23rd.

Since the little Wisdom I have Capacitie to acquire, soe oft gives me the Headache to Distraction, I marvel not at Jupiter's Payn in his Head, when the Goddess of Wisdom sprang therefrom full growne.

This Morn, to quiet the Payn brought on by too busie Application, Mr. Gunnel would have me close my Book and ramble forth with Cecy into the Fields. We strolled towards Walham Greene; and she was seeking for Shepherd's Purses and Shepherd's Needles, when she came running back to me, looking rather pale. I askt what had scared her, and she made answer that Gammer Gurney was coming along the Hedge. I bade her set aside her Feares; and anon we came up with Gammer, who was pulling at the purple Blossoms of the Deadly Nightshade. I sayd, "Gammer, to what Purpose gather that Weed? knowest not 'tis Evill?"

She sayth, mumbling, "What God hath created, that call not thou evill."

"Well, but," quo' I, "'tis Poison."

"Aye, and Medicine too," returns Gammer. "I wonder what we poor Souls might come to, if we tooke Nowt for our Ails and Aches but what we could buy o' the Potticary. We've got noe Dr. Clement, we poor Folks, to be our Leech o' the Household."

"But hast no Feare," quo' I, "of an Over-dose?"

"There's manie a Doctor," sayth she, with an unpleasant Leer, "that hath given that at first. In Time he gets his Hand in; and I've had a Plenty o' Practice—Thanks to Self and Sister."

"I knew not," quoth I, "that thou hadst a Sister."

"How should ye, Mistress," returns she shortlie, "when ye never comes nigh us? We've grubbed on together this many a Year."

"'Tis soe far," I returned, half ashamed.

"Why, soe it be," answers Gammer; "far from Neighbours, far from Church, and far from Priest; howbeit, my old Legs carries me to your House o' Fridays; but I know not whether I shall e'er come agayn—the Rye Bread was soe hard last Time; it may serve for young Teeth, and for them as has got none; but mine, you see, are onlie on the goe;" and she opened her Mouth with a ghastly Smile. "'Tis not," she added, "that I'm ungratefulle; but thou sees, Mistress, I really can't eat Crusts."

After a Moment, I asked, "Where lies your Dwelling?"

"Out by yonder," quoth she, pointing to a shapeless Mass like a huge Bird's Nest in the Corner of the Field. "There bides poor Joan and I. Wilt come and looke within, Mistress, and see how a Christian can die?"

I mutelie complyed, in spite of Cecy's pulling at my Skirts. Arrived at the wretched Abode, which had a Hole for its Chimney, and another for Door at once and Window, I found, sitting in a Corner, propped on a Heap of Rushes, dried Leaves, and olde Rags, an aged sick Woman, who seemed to have but a little While to live. A Mug of Water stoode within her Reach; I saw none other Sustenance; but, in her Visage, oh, such Peace!... Whispers Gammer with an awfulle Look, "She sees 'em now!"

"Sees who?" quoth I.

"Why, Angels in two long Rows, afore the Throne of God, a bending of themselves, this Way, with theire Faces to th' Earth, and Arms stretched out afore 'em."

"Hath she seen a Priest?" quoth I.

"Lord love ye," returns Gammer, "what coulde a Priest doe for her? She's in Heaven alreadie. I doubte if she can heare me." And then, in a loud, distinct Voyce, quite free from her usuall Mumping, she beganne to recite in English, "Blessed is every one that feareth the Lord, and walketh in his Ways," etc.; which the dying Woman hearde, although alreadie speechlesse; and reaching out her feeble Arm unto her Sister's Neck, she dragged it down till their Faces touched; and then, looking up, pointed at Somewhat she aimed to make her see ... and we alle looked up, but saw Noughte. Howbeit, she pointed up three severall Times, and lay, as it were, transfigured before us, a gazing at some transporting Sighte, and ever and anon turning on her Sister Looks of Love; and, the While we stoode thus agaze, her Spiritt passed away without even a Thrill or a Shudder. Cecy and I beganne to weepe; and, after a While, soe did Gammer; then, putting us forthe, she sayd, "Goe, Children, goe; 'tis noe goode crying; and yet I'm thankfulle to ye for your Teares."

I sayd, "Is there Aught we can doe for thee?"

