Samuel Richardson

Clarissa Harlowe Samuel Richardson

I write, because you enjoin me to do so. Love you still!-How can I help it, if I would? You may believe how I stand aghast, your letter communicating the first news-Good God of Heaven and Earth!-But what shall I say?-I am all impatient for particulars. Lord have mercy upon me!-But can it be? My mother will indeed be astonished!-How can I tell it her!-It was but last night (upon some jealousies put into her head by your foolish uncle) that I assured her, and this upon the strength of your own assurances, that neither man nor devil would be able to induce you to take a step that was in the least derogatory to the most punctilious honour.