Henry Fielding: The History of Tom Jones, a foundling

10. Chapter x. In which Mr Jones and Mr Dowling... (continued)

"Indeed you wrong me," said Jones; "I should have been contented with very little: I never had any view upon Mr Allworthy's fortune; nay, I believe I may truly say, I never once considered what he could or might give me. This I solemnly declare, if he had done a prejudice to his nephew in my favour, I would have undone it again. I had rather enjoy my own mind than the fortune of another man. What is the poor pride arising from a magnificent house, a numerous equipage, a splendid table, and from all the other advantages or appearances of fortune, compared to the warm, solid content, the swelling satisfaction, the thrilling transports, and the exulting triumphs, which a good mind enjoys, in the contemplation of a generous, virtuous, noble, benevolent action? I envy not Blifil in the prospect of his wealth; nor shall I envy him in the possession of it. I would not think myself a rascal half an hour, to exchange situations. I believe, indeed, Mr Blifil suspected me of the views you mention; and I suppose these suspicions, as they arose from the baseness of his own heart, so they occasioned his baseness to me. But, I thank Heaven, I know, I feel--I feel my innocence, my friend; and I would not part with that feeling for the world. For as long as I know I have never done, nor even designed, an injury to any being whatever,

     Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
     Arbor aestiva recreatur aura,
     Quod latus mundi nebulae, malusque
     Jupiter urget.

     Pone sub curru nimium propinqui
     Solis in terra dominibus negata;
     Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
     Dulce loquentem.

     [*] Place me where never summer breeze
     Unbinds the glebe, or warms the trees:
     Where ever-lowering clouds appear,
     And angry Jove deforms th' inclement year.

     Place me beneath the burning ray,
     Where rolls the rapid car of day;
     Love and the nymph shall charm my toils,
     The nymph who sweetly speaks, and sweetly smiles.
                                          MR FRANCIS.

He then filled a bumper of wine, and drunk it off to the health of his dear Lalage; and, filling Dowling's glass likewise up to the brim, insisted on his pledging him. "Why, then, here's Miss Lalage's health with all my heart," cries Dowling. "I have heard her toasted often, I protest, though I never saw her; but they say she's extremely handsome."

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