’He resolves never to marry any other woman:  takes a pride to have her called by his name:  a church-rite all the difference between them:  treats her with deserved tenderness.  Nobody questions their marriage but those proud relations of her’s, whom he wishes to question it.  Every year a charming boy.  Fortunes to support the increasing family with splendor.  A tender father.  Always a warm friend; a generous landlord; and a punctual paymaster.  Now-and-then however, perhaps, indulging with a new object, in order to bring him back with greater delight to his charming Clarissa—­his only fault, love of the sex—­which, nevertheless, the women say, will cure itself—­defensible thus far, that he breaks no contracts by his rovings.’—­

And what is there so very greatly amiss, as the world goes, in all this?

Let me aver, that there are thousands and ten thousands, who have worse stories to tell than this would appear to be, had I not interested thee in the progress to my great end.  And besides, thou knowest that the character I gave myself to Joseph Leman, as to my treatment of my mistress, is pretty near the truth.*

* See Vol.  III.  Letter XLVIII.

Were I to be as much in earnest in my defence, as thou art warm in my arraignment, I could convince thee, by other arguments, observations, and comparisons, [Is not all human good and evil comparative?] that though from my ingenuous temper (writing only to thee, who art master of every secret of my heart) I am so ready to accuse myself in my narrations, yet I have something to say for myself to myself, as I go along; though no one else, perhaps, that was not a rake, would allow any weight to it.—­ And this caution might I give to thousands, who would stoop for a stone to throw at me:  ’See that your own predominant passions, whatever they be, hurry you not into as much wickedness as mine do me.  See, if ye happen to be better than I in some things, that ye are not worse in others; and in points too, that may be of more extensive bad consequence, than that of seducing a girl, (and taking care of her afterwards,) who, from her cradle, is armed with cautions against the delusions of men.’  And yet I am not so partial to my own follies as to think lightly of this fault, when I allow myself to think.

Another grave thing I will add, now my hand is in:  ’So dearly do I love the sex, that had I found that a character for virtue had been generally necessary to recommend me to them, I should have had a much greater regard to my morals, as to the sex, than I have had.’