My dear Lady,

I will now pursue my last affecting Subject; for the Visit is over: But a sad Situation I am in with Mr. B. for all that: But I’ll try to forget it, till I come to it in course, bad as it is.

At Four in the Afternoon Mr. B. came in to receive his Guests, whom he expected at Five. He came up to me. I had just closed my last Letter; but put it up, and set before me your Ladyship's Play Subjects.

So, Pamela!—How do you now?

Your Ladyship may guess, by what I wrote before, that I could not give any extraordinary Account of myself.—As well—As well, Sir, as possible.—Half out of Breath.

You give yourself strange melancholy Airs of late, my Dear!—You don't do well!—All that Chearfulness which used to delight me whenever I saw you, I’m sorry for it, is quite vanish’d of late.—You and I must shortly have a little serious Talk together.

When you please, Sir.—I believe it is only not being us’d to this smoaky thick Air of London!—I shall be better when you carry me into the Country.—I dare say I shall!—But I never was in London so long before, you know, Sir.

All in good time, Pamela.—But is this the best Appearance you chuse to make to receive such Guests?

If it displease you, Sir, I will dress otherwise in a Minute.

You look well in any thing.—But I thought you’d have had your Jewels— Yet they would never have less become you; for of late your Eyes have lost that Brilliancy that used to strike me with a Lustre, much surpassing that of the finest Diamonds.

I am sorry for it, Sir.—But as I never could pride myself in deserving such a kind Compliment, I should be too happy, forgive me, my dearest Mr. B. if the Failure be not rather in your Eyes than my own.

He looked at me stedfastly!—I fear, Pamela—But, don't be a Fool!

You are angry with me, Sir!

No, not I.

Would you have me dress better?

No, not I—If your Eyes look’d a little more brilliant, you want no Addition.

Down he went.