# The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book I, Chapter V

CHAPTER V.
_The death of Sir Thomas Booby, with the affectionate and mournful
behaviour of his widow, and the great purity of Joseph Andrews._
At this time an accident happened which put a stop to those agreeable
walks, which probably would have soon puffed up the cheeks of Fame, and
caused her to blow her brazen trumpet through the town; and this was no
other than the death of Sir Thomas Booby, who, departing this life, left
his disconsolate lady confined to her house, as closely as if she
herself had been attacked by some violent disease. During the first six
days the poor lady admitted none but Mrs. Slipslop, and three female
friends, who made a party at cards: but on the seventh she ordered Joey,
whom, for a good reason, we shall hereafter call JOSEPH, to bring up her
tea-kettle. The lady being in bed, called Joseph to her, bade him sit
down, and, having accidentally laid her hand on his, she asked him if he
had ever been in love. Joseph answered, with some confusion, it was time
enough for one so young as himself to think on such things. "As young as
you are," replied the lady, "I am convinced you are no stranger to that
passion. Come, Joey," says she, "tell me truly, who is the happy girl
whose eyes have made a conquest of you?" Joseph returned, that all the
women he had ever seen were equally indifferent to him. "Oh then," said
the lady, "you are a general lover. Indeed, you handsome fellows, like
handsome women, are very long and difficult in fixing; but yet you
shall never persuade me that your heart is so insusceptible of
affection; I rather impute what you say to your secrecy, a very
commendable quality, and what I am far from being angry with you for.
Nothing can be more unworthy in a young man, than to betray any
intimacies with the ladies." "Ladies! madam," said Joseph, "I am sure I
never had the impudence to think of any that deserve that name." "Don't
pretend to too much modesty," said she, "for that sometimes may be
impertinent: but pray answer me this question. Suppose a lady should
happen to like you; suppose she should prefer you to all your sex, and
admit you to the same familiarities as you might have hoped for if you
had been born her equal, are you certain that no vanity could tempt you
to discover her? Answer me honestly, Joseph; have you so much more sense
and so much more virtue than you handsome young fellows generally have,
who make no scruple of sacrificing our dear reputation to your pride,
without considering the great obligation we lay on you by our
condescension and confidence? Can you keep a secret, my Joey?" "Madam,"
says he, "I hope your ladyship can't tax me with ever betraying the
secrets of the family; and I hope, if you was to turn me away, I might
have that character of you." "I don't intend to turn you away, Joey,"
said she, and sighed; "I am afraid it is not in my power." She then
raised herself a little in her bed, and discovered one of the whitest
necks that ever was seen; at which Joseph blushed. "La!" says she, in an
affected surprize, "what am I doing? I have trusted myself with a man
alone, naked in bed; suppose you should have any wicked intentions upon
my honour, how should I defend myself?" Joseph protested that he never
had the least evil design against her. "No," says she, "perhaps you may
not call your designs wicked; and perhaps they are not so."--He swore
they were not. "You misunderstand me," says she; "I mean if they were
against my honour, they may not be wicked; but the world calls them so.
But then, say you, the world will never know anything of the matter; yet
would not that be trusting to your secrecy? Must not my reputation be
then in your power? Would you not then be my master?" Joseph begged her
ladyship to be comforted; for that he would never imagine the least
wicked thing against her, and that he had rather die a thousand deaths
than give her any reason to suspect him. "Yes," said she, "I must have
reason to suspect you. Are you not a man? and, without vanity, I may
pretend to some charms. But perhaps you may fear I should prosecute you;
indeed I hope you do; and yet Heaven knows I should never have the
confidence to appear before a court of justice; and you know, Joey, I am
of a forgiving temper. Tell me, Joey, don't you think I should forgive
you?"--"Indeed, madam," says Joseph, "I will never do anything to
disoblige your ladyship."--"How," says she, "do you think it would not
disoblige me then? Do you think I would willingly suffer you?"--"I don't
understand you, madam," says Joseph.--"Don't you?" said she, "then you
are either a fool, or pretend to be so; I find I was mistaken in you. So
get you downstairs, and never let me see your face again; your pretended
innocence cannot impose on me."--"Madam," said Joseph, "I would not have
your ladyship think any evil of me. I have always endeavoured to be a
dutiful servant both to you and my master."--"O thou villain!" answered
my lady; "why didst thou mention the name of that dear man, unless to
torment me, to bring his precious memory to my mind?" (and then she
burst into a fit of tears.) "Get thee from my sight! I shall never
endure thee more." At which words she turned away from him; and Joseph
retreated from the room in a most disconsolate condition, and writ that
letter which the reader will find in the next chapter.