She made Answer, "Perhaps you can give me Tuppence, Mistress, to lay on her poor Eyelids and keep 'em down. Bless 'ee, bless 'ee! You're like the good Samaritan—he pulled out Twopence. And maybe, if I come to 'ee To-morrow, you'll give me a Lapfulle of Rosemarie, to lay on her poor Corpse.... I know you've Plenty. God be with 'ee, Children; and be sure ye mind how a Christian can die."

Soe we left, and came Home sober enow. Cecy sayth, "To die is not soe fearfulle, Meg, as I thoughte, but shoulde you fancy dying without a Priest? I shoulde not; and yet Gammer sayd she wanted not one. Howbeit, for certayn, Gammer Gurney is noe Witch, or she would not soe prayse God."

To conclude, Father, on hearing Alle, hath given Gammer more than enow for her present Needes; and Cecy and I are the Almoners of his Mercy.

June 24th.

Yesternighte, being St. John's Eve, we went into Town to see the mustering of the Watch. Mr. Rastall had secured us a Window opposite the King's Head, in Chepe, where theire Majestys went in State to see the Show. The Streets were a Marvell to see, being like unto a Continuation of fayr Bowres or Arbours, garlanded acrosse and over the Doors with greene Birch, long Fennel, Orpin, St. John's Wort, white Lilies, and such like; with innumerable Candles intersperst, the which, being lit up as soon as 'twas Dusk, made the Whole look like enchanted Land; while, at the same Time, the leaping over Bon-fires commenced, and produced Shouts of Laughter. The Youths woulde have had Father goe downe and joyn 'em; Rupert, speciallie, begged him hard, but he put him off with, "Sirrah, you Goose-cap, dost think 'twoulde befitt the Judge of the Sheriffs' Court?"

At length, to the Sound of Trumpets, came marching up Cheapside two Thousand of the Watch, in white Fustian, with the City Badge; and seven hundred Cressett Bearers, eache with his Fellow to supplie him with Oyl, and making, with theire flaring Lights, the Night as cleare as Daye. After 'em, the Morris-dancers and City Waites; the Lord Mayor on horseback, very fine, with his Giants and Pageants; and the Sheriff and his Watch, and his Giants and Pageants. The Streets very uproarious on our way back to the Barge, but the homeward Passage delicious; the Nighte Ayre cool; and the Stars shining brightly. Father and Erasmus had some astronomick Talk; howbeit, methoughte Erasmus less familiar with the heavenlie Bodies than Father is. Afterwards they spake of the King, but not over-freelie, by reason of the Bargemen overhearing. Thence, to the ever-vext Question of Martin Luther, of whome Erasmus spake in Terms of earneste, yet qualifyde Prayse.

"If Luther be innocent," quoth he, "I woulde not run him down by a wicked Faction; if he be in Error, I woulde rather have him reclaymed than destroyed; for this is most agreeable to the Doctrine of our deare Lord and Master, who woulde not bruise the broken Reede, nor quenche the smoking Flax." And much more to same Purpose.

We younger Folks felle to choosing our favourite Mottoes and Devices, in which the Elders at length joyned us. Mother's was loyal—"Cleave to the Crown though it hang on a Bush." Erasmus's pithie—"Festina lente." William sayd he was indebted for his to St. Paul—"I seeke not yours, but you." For me, I quoted one I had seene in an olde Countrie Church, "Mieux être que paroître," which pleased Father and Erasmus much.

June 25th.

Poor Erasmus caughte colde on the Water last Nighte, and keeps House to-daye, taking warm Possets. 'Tis my Week of Housekeeping under Mother's Guidance, and I never had more Pleasure in it; delighting to suit his Taste in sweete Things, which, methinks, all Men like. I have enow of Time left for Studdy, when alle's done.

He hathe beene the best Part of the Morning in our Academia, looking over Books and Manuscripts, taking Notes of some, discoursing with Mr. Gunnel on others; and, in some Sorte, interrupting our Morning's Work; but how pleasantlie! Besides, as Father sayth, "Varietie is not always Interruption. That which occasionallie lets and hinders our accustomed Studdies, may prove to the ingenious noe less profitable than theire Studdies themselves."

