Read "Clarissa Harlowe" by Samuel Richardson online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Monday Afternoon Pity me, Jack, for pity's sake; since, if thou dost not, nobody else will: and yet never was there a man of my genius and lively temper that wanted it more. We are apt to attribute to the devil everything happens to us, which we would not have happen: but here, being, (as perhaps thou'lt say), the devil myself, my plagues arise from an angel. I suppose all mankind is to be plagued by its contrary.
She began with me like a true woman, (she in the fault, I to be blamed), the moment I entered the dining-room: not the least apology, not the least excuse, for the uproar she had made, and the trouble she had given me.