eps, perhaps
such as himself, confirming him in all his courses, assisting him in
all his enterprises.
As to the other gentleman, suppose, my dear cousin, you do not like him
at present, it is far from being unlikely that you will hereafter:
perhaps the more for not liking him now. He can hardly sink lower in
your opinion: he may rise. Very seldom is it that high expectations are
so much as tolerably answered. How indeed can they, when a fine and
extensive imagination carries its expectation infinitely beyond reality,
in the highest of our sublunary enjoyments? A woman adorned with such an
imagination sees no defect in a favoured object, (the less, if she be not
conscious of any wilful fault in herself,) till it is too late to rectify
the mistakes occasioned by her generous credulity.
But suppose a person of your talents were to marry a man of inferior
talents; Who, in this case, can be so happy in herself as Miss Clarissa
Harlowe? What delight do you take in doing good! How happily do you
devote the several portions of the day to your own improvement, and to
the advantage of all that move within your sphere!--And then, such is
your taste, such are your acquirements in the politer studies, and in the
politer amusements; such your excellence in all the different parts of
economy fit for a young lady's inspection and practice, that your friends
would wish you to be taken off as little as possible by regards that may
be called merely personal.
But as to what may be the consequence respecting yourself, respecting a
young lady of your talents, from the preference you are suspected to give
to a libertine, I would have you, my dear cousin, consider what that may
be. A mind so pure, to mingle with a mind impure! And will not such a
man as this engross all your solitudes? Will he not perpetually fill you
with anxieties for him and for yourself?--The divine and civil powers
defied, and their sanctions broken through by him, on every not merely
accidental but meditated occasion. To be agreeable to him, and to hope
to preserve an interest in his affections, you must probably be obliged
to abandon all your own laudable pursuits. You must enter into his
pleasures and distastes. You must give up your virtuous companions for
his profligate ones--perhaps be forsaken by your's, because of the
scandal he daily gives. Can you hope, cousin, with such a man as this to
be long so good as you now are? If not, consider which
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