They beganne with discussing the Pronunciation of Latin and Greek, on which Erasmus differeth much from us, though he holds to our Pronunciation of the Theta. Thence, to the absurde Partie of the Ciceronians now in Italie, who will admit noe Author save Tully to be read nor quoted, nor any Word not in his Writings to be used. Thence to the Latinitie of the Fathers, of whose Style he spake slightlie enow, but rated Jerome above Augustine. At length, to his Greek and Latin Testament, of late issued from the Presse, and the incredible Labour it hath cost him to make it as perfect as possible: on this Subject he so warmed that Bess and I listened with suspended Breath. "May it please God," sayth he, knitting ferventlie his Hands, "to make it a Blessing to all Christendom! I look for noe other Reward. Scholars and Believers yet unborn may have Reason to thank, and yet may forget Erasmus." He then went on to explain to Gunnel what he had much felt in want of, and hoped some Scholar might yet undertake; to wit, a Sort of Index Bibliorum, showing in how manie Passages of Holy Writ occurreth anie given Word, etc.; and he e'en proposed it to Gunnel, saying 'twas onlie the Work of Patience and Industry, and mighte be layd aside, and resumed as Occasion offered, and completed at Leisure, to the great Thankfullenesse of Scholars. But Gunnel onlie smiled and shooke his Head. Howbeit, Erasmus set forth his Scheme soe playnlie, that I, having a Pen in Hand, did privilie note down alle the Heads of the same, thinking, if none else would undertake it, why should not I? since Leisure and Industrie were alone required, and since 'twoulde be soe acceptable to manie, 'speciallie to Erasmus.

June 29th.

Hearde Mother say to Barbara, "Be sure the Sirloin is well basted for the King's Physician;" which avised me that Dr. Linacre was expected. In Truth, he returned with Father in the Barge; and they tooke a Turn on the River Bank before sitting down to Table. I noted them from my Lattice; and anon, Father, beckoning me, cries, "Child, bring out my favourite Treatyse on Fisshynge, printed by Wynkyn de Worde; I must give the Doctor my loved Passage."

Joyning 'em with the Booke, I found Father telling him of the Roach, Dace, Chub, Barbel, etc., we oft catch opposite the Church; and hastilie turning over the Leaves, he beginneth with Unction to read the Passage ensuing, which I love to the full as much as he:—

He observeth, if the Angler's Sport shoulde fail him, "he at the best hathe his holsom Walk and mery at his Ease, a swete Ayre of the swete Savour of the Meade of Flowers, that maketh him hungry; he heareth the melodious Harmonie of Fowles, he seeth the young Swans, Herons, Ducks, Cotes, and manie other Fowles, with theire Broods, which me seemeth better than alle the Noise of Hounds, Faukenors, and Fowlers can make. And if the Angler take Fysshe, then there is noe Man merrier than he is in his Spryte." And, "Ye shall not use this foresaid crafty Disporte for no covetysnesse in the encreasing and sparing of your Money onlie, but pryncipallie for your Solace, and to cause the Health of your Bodie, and speciallie of your Soule, for when ye purpose to goe on your Disportes of Fysshynge, ye will not desire greatlie manie Persons with you, which woulde lett you of your Game. And thenne ye may serve God devoutlie, in saying affectuouslie your customable Prayer; and thus doing, ye shall eschew and voyd manie Vices."

"Angling is itselfe a Vice," cries Erasmus, from the Thresholde; "for my Part I will fish none, save and except for pickled Oysters."

"In the Regions below," answers Father; and then laughinglie tells Linacre of his firste Dialogue with Erasmus, who had beene feasting in my Lord Mayor's Cellar:—"'Whence come you?' 'From below.' 'What were they about there?' 'Eating live Oysters, and drinking out of Leather Jacks.' 'Either you are Erasmus,' etc. 'Either you are More or Nothing.'"

"'Neither more nor less,' you should have rejoyned," sayth the Doctor.

"How I wish I had!" says Father; "don't torment me with a Jest I might have made and did not make; 'speciallie to put downe Erasmus."

"Concedo nulli," sayth Erasmus.

"Why are you so lazy?" asks Linacre; "I am sure you can speak English if you will."

"Soe far from it," sayth Erasmus, "that I made my Incapacitie an Excuse for declining an English Rectory. Albeit, you know how Wareham requited me; saying, in his kind, generous Way, I served the Church more by my Pen than I coulde by preaching Sermons in a countrie Village."

Sayth Linacre, "The Archbishop hath made another Remark, as much to the Purpose: to wit, that he has received from you the Immortalitie which Emperors and Kings cannot bestow."

"They cannot even bid a smoking Sirloin retain its Heat an Hour after it hath left the Fire," sayth Father. "Tilly-vally! as my good Alice says,—let us remember the universal Doom, 'Fruges consumere nati,' and philosophize over our Ale and Bracket."

