Vulgar words in Clarissa Harlowe; or the history of a young lady — Volume 5 (Page 1)
This book at a glance
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Had I not, like a blockhead, revealed to thee, as I went along, the secret purposes of my heart, but had kept all in till the event had explained my mysteries, I would have defied thee to have been able, any more than the lady, to have guessed at what was to befall her, till it had actually come to pass.
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The little hypocrite, who knows not a soul in this town, [I thought I was sure of her at any time,] such an unexperienced traitress--giving me hope too, in her first billet, that her expectation of the family- reconciliation would withhold her from taking such a step as this--curse upon her contrivances!--I thought, that it was owing to her bashfulness, to her modesty, that, after a few innocent freedoms, she could not look me in the face; when, all the while, she was impudently [yes, I say, impudently, though she be Clarissa Harlowe] contriving to rob me of the dearest property I had ever purchased--purchased by a painful servitude of many months; fighting through the wild-beasts of her family for her, and combating with a wind-mill virtue, which hath cost me millions of perjuries only to attempt; and which now, with its damn'd air-fans, has tost me a mile and a half beyond hope!--And this, just as I had arrived within view of the consummation of all my wishes!
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---- *** I have heard her story!--Art, damn'd, confounded, wicked, unpardonable art, is a woman of her character--But show me a woman, and I'll show thee a plotter!--This plaguy sex is art itself: every individual of it is a plotter by nature.
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How does this damn'd love unman me!--but nobody ever loved as I love!--It is even increased by her unworthy flight, and my disappointment.
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Damn'd confounded niceness, prudery, affectation, or pretty ignorance, if not affectation!--By my soul, Belford, I told thee all--I was more indebted to her struggles, than to my own forwardness.
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You have one or two good ones mean time, I presume, Madam, just to receive my wife; for we have lost time--these damn'd physicians--excuse me, Madam, I am not used to curse; but it is owing to the love I have for my wife--they have kept her in hand, till they are ashamed to take more fees, and now advise her to the air.
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Miss Rawlins stared at me [a confident slut this Miss Rawlins, thought I]: so did Mrs. Moore.
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But I am contented, said he, stammering, to be thought--to be thought--what--what you please to think of me--till, till, you are satisfied-- A whore's-bird!