him. He was quickly interrupted by Mr. Adams, between whom and his Worship a Dispute now arofe, whether he ought not, in Strictnefs of Law, to have committed him, the faid Adams; in which the latter maintained he ought to have been committed, and the Juftice as vehemently held he ought not. This had moft probably produced a Quarrel, (for both were very violent and pofitive in their Opinions) had not Fanny accidentally heard, that a young Fellow was going from the Juftice's Houfe to the very Inn where the Stage-Coach, in which Jofeph was, put up. Upon this News, the immediately fent for the Parfon out of the Parlour. Adams, when he found her refolute to go, (tho' fhe would not own the Reason, but pretended she could not bear to fee the Faces of those who had fufpected her of fuch a Crime) was as fully determined to go with her; he accordingly took leave of the Juftice and Company, and fo ended a Difpute, in which the Law feemed fhamefully to intend to fet a Magiftrate and a Divine together by the Ears.

CHA P. XII.

A very delightful Adventure, as well to the
Perfons concerned, as to the good-natured
Reader.

A

DAMS, Fanny, and the Guide, fet out together, about one in the Morning, the Moon being then juft rifen. They had not gone above a Mile, before a moft violent Storm of Rain obliged them to take Shelter in an Inn, or

rather

rather Alehoufe; where Adams immediately procured himself a good Fire, a Toaft and Ale, and a Pipe, and began to smoke with great Content, utterly forgetting every thing that had happened.

Fanny fat likewife down by the Fire ; but was much more impatient at the Storm. She presently engaged the Eyes of the Hoft, his Wife, the Maid of the House, and the young Fellow who was their Guide; they all conceived they had never feen any thing half fo handfome: and indeed, Reader, if thou art of an amorous Hue, I advise thee to skip over the next Paragraph; which, to render our History perfect, we are obliged to fet down, humbly hoping, that we may efcape the Fate of Pygmalion for if it fhould happen to us or to thee to be ftruck with this Picture, we fhould be perhaps in as helpless a Condition as Narciffus; and might say to ourselves, Quod petis eft nufquam. Or if the finest Features in it fhould fet Lady's Image before our Eyes, we fhould be ftill in as bad Situation, and might fay to our Defires, Coelum ipfum petimus ftultitia.

Fanny was now in the nineteenth Year of her Age; he was tall, and delicately shaped; but not one of those slender young Wo omen, who feem rather intended to hang up in the Hall of an Anàtomift, than for any other Purpose. On the con trary fhe was fo plump, that the feem'd bursting through her tight Stays, especially in the Part which confined her fwelling Breafts. Nor did her Hips want the Affiftance of a Hoop to extend them. The exact Shape of her Arms denoted the Form of thofe Limbs which the concealed; and tho' they were a little reddened by her Labour; yet if her Sleeve flipt above her Elbow, or

her Handkerchief discovered any Part of her Neck, a Whitenefs appeared which the finest Italian Paint would be unable to reach. Her Hair was of a Chefnut Brown, and Nature had been extremely lavish to her of it, which fhe had: cut, and on Sundays used to curl down her Neck in the modern Fashion. Her Forehead was high, her Eye-brows arched, and rather full than otherwife. Her Eyes black and sparkling; her Nofe just inclining to the Roman; her Lips red and moift, and her under-Lip, according to the Opinion of the Ladies, too pouting. Her Teeth. were white, but not exactly even. The SmallPox had left one only Mark on her Chin, which. was fo large, it might have been mistaken for a Dimple, had not her left Cheek produced one fo near a Neighbour to it, that the former fervedonly for a Foil to the latter. Her Complexion was fair, a little injured by the Sun, but overfpread with fuch a Bloom, that the finest Ladies would have exchanged all their White for it: add to thefe a Countenance, in which tho' fhe was extremely bashful, a Senfibility appeared almost incredible; and a Sweetnefs, whenever the fmiled, beyond either Imitation or Defcription. To conclude all, fhe had a natural Gentility, fuperior to the Acquifition of Art, and which furprized all who beheld her.

This lovely Creature was fitting by the Fire: with Adams, when her Attention was fuddenly engaged by a Voice from an inner Room, which fung the following Song.

The

SAY

The SONG.

AY, Chloe, where must the Swain firay
Who is by thy Beauties undone,

To wash their Remembrance away,
To what diftant Lethe must run?
The Wretch who is fentenc'd to die,
May efcape, and leave Justice behind;
From his Country perhaps he may fly:
But O can he fly from his Mind!

O Rapture! unthought of before,
To be thus of Chloe poffeft;
Nor fhe, nor no Tyrant's hard Power,
Her Image can tear from my Breast.
But felt not Narciffus more Joy,

With his Eyes he beheld his lov'd Charms?

Yet what he beheld, the fond Boy

More eagerly wifh'd in his Arms.

How can it thy dear Image be,
Which fills thus my Bofom with Woe?
Can aught bear Refemblance to thee,
Which Grief and not Joy can bestow?
This Counterfeit fnatch from my Heart,
Ye Pow'rs, tho' with Torment I rave,
Tho' mortal will prove the fell Smart,
I then fhall find reft in my Grave.

Ab fee the dear Nymph o'er the Plain
Comes fmiling and tripping along,
A thoufand Loves dance in her Train;
The Graces around her all throng.

To

To meet her foft Zephyrus flies,

And wafts all the Sweets from the Flow'rs;
Ab Rogue! whilft he kiffes her Eyes,
More Sweets from her Breath he devours.

My Soul, whilft I gaze, is on fire,
: But her Looks were fo tender and kind;
My Hope almost reach'd my Defire,
And left lame Defpair far behind.
Tranfported with Madness I flew,
And eagerly feiz'd on my Blifs;
Her Bofom but half the withdrew,
But half he refus'd my fond Kifs.

Advances like thefe made me bold,

I whisper'd her, Love, -we're alone, The reft let Immortals unfold,

No Language can tell but their own. Ah Chloe expiring, I cry'd,

How long I thy Cruelty bore? Ah! Strephon, she blushing reply'd, You ne'er was fo preffing before.

Adams had been ruminating all this Time on a Paffage in Efchylus, without attending in the leaft to the Voice, tho' one of the most melodious that ever was heard; when cafting his Eyes on Fanny, he cried out, Blefs us, you look extremely pale.' Pale! Mr. Adams, fays fhe, O Jefus and fell backwards in her Chair. Adams jumped up, flung his Efchylus into the Fire, and fell a roaring to the People of the House for Help. He foon fummoned every one into the Room, and the Songster among the reft: But, O Reader, when this Nightingale, who was no other than Jofeph Andrews himself, faw his beloved Fanny