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?

Very pretty, said Mr. Williams. Lady Jones said, O, dear madam! could you wish that we should be deprived of this new instance of your genius and accomplishments?

O! said my dear father, you will make my good child proud. No, said my master very generously, Pamela can’t be proud. For no one is proud to hear themselves praised, but those who are not used to it.—But proceed, Mr. Williams. He read:

But yet, if I Jerusalem

Out of my heart let slide; Then let my fingers quite forget

The warbling harp to guide.

Well, now, said my master, for Pamela’s version:

But yet, if from my innocence

I ev’n in thought should slide, Then let my fingers quite forget

The sweet spinnet to guide.

Mr. Williams read:

And let my tongue, within my mouth,

Be ty’d for ever fast, If I rejoice, before I see

Thy full deliv’rance past.

This, also, said my master, is very near: