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  The History of Pamela I was acquainted with long before I received it from you, from my Neighbourhood to the Scene of Action. Indeed I was in hopes that young Woman would have contented herself with the Good-fortune she hath attained; and rather suffered her little Arts to have been forgotten than have revived their Remembrance, and endeavoured by perverting and misrepresenting Facts to be thought to deserve what she now enjoys: for though we do not imagine her the Author of the Narrative itself, yet we must suppose the Instructions were given by her, as well as the Reward, to the Composer. Who that is, though you so earnestly require of me, I shall leave you to guess from that Ciceronian Eloquence, with which the Work abounds; and that excellent Knack of making every Character amiable, which he lays his hands on.

  But before I send you some Papers relating to this Matter, which will set Pamela and some others in a very different Light, than that in which they appear in the printed Book, I must beg leave to make some few Remarks on the Book itself, and its Tendency, (admitting it to be a true Relation,) towards improving Morality, or doing any good, either to the present Age, or Posterity: which when I have done, I shall, I flatter myself, stand excused from delivering it, either into the hands of my Daughter, or my Servant-Maid.

  The Instruction which it conveys to Servant-Maids, is, I think, very plainly this, To look out for their Masters as sharp as they can. The Consequences of which will be, besides Neglect of their Business, and the using all manner of Means to come at Ornaments of their Persons, that if the Master is not a Fool, they will be debauched by him; and if he is a Fool, they will marry him. Neither of which, I apprehend, my good Friend, we desire should be the Case of our Sons.

  And notwithstanding our Author’s Professions of Modesty, which in my Youth I have heard at the Beginning of an Epilogue, I cannot agree that my Daughter should entertain herself with some of his Pictures; which I do not expect to be contemplated without Emotion, unless by one of my Age and Temper, who can see the Girl lie on her Back, with one Arm round Mrs. Jewkes and the other round the Squire, naked in Bed, with his Hand on her Breasts, &c. with as much Indifference as I read any other Page in the whole Novel. But surely this, and some other Descriptions, will not be put into the hands of his Daughter by any wise Man, though I believe it will be difficult for him to keep them from her; especially if the Clergy in Town have cried and preached it up as you say.

  But, my Friend, the whole Narrative is such a Misrepresentation of Facts, such a Perversion of Truth, as you will, I am perswaded, agree, as soon as you have perused the Papers I now inclose to you, that I hope you or some other well-disposed Person, will communicate these Papers to the Publick, that this little Jade may not impose on the World, as she hath on her Master.

  The true name of this Wench was Shamela, and not Pamela, as she stiles herself. Her Father had in his Youth the Misfortune to appear in no good Light at the Old-Bailey; he afterwards served in the Capacity of a Drummer in one of the Scotch Regiments in the Dutch Service; where being drummed out, he came over to England, and turned Informer against several Persons on the late Gin-Act; and becoming acquainted with an Hostler at an Inn, where a Scotch Gentleman’s Horses stood, he hath at last by his Interest obtain’d a pretty snug Place in the Custom-house. Her Mother sold Oranges in the Play-House; and whether she was married to her Father or no, I never could learn.

  After this short Introduction, the rest of her History will appear in the following Letters, which I assure you are authentick.

  LETTER I. Shamela Andrews to Mrs. Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews at her Lodgings at the Fan and Pepper-Box in Drury-Lane.

  Dear Mamma,

  This comes to acquaint you, that I shall set out in the Waggon on Monday, desiring you to commodate me with a Ludgin, as near you as possible, in Coulstin’s-Court, or Wild-Street, or somewhere thereabouts; pray let it be handsome, and not above two Stories high: For Parson Williams hath promised to visit me when he comes to Town, and I have got a good many fine Cloaths of the Old Put my Mistress’s, who died a wil ago; and I beleve Mrs. Jervis will come along with me, for she says she would like to keep a House somewhere about Short’s-Gardens, or towards Queen-Street; and if there was convenience for a Bannio, she should like it the better; but that she will settle herself when she comes to Town. —— O! How I long to be in the Balconey at the Old House —— so no more at present from

  Your affectionate Daughter,

  Shamela.

  LETTER II. Shamela Andrews to Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews.

  Dear Mamma,

  O what News, since I writ my last! the young Squire hath been here, and as sure as a Gun he hath taken a Fancy to me; Pamela, says he, (for so I am called here) you was a great Favourite of your late Mistress’s; yes, an’t please your Honour; says I; and I believe you deserved it, says he; thank your Honour for your good Opinion, says I; and then he took me by the Hand, and I pretended to be shy: Laud, says I, Sir, I hope you don’t intend to be rude; no, says he, my Dear, and then he kissed me, ‘till he took away my breath —— and I pretended to be Angry, and to get away, and then he kissed me again, and breathed very short, and looked very silly; and by Ill-Luck Mrs. Jervis came in, and had like to have spoiled Sport. —— How troublesome is such Interruption! You shall hear now soon, for I shall not come away yet, so I rest,

  Your affectionate Daughter,

  Shamela.

  LETTER III. Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews to Shamela Andrews.

  Dear Sham,

  Your last Letter hath put me into a great hurry of Spirits, for you have a very difficult Part to act. I hope you will remember your Slip with Parson Williams, and not be guilty of any more such Folly. Truly, a Girl who hath once known what is what, is in the highest Degree inexcusable if she respects her Digressions; but a Hint of this is sufficient. When Mrs. Jervis thinks of coming to 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 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, Saucebox, 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 Honeysuckle, I have one Game to play for you; he shall see you in Bed; he shall, my little Rosebud, 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 some of his Warmth to thee my little Angel; I heard him last Night at our Door, trying if it was open, now to-night I will take care it shall be so; I warrant that he makes the second Trial; which if he doth, he shall find us ready to receive him. I will at first counterfeit Sleep, and after a Swoon; so that he will have you naked in his Possession: and then if you are disappointed, a Plague of all young Squires, say I. —— And so, Mrs. Jervis, says I, you would have me yield myself to him, would you; you would have me be a second Time a Fool for nothing. Thank you for that, Mrs. Jervis. For nothing! marry forbid, says she, you know he hath large Sums of Money, besides abundance of fine Things; and do you think, when you have inflamed him, by giving his Hand a Liberty with that charming Person; and that you know he may easily think he obtains against your Will, he will not give any thing to come at all —— . This will not do, Mrs. Jervis, answered I. I Have heard my Mamma say, (and so you know, Madam, I have) that in her Youth, Fellows have often taken away in the Morning, what they gave over Night. No, Mrs. Jervis, nothing under a regular taking into Keeping, a settled Settlement, for me, and all my Heirs, all my whole Life-time, shall do the Business —— or else cross-legged, is the Word, faith, with Sham; and then I snapt my Fingers.

  Thursday Night, Twelve o’Clock.

  Mrs. Jervis and I are just in Bed, and the Door unlocked; if my Master should come —— Odsbobs! I hear him just coming in at the Door. You see I write in the present Tense, as Parson Williams says. Well, he is in Bed between us, we both shamming a Sleep, he steals his Hand into my Bosom, which I, as if in my Sleep, press close to me with mine, and then pretend to awake. — I no sooner see him, but I Scream out to Mrs. Jervis, she feigns likewise but just to come to herself; we both begin, she to becall, and I to bescratch very liberally. After having made a pretty free Use of my Fingers, without any great Regard to the Parts I attack’d, I counterfeit a Swoon. Mrs. Jervis then cries out, O, Sir, what have you done, you have murthered poor Pamela: she is gone, she is gone. ——

  O what a Difficulty it is to keep one’s Countenance, when a violent Laugh desires to burst forth.

  The poor Booby frightned out of his Wits, jumped out of Bed, and, in his Shirt, sat down by my Bed-Side, pale and trembling, for the Moon shone, and I kept my Eyes wide open, and pretended to fix them in my Head. Mrs. Jervis apply’d Lavender Water, and Hartshorn, and this, for a full half Hour; when thinking I had carried it on long enough, and being likewise unable to continue the Sport any longer, I began by Degrees to come to my self.

  The Squire, who had sat all this while speechless, and was almost really in that Condition, which I feigned, the Moment he Saw me give Symptoms of recovering my Senses, fell down on his Knees; and O Pamela, cryed he, can you forgive me, my injured Maid? by Heaven, I know not whether you are a Man or a Woman, unless by your swelling Breasts. Will you promise to forgive me: I forgive you! D — n you (says I) and d — n you says he, if you come to that. I wish I had never seen your bold Face, saucy Sow, and so went out of the Room.

  O what a silly Fellow is a bashful young Lover!

  He was no Sooner out of hearing, as we thought, than we both burst into a violent Laugh. Well, says Mrs. Jervis, I never saw any thing better acted than your Part: But I wish you may not have discouraged him from any future Attempt; especially since his Passions are so cool, that you could prevent his Hands going further than your Bosom. Hang him, answered I, he is not quite so cold as that I assure you; our Hands, on neither side, were idle in the Scuffle, nor have left us any Doubt of each other as to that matter.

  Friday Morning.

  My Master sent for Mrs. Jervis as soon as he was up, and bid her give an Account of the Plate and Linnen in her Care; and told her, he was resolved that both she and the little Gipsy (I’ll assure him) should set out together. Mrs. Jervis made him a saucy Answer; which any Servant of Spirit, you know, would, tho’ it should be one’s Ruin; and came immediately in Tears to me, crying, she had lost her Place on my Account, and that she should be forced to take to a House, as I mentioned before; and that she hoped I would, at least, make her all the amends in my power, for her Loss on my Account, and come to her House whenever I was sent for. Never fear, says I, I’ll warrant we are not so near being turned away, as you imagine; and, i’cod, now it comes into my Head, I have a Fetch for him, and you shall assist me in it. But it being now late, and my Letter pretty long, no more at present from

  Your Dutiful Daughter,

  Shamela.

  LETTER VII. Mrs. Lucretia Jervis to Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews.

  Madam,

  Miss Sham being set out in a Hurry for my Master’s House in Lincolnshire, desired me to acquaint you with the Success of her Stratagem, which was to dress herself in the plain Neatness of a Farmer’s Daughter, for she before wore the Cloaths of my late Mistress, and to be introduced by me as a Stranger to her Master. To say the Truth, she became the Dress extremely, and if I was to keep a House a thousand Years, I would never desire a prettier Wench in it.

  As soon as my Master saw her, he immediately threw his Arms round her Neck, and smothered her with Kisses (for indeed he hath but very little to say for himself to a Woman.) He swore that Pamela was an ugly Slut, (pardon, dear Madam, the Coarseness of the Expression) compared to such divine Excellence. He added, he would turn Pamela away immediately, and take this new Girl, whom he thought to be one of his Tenant’s Daughters, in her Room.

  Miss Sham smiled at these Words, and so did your humble Servant, which he perceiving, looked very earnestly at your fair Daughter, and discovered the Cheat.

  How, Pamela, says he, is it you? I thought, Sir, said Miss, after what had happened, you would have known me in any Dress. No, Hussy, says he, but after what hath happened, I should know thee out of any Dress from all thy Sex. He then was what we Women call rude, when done in the Presence of others; but it seems it is not the first time, and Miss defended herself with great Strength and Spirit.

  The Squire, who thinks her a pure Virgin, and who knows nothing of my Character, resolved to send her into Lincolnshire, on Pretence of conveying her home; where our old Friend Nanny Jewkes is Housekeeper, and where Miss had her small one by Parson Williams about a Year ago. This is a Piece of News communi
cated to us by Robin Coachman, who is intrusted by his Master to carry on this Affair privately for him: But we hang together, I believe, as well as any Family of Servants in the Nation.

  You will, I believe, Madam, wonder that the Squire, who doth not want Generosity, should never have mentioned a Settlement all this while, I believe it slips his Memory: But it will not be long first, no doubt: For, as I am convinced the young Lady will do nothing unbecoming your Daughter, nor ever admit him to taste her Charms, without something sure and handsome before-hand; so, I am certain, the Squire will never rest till they have danced Adam and Eve’s kissing Dance together. Your Daughter set out Yesterday Morning, and told me, as soon as she arrived, you might depend on hearing from her.

  Be pleased to make my Compliments acceptable to Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Silvester, and Mrs. Jolly, and all Friends, and permit me the Honour, Madam, to be with the utmost Sincerity,

  Your most Obedient,

  Humble Servant,

  Lucretia Jervis.

  If the Squire should continue his Displeasure against me, so as to insist on the Warning he hath given me, you will see me soon, and I will lodge in the same House with you, if you have room, till I can provide for my self to my Liking.

  LETTER VIII. Henrietta Maria Honora Andrews to Lucretia Jervis.