"Not Cambridge Ale, neither," sayth Erasmus.

"Will you never forget that unlucky Beverage?" sayth Father. "Why, Man, think how manie poor Scholars there be, that content themselves, as I have hearde one of St. John's declare, with a penny piece of Beef amongst four, stewed into Pottage with a little Salt and Oatmeal; and that after fasting from four o'clock in the Morning! Say Grace for us this Daye, Erasmus, with goode Heart."

At Table, Discourse flowed soe thicke and faste that I mighte aim in vayn to chronicle it—and why should I? dwelling as I doe at the Fountayn Head? Onlie that I find Pleasure, alreadie, in glancing over the foregoing Pages whensoever they concern Father and Erasmus, and wish they were more faithfullie recalled and better writ. One Thing sticks by me,—a funny Reply of Father's to a Man who owed him Money and who put him off with "Memento Morieris." "I bid you," retorted Father, "Memento Mori Æris, and I wish you woulde take as goode Care to provide for the one as I do for the other."

Linacre laughed much at this, and sayd,—"That was real Wit; a Spark struck at the Moment; and with noe Ill-nature in it, for I am sure your Debtor coulde not help laughing."

"Not he," quoth Erasmus. "More's Drollerie is like that of a young Gentlewoman of his Name, which shines without burning," ... and, oddlie enow, he looked acrosse at me. I am sure he meant Bess.

July 1st.

Father broughte home a strange Guest to-daye,—a converted Jew, with grizzlie Beard, furred Gown, and Eyes that shone like Lamps lit in dark Cavernes. He had beene to Benmarine and Tremeçen, to the Holie Citie and to Damascus, to Urmia and Assyria, and I think alle over the knowne World; and tolde us manie strange Tales, one hardlie knew how to believe; as, for Example, of a Sea-coast Tribe, called the Balouches, who live on Fish and build theire Dwellings of the Bones. Alsoe, of a Race of his Countriemen beyond Euphrates who believe in Christ, but know nothing of the Pope; and of whom were the Magians that followed the Star. This agreeth not with our Legend. He averred that, though soe far apart from theire Brethren, theire Speech was the same, and even theire Songs; and he sang or chaunted one which he sayd was common among the Jews alle over the World, and had beene soe ever since theire Citie was ruinated and the People captivated, and yet it was never sett down in Prick-song. Erasmus, who knows little or nought of Hebrew, listened to the Words with Curiositie, and made him repeate them twice or thrice: and though I know not the Character, it seemed to me they sounded thus:—

Though Christianish, he woulde not eat Pig's Face; and sayd Swine's Flesh was forbidden by the Hebrew Law for its unwholesomenesse in hot Countries and hot Weather, rather than by way of arbitrarie Prohibition. Daisy took a great Dislike to this Man, and woulde not sit next him.

In the Hay-field alle the Evening. Swathed Father in a Hay-rope, and made him pay the Fine, which he pretended to resist. Cecy was just about to cast one round Erasmus, when her Heart failed and she ran away, colouring to the Eyes. He sayd, he never saw such pretty Shame. Father reclining on the Hay, with his Head on my Lap and his Eyes shut, Bess asked if he were asleep. He made answer, "Yes, and dreaming." I askt, "Of what?" "Of a far-off future Daye, Meg; when thou and I shall looke back on this Hour, and this Hay-field, and my Head on thy Lap."

"Nay, but what a stupid Dream, Mr. More," says Mother. "Why, what woulde you dreame of, Mrs. Alice?" "Forsooth, if I dreamed at alle, when I was wide awake, it shoulde be of being Lord Chancellor at the leaste." "Well, Wife, I forgive thee for not saying at the most. Lord Chancellor, quotha! And you woulde be Dame Alice, I trow, and ride in a Whirlecote, and keep a Spanish Jennet, and a Couple of Greyhounds, and wear a Train before and behind, and carry a Jerfalcon on your Fist." "On my Wrist." "No, that's not such a pretty Word as t'other! Go to, go!"

