Shamela | Page 5

Town, I believe I can
procure her a good House, and fit for the Business; so I am,
Your affectionate Mother,
Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews.
LETTER IV.
Shamela Andrews to Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews.

Marry come up, good Madam, the Mother had never looked into the
Oven for her Daughter, if she had not been there herself. I shall never
have done if you upbraid me with having had a small One by Arthur
Williams, when you yourself but I say no more. O! What fine Times
when the Kettle calls the Pot. Let me do what I will, I say my Prayers
as often as another, and I read in good Books, as often as I have Leisure;
and Parson William says, that will make amends. So no more, but I rest
Your afflicted Daughter,
S .
LETTER V.
Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews to Shamela Andrews.
Dear Child,
Why will you give such way to your Passion? How could you imagine
I should be such a Simpleton, as to upbraid thee with being thy
Mother's own Daughter! When I advised you not to be guilty of Folly, I
meant no more than that you should take care to be well paid
before-hand, and not trust to Promises, which a Man seldom keeps,
after he hath had his wicked Will. And seeing you have a rich Fool to
deal with, your not making a good Market will be the more inexcusable;
indeed, with such Gentlemen as Parson Williams, there is more to be
said; for they have nothing to give, and are commonly otherwise the
best Sort of Men. I am glad to hear you read good Books, pray continue
so to do. I have inclosed you one of Mr. Whitefield's Sermons, and also
the Dealings with him, and am
Your affectionate Mother,
Henrietta Maria, &c.
LETTER VI.
Shamela Andrews to Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews.

O madam, I have strange Things to tell you! As I was reading in that
charming Book about the Dealings, in comes my Master to be sure he
is a precious One. Pamela, says he, what Book is that, I warrant you
Rochester's Poems. No, forsooth, says I, as pertly as I could; why how
now Saucy Chops, Boldface, says he Mighty pretty Words, says I, pert
again. Yes (says he) you are are a d d, impudent, stinking, cursed,
confounded Jade, and I have a great Mind to kick your A . You, kiss
says I. A-gad, says he, and so I will; with that he caught me in his Arms,
and kissed me till he made my Face all over Fire. Now this served
purely you know, to put upon the Fool for Anger. O! What precious
Fools Men are! And so I flung from him in a mighty Rage, and
pretended as how I would go out at the Door; but when I came to the
End of the Room, I stood still, and my Master cryed out, Hussy, Slut,
Sauce-box, Boldface, come hither Yes to be sure, says I; why don't you
come, says he; what should I come for says I; if you don't come to me,
I'll come to you, says he; I shan't come to you I assure you, says I.
Upon which he run up, caught me in his Arms, and flung me upon a
Chair, and began to offer to touch my Under-Petticoat. Sir, says I, you
had better not offer to be rude; well, says he, no more I won't then; and
away he went out of the Room. I was so mad to be sure I could have
cry'd.
Oh what a prodigious Vexation it is to a Woman to be made a Fool of.
Mrs. Jervis who had been without, harkening, now came to me. She
burst into a violent Laugh the Moment she came in. Well, says she, as
soon as she could speak, I have Reason to bless myself that I am an Old
Woman. Ah Child! if you had known the Jolly Blades of my Age, you
would not have been left in the lurch in this manner. Dear Mrs. Jervis,
says I, don't laugh at one; and to be sure I was a little angry with her.
Come, says she, my dear Honey-suckle, I have one Game to play for
you; he shall see you in Bed; he shall, my little Rose-bud, he shall see
those pretty, little, white, round, panting and offer'd to pull off my
Handkerchief. Fie, Mrs. Jervis, says I, you make me blush, and upon
my Fackins, I believe she did: She went on thus. I know the Squire
likes you, and notwithstanding the Aukwardness of his Proceeding, I
am convinced hath some hot Blood in his Veins, which will not let him

rest, 'till he hath communicated