Pamela, Or Virtue Rewarded

III. Then she to whom I pris'ner was,

Said to me, tauntingly,

Now cheer your heart, and sing a song

And tune your mind to joy.

IV. Alas! said I, how can I frame

My heavy heart to sing,

Or tune my mind, while thus enthrall'd

By such a wicked thing!

V. But yet, if from my innocence

I, ev'n in thought, should slide,

Then let my fingers quite forget

The sweet spinnet to guide.

VI. And let my tongue within my mouth

Be lock'd for ever fast,

If I rejoice, before I see

My full deliv'rance past.

VII. And thou, Almighty, recompense

The evils I endure,

From those who seek my sad disgrace,

So causeless, to procure.

VIII. Remember, Lord, this Mrs. Jewkes,

When, with a mighty sound,

She cries, Down with her chastity,

Down to the very ground!

IX. Ev'n so shalt thou, O wicked one!

At length to shame be brought,

And happy shall all those be call'd

That my deliv'rance wrought.

X. Yea, blessed shall the man be called

That shames thee of thy evil,

And saves me from thy vile attempts,

And thee, too, from the D---

l. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday.

I write now with a little more liking, though less opportunity, because

Mr. Williams has got a large parcel of my papers, safe in his hands,

to send them to you, as he has opportunity; so I am not quite uselessly

employed: and I am delivered besides, from the fear of their being

found, if I should be searched, or discovered. I have been permitted to

take an airing, five or six miles, with Mrs. Jewkes: But, though I know

not the reason, she watches me more closely than ever; so that we

have discontinued, by consent, for these three days, the sunflower

correspondence. The poor cook-maid has had a bad mischance; for she has been hurt much

by a bull in the pasture, by the side of the garden, not far from the

back-door. Now this pasture I am to cross, which is about half a mile,

and then is a common, and near that a private horse-road, where I hope

to find an opportunity for escaping, as soon as Mr. Williams can get me

a horse, and has made all ready for me: for he has got me the key, which

he put under the mould, just by the door, as he found an opportunity to

hint to me. He just now has signified, that the gentleman is dead, whose living he

has had hope of; and he came pretendedly to tell Mrs. Jewkes of it; and

so could speak this to her before me. She wished him joy. See what the

world is! One man's death is another man's joy. Thus we thrust out

one another!--My hard case makes me serious. He found means to slide

a letter into my hands, and is gone away: He looked at me with such

respect and solemness at parting, that Mrs. Jewkes said, Why, madam,

I believe our young parson is half in love with you.--Ah! Mrs. Jewkes,

said I, he knows better. Said she, (I believe to sound me,) Why, I can't

see you can either of you do better; and I have lately been so touched

for you, seeing how heavily you apprehend dishonour from my master, that

I think it is pity you should not have Mr. Williams. I knew this must be a fetch of hers; because, instead of being troubled

for me, as she pretended, she watched me closer, and him too: and so I

said, There is not the man living that I desire to marry. If I can

but keep myself honest, it is all my desire: And to be a comfort and

assistance to my poor parents, if it should be my happy lot to be so, is

the very top of my ambition. Well, but, said she, I have been thinking

very seriously, that Mr. Williams would make you a good husband; and as

he will owe all his fortune to my master, he will be very glad, to be

sure, to be obliged to him for a wife of his choosing: especially, said

she, such a pretty one, and one so ingenious, and genteelly educated. This gave me a doubt, whether she knew of my master's intimation of that

sort formerly; and I asked her, if she had reason to surmise that that

was in view? No, she said; it was only her own thought; but it was very

likely that my master had either that in view, or something better for

me. But, if I approved of it, she would propose such a thing to

her master directly; and gave a detestable hint, that I might take

resolutions upon it, of bringing such an affair to effect. I told her I

abhorred her vile insinuation; and as to Mr. Williams, I thought him a

civil good sort of man; but, as on one side, he was above me; so, on

the other, I said of all things I did not love a parson. So, finding

she could make nothing of me, she quitted the subject. I will open his

letter by and by, and give you the contents of it; for she is up and

down so much, that I am afraid of her surprising me. Well, I see Providence has not abandoned me: I shall be under no

necessity to make advances to Mr. Williams, if I was (as I am sure I am

not) disposed to it. This is his letter: 'I know not how to express myself, lest I should appear to you to have

a selfish view in the service I would do you. But I really know but one

effectual and honourable way to disengage yourself from the dangerous

situation you are in. It is that of marriage with some person that you

could make happy in your approbation. As for my own part, it would be,

as things stand, my apparent ruin; and, worse still, I should involve

you in misery too. But, yet, so great is my veneration for you, and

so entire my reliance on Providence, upon so just an occasion, that I

should think myself but too happy, if I might be accepted. I would, in

this case, forego all my expectations, and be your conductor to some

safe distance. But why do I say, in this case? That I will do, whether

you think fit to reward me so eminently or not: And I will, the moment I

hear of Mr. B----'s setting out, (and I think now I have settled a very

good method of intelligence of all his motions,) get a horse ready,

and myself to conduct you. I refer myself wholly to your goodness and

direction; and am, with the highest respect, 'Your most faithful humble servant.' 'Don't think this a sudden resolution. I always admired your

hear-say character; and the moment I saw you, wished to serve so much

excellence.' What shall I say, my dear father and mother, to this unexpected

declaration? I want, now, more than ever, your blessing and direction.

But, after all, I have no mind to marry; I had rather live with you. But

yet, I would marry a man who begs from door to door, and has no home nor

being, rather than endanger my honesty. Yet I cannot, methinks, hear of

being a wife.--After a thousand different thoughts, I wrote as follows: