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_,