LETTER XIII

MR. LOVELACE, TO JOHN BELFORD, ESQ.

TUESDAY, MAY 2.

Mercury, as the fabulist tells us, having the curiosity to know the

estimation he stood in among mortals, descended in disguise, and in a

statuary's shop cheapened a Jupiter, then a Juno, then one, then another,

of the dii majores; and, at last, asked, What price that same statue of

Mercury bore? O Sir, says the artist, buy one of the others, and I'll

throw you in that for nothing.

How sheepish must the god of thieves look upon this rebuff to his vanity!

So thou! a thousand pounds wouldst thou give for the good opinion of this

single lady--to be only thought tolerably of, and not quite unworthy of

her conversation, would make thee happy. And at parting last night, or

rather this morning, thou madest me promise a few lines to Edgware, to

let thee know what she thinks of thee, and of thy brethren.

Thy thousand pounds, Jack, is all thy own: for most heartily does she

dislike ye all--thee as much as any of the rest.

I am sorry for it too, as to thy part; for two reasons--one, that I think

thy motive for thy curiosity was fear of consciousness: whereas that of

the arch-thief was vanity, intolerable vanity: and he was therefore

justly sent away with a blush upon his cheeks to heaven, and could not

brag--the other, that I am afraid, if she dislikes thee, she dislikes me:

for are we not birds of a feather?

I must never talk of reformation, she told me, having such companions,

and taking such delight, as I seemed to take, in their frothy

conversation.

I, no more than you, Jack, imagined she could possibly like ye: but then,

as my friends, I thought a person of her education would have been more

sparing of her censures.

I don't know how it is, Belford; but women think themselves entitled to

take any freedoms with us; while we are unpolite, forsooth, and I can't

tell what, if we don't tell a pack of cursed lies, and make black white,

in their favour--teaching us to be hypocrites, yet stigmatizing us, at

other times, for deceivers.

I defended ye all as well as I could: but you know there was no

attempting aught but a palliative defence, to one of her principles.

Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 4 · 第 32 / 183 题