Straying from the others, to a remote Corner of the Meadow, or ever I was aware, I came close upon Gammer Gurney, holding Somewhat with much Care. "Give ye good den, Mistress Meg," quoth she, "I cannot abear to rob the Birds of theire Nests; but I knows you and yours be kind to dumb Creatures, soe here's a Nest o' young Owzels for ye—and I can't call 'em dumb nowther, for they'll sing bravelie some o' these Days." "How hast fared, of late, Gammer?" quoth I. "Why, well enow for such as I," she made Answer; "since I lost the Use o' my right Hand, I can nowther spin, nor nurse sick Folk, but I pulls Rushes, and that brings me a few Pence, and I be a good Herbalist; onlie, because I says one or two English Prayers, and hates the Priests, some Folks thinks me a Witch." "But why dost hate the Priests?" quoth I. "Never you mind," she gave Answer, "I've Reasons manie; and for my English Prayers, they were taught me by a Gentleman I nursed, that's now a Saint in Heaven, along with poor Joan."

And soe she hobbled off, and I felt kindlie towards her, I scarce knew why—perhaps because she spake soe lovingly of her dead Sister, and because of that Sister's Name. My Mother's Name was Joan.

July 2nd.

Erasmus is gone. His last Saying to Father was, "They will have you at Court yet;" and Father's Answer, "When Plato's Year comes round."

To me he gave a Copy, how precious! of his Testament. "You are an elegant Latinist, Margaret," he was pleased to say, "but, if you woulde drink deeplie of the Well-springs of Wisdom, applie to Greek. The Latins have onlie shallow Rivulets; the Greeks, copious Rivers, running over Sands of Gold. Read Plato; he wrote on Marble, with a Diamond; but above alle, read the New Testament. 'Tis the Key to the Kingdom of Heaven."

To Mr. Gunnel, he said smiling, "Have a Care of thyself, dear Gonellus, and take a little Wine for thy Stomach's Sake. The Wages of most Scholars now-a-days, are weak Eyes, Ill-health, an empty Purse, and shorte Commons. I neede only bid thee beware of the two first."

To Bess, "Farewell, Bessy; thank you for mending my bad Latin. When I write to you, I will be sure to signe myselfe, 'Roterodamius.' Farewell, sweete Cecil; let me always continue your 'desired Amiable.' And you, Jacky,—love your Book a little more."

"Jack's deare Mother, not content with her Girls," sayth Father, "was alwaies wishing for a Boy, and at last she had one that means to remain a Boy alle his Life."

"The Dutch Schoolmasters thoughte me dulle and heavie," sayth Erasmus, "soe there is some Hope of Jacky yet." And soe, stepped into the Barge, which we watched to Chelsea Reach. How dulle the House has beene ever since! Rupert and William have had me into the Pavillion to hear the Plot of a Miracle-play they have alreadie begunne to talke over for Christmasse, but it seemed to me downrighte Rubbish. Father sleepes in Town to-nighte, soe we shall be stupid enow. Bessy hath undertaken to work Father a Slipper for his tender Foot; and is happie, tracing for the Pattern our three Moorcocks and Colts; but I am idle and tiresome.

If I had Paper, I woulde beginne my projected Opus; but I dare not ask Gunnel for anie more just yet; nor have anie Money to buy Some. I wish I had a couple of Angels. I think I shall write to Father for them to-morrow; he alwaies likes to heare from us if he is twenty-four Hours absent, providing we conclude not with "I have Nothing more to say."

July 4th.

I have writ my Letter to Father. I almoste wish, now, that I had not sent it.

Rupert and Will still full of theire Moralitie, which reallie has some Fun in it. To ridicule the Extravagance of those who, as the Saying is, carry theire Farms and Fields on theire Backs, William proposes to come in, all verdant, with a reall Model of a Farm on his Back, and a Windmill on his Head.

July 5th.

How sweete, how gracious an Answer from Father! John Harris has broughte me with it the two Angels; less prized than this Epistle.

July 10th.

Sixteenth Birthdaye. Father away, which made it sadde. Mother gave me a payr of blue Hosen with Silk Clocks; Mr. Gunnel, an ivorie-handled Stylus; Bess, a Bodkin for my Hair; Daisy, a Book-mark; Mercy, a Saffron Cake; Jack, a Basket; and Cecil, a Nosegay. William's Present was fayrest of alle, but I am hurte with him and myselfe; for he offered it soe queerlie and tagged it with such ... I refused it, and there's an End. 'Twas unmannerlie and unkinde of me, and I've cried aboute it since.

Father alwaies gives us a Birthdaye Treat; soe, contrived that Mother shoulde take us to see my Lord Cardinal of York goe to Westminster in State. We had a merrie Water-partie; got goode Places and saw the Show; Crosse-bearers, Pillar-bearers, Ushers and alle. