came to me, and told me he had left Mr. _Williams_, the Mayor\nof his Borough, and two or three Aldermen heartily at it, and asked\nme if I would go hear _Williams_ sing a Catch, which, added he, he\ndoth to a Miracle.\n\nEvery Opportunity of seeing my dear _Williams_, was agreeable to me,\nwhich indeed I scarce had at this time; for when we returned, the\nwhole Corporation were got together, and the Room was in a Cloud of\nTobacco; Parson _Williams_ was at the upper End of the Table, and he\nhath pure round cherry Cheeks, and his Face look\'d all the World to\nnothing like the Sun in a Fog. If the Sun had a Pipe in his Mouth,\nthere would be no Difference.\n\nI began now to grow uneasy, apprehending I should have no more of Mr.\n_Williams\'s_ Company that Evening, and not at all caring for my\nHusband, I advised him to sit down and drink for his Country with the\nrest of the Company; but he refused, and desired me to give him some\nTea; swearing nothing made him so sick, as to hear a Parcel of\nScoundrels, roaring forth the Principles of honest Men over their\nCups, when, says he, I know most of them are such empty Blockheads,\nthat they don\'t know their right Hand from their left; and that\nFellow there, who hath talked so much of _Shipping_, at the left Side\nof the Parson, in whom they all place a Confidence, if I don\'t take\ncare, will sell them to my Adversary.\n\nI don\'t know why I mention this Stuff to you; for I am sure I know\nnothing about _Pollitricks_, more than Parson _Williams_ tells me;\nwho says that the Court-side are in the right on\'t, and that every\nChristian ought to be on the same with the Bishops.\n\nWhen we had finished our Tea, we walked in the Garden till it was\ndark, and then my Husband proposed, instead of returning to the\nCompany, (which I desired, that I might see Parson _Williams_ again,)\nto sup in another Room by our selves, which, for fear of making him\njealous, and considering too, that Parson _Williams_ would be pretty\nfar gone, I was obliged to consent to.\n\n_O! what a devilish thing it is, for a Woman to be obliged to go to\nbed to a spindle-shanked young Squire, she doth not like, when there\nis a jolly Parson in the same House she is fond of._\n\nIn the Morning I grew very peevish, and in the Dumps, notwithstanding\nall he could say or do to please me. I exclaimed against the\nPriviledge of Husbands, and vowed I would not be pulled and tumbled\nabout. At last he hit on the only Method, which could have brought me\ninto Humour, and proposed to me a Journey to _London_, within a few\nDays. This you may easily guess pleased me; for besides the Desire\nwhich I have of shewing my self forth, of buying fine Cloaths,\nJewels, Coaches, Houses, and ten thousand other fine things, Parson\n_Williams_ is, it seems, going thither too, to be _instuted_.\n\n_O! what a charming Journey I shall have; for I hope to keep the dear\nMan in the Chariot with me all the way; and that foolish Booby (for\nthat is the Name Mr._ Williams _hath set him) will ride on\nHorseback._\n\nSo as I shall have an Opportunity of seeing you so shortly, I think I\nwill mention no more Matters to you now. O I had like to have forgot\none very material thing; which is that it will look horribly, for a\nLady of my Quality and Fashion, to own such a Woman as you for my\nMother. Therefore we must meet in private only, and if you will never\nclaim me, nor mention me to any one, I will always allow you what is\nvery handsome. Parson _Williams_ hath greatly advised me in this; and\nsays, he thinks I should do very well to lay out twenty Pounds, and\nset you up in a little Chandler\'s Shop: but you must remember all my\nFavours to you will depend on your Secrecy; for I am positively\nresolved, I will not be known to be your Daughter; and if you tell\nany one so, I shall deny it with all my Might, which Parson\n_Williams_ says, I may do with a safe Conscience, being now a married\nWoman. So I rest\n\n _Your humble Servant_,\n\n SHAMELA.\n\n_P. S._ The strangest Fancy hath enter\'d into my Booby\'s Head, that\ncan be imagined. He is resolved to have a Book made about him and me;\nhe proposed it to Mr. _Williams_, and offered him a Reward for his\nPains; but he says he never writ any thing of that kind, but will\nrecommend my Husband, when he comes to Town, to a Parson _who does\nthat Sort of Business for Folks_, one who can make my Husband, and\nme, and Parson _Williams_, to be all great People; for he _can make\nblack white_, it seems. Well, but they say my Name is to be altered,\nMr. _Williams_, says the first Syllabub hath too comical a Sound, so\nit is to be changed into _Pamela_; I own I can\'t imagine what can be\nsaid; for to be sure I shan\'t confess any of my Secrets to them, and\nso I whispered Parson _Williams_ about that, who answered me, I need\nnot give my self any Trouble; for the Gentleman _who writes Lives_,\nnever asked more than a few Names of his Customers, and that he made\nall the rest out of his own Head; you mistake, Child, said he, if you\napprehend any Truths are to be delivered. So far on the contrary, if\nyou had not been acquainted with the Name, you would not have known\nit to be your own History. I have seen a _Piece of his Performance_,\nwhere the Person, whose Life was written, could he have risen from\nthe Dead again, would not have even suspected he had been aimed at,\nunless by the Title of the Book, which was superscribed with his\nName. Well, all these Matters are strange to me, yet I can\'t help\nlaughing, to think I shall see my self in a printed Book.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSo much for Mrs. _Shamela_, or _Pamela_, which I have taken Pains to\ntranscribe from the Originals, sent down by her Mother in a Rage, at\nthe Proposal in her last Letter. The Originals themselves are in my\nhands, and shall be communicated to you, if you think proper to make\nthem publick; and certainly they will have their Use. The Character\nof _Shamela_, will make young Gentlemen wary how they take the most\nfatal Step both to themselves and Families, by youthful, hasty and\nimproper Matches; indeed, they may assure themselves, that all Such\nProspects of Happiness are vain and delusive, and that they sacrifice\nall the solid Comforts of their Lives, to a very transient\nSatisfaction of a Passion, which how hot so ever it be, will be soon\ncooled; and when cooled, will afford them nothing but Repentance.\n\nCan any thing be more miserable, than to be despised by the whole\nWorld, and that must certainly be the Consequence; to be despised by\nthe Person obliged, which it is more than probable will be the\nConsequence, and of which, we see an Instance in _Shamela_; and\nlastly to despise one\'s self, which must be the Result of any\nReflection on so weak and unworthy a Choice.\n\nAs to the Character of Parson _Williams_, I am sorry it is a true\none. Indeed those who do not know him, will hardly believe it so; but\nwhat Scandal doth it throw on the Order to have one bad Member,\nunless they endeavour to screen and protect him? In him you see a\nPicture of almost every Vice exposed in nauseous and odious Colours;\nand if a Clergyman would ask me by what Pattern he should form\nhimself, I would say, Be the reverse of _Williams_: So far therefore\nhe may be of use to the Clergy themselves, and though God forbid\nthere should be many _Williams\'s_ amongst them, you and I are too\nhonest to pretend, that the Body wants no Reformation.\n\nTo say the Truth, I think no greater Instance of the contrary can be\ngiven than that which appears in your Letter. The confederating to\ncry up a nonsensical ridiculous Book, (I believe the most extensively\nso of any ever yet published,) and to be so weak and so wicked as to\npretend to make it a Matter of Religion; whereas so far from having\nany moral Tendency, the Book is by no means innocent: For,\n\n_First_, There are many lascivious Images in it, very improper to be\nlaid before the Youth of either Sex.\n\n_2dly_, Young Gentlemen are here taught, that to marry their Mother\'s\nChambermaids, and to indulge the Passion of Lust, at the Expence of\nReason and Common Sense, is an Act of Religion, Virtue, and Honour;\nand, indeed the surest Road to Happiness.\n\n_3dly_, All Chambermaids are strictly enjoyned to look out after\ntheir Masters; they are taught to use little Arts to that purpose:\nAnd lastly, are countenanced in Impertinence to their Superiors, and\nin betraying the Secrets of Families.\n\n_4thly_, In the Character of Mrs. _Jewkes_ Vice is rewarded; whence\nevery Housekeeper may learn the Usefulness of pimping and bawding for\nher Master.\n\n_5thly_, In Parson _Williams_, who is represented as a faultless\nCharacter, we see a busy Fellow, intermeddling with the private\nAffairs of his Patron, whom he is very ungratefully forward to expose\nand condemn on every Occasion.\n\nMany more Objections might, if I had Time or Inclination, be made to\nthis Book; but I apprehend, what hath been said is sufficient to\npersuade you of the use which may arise from publishing an Antidote\nto this Poison. I have therefore sent you the Copies of these Papers,\nand if you have Leisure to communicate them to the Press, I will\ntransmit you the Originals, tho\' I assure you, the Copies are exact.\n\nI shall only add, that there is not the least Foundation for any\nthing which is said of Lady _Davers_, or any of the other Ladies; all\nthat is merely to be imputed to the Invention of the Biographer. I\nhave particularly enquired after Lady _Davers_, and dont hear Mr.\n_Booby_ hath such a Relation, or that there is indeed any such Person\nexisting. I am,\n\n _Dear Sir_,\n\n _Most faithfully and respectfully_,\n\n _Your humble Servant_,\n\n J. OLIVER.\n\n\n_Parson_ TICKLETEXT _to Parson_ OLIVER.\n\n _Dear SIR_,\n\nI Have read over the History of _Shamela_, as it appears in those\nauthentick Copies you favour\'d me with, and am very much ashamed of\nthe Character, which I was hastily prevailed on to give that Book. I\nam equally angry with the pert Jade herself, and with the Author of\nher Life: For I scarce know yet to whom I chiefly owe an Imposition,\nwhich hath been so general, that if Numbers could defend me from\nShame, I should have no Reason to apprehend it.\n\nAs I have your implied Leave to publish, what you so kindly sent me,\nI shall not wait for the Originals, as you assure me the Copies are\nexact, and as I am really impatient to do what I think a serviceable\nAct of Justice to the World.\n\nFinding by the End of her last Letter, that the little Hussy was in\nTown, I made it pretty much my Business to enquire after her, but\nwith no effect hitherto: As soon as I succeed in this Enquiry, you\nshall hear what Discoveries I can learn. You will pardon the\nShortness of this Letter, as you shall be troubled with a much longer\nvery soon: And believe me,\n\n _Dear Sir_,\n\n _Your most faithful Servant_,\n\n THO. TICKLETEXT.\n\n_P. S._ Since I writ, I have a certain Account that Mr. _Booby_ hath\ncaught his Wife in bed with _Williams_; hath turned her off, and is\nprosecuting him in the spiritual Court.\n\n _FINIS_'"