disarmed my resolution before I approached your bed: And I see you so
watchful over your virtue, that though I hoped to find it otherwise, I
cannot but confess my passion for you is increased by it. But now, what
shall I say farther, Pamela?--I will make you, though a party, my adviser
in this matter, though not, perhaps, my definitive judge.

You know I am not a very abandoned profligate; I have hitherto been
guilty of no very enormous or vile actions. This of seizing you, and
confining you thus, may perhaps be one of the worst, at least to persons
of real innocence. Had I been utterly given up to my passions, I should
before now have gratified them, and not have shewn that remorse and
compassion for you, which have reprieved you, more than once, when
absolutely in my power; and you are as inviolate a virgin as you were
when you came into my house.

But what can I do? Consider the pride of my condition. I cannot endure
the thought of marriage, even with a person of equal or superior degree
to myself; and have declined several proposals of that kind: How then,
with the distance between us in the world's judgment, can I think of
making you my wife?--Yet I must have you; I cannot bear the thoughts of
any other man supplanting me in your affections: and the very
apprehension of that has made me hate the name of Williams, and use him
in a manner unworthy of my temper.

Now, Pamela, judge for me; and, since I have told you, thus candidly, my
mind, and I see yours is big with some important meaning, by your eyes,
your blushes, and that sweet confusion which I behold struggling in your
bosom, tell me, with like openness and candour, what you think I ought to
do, and what you would have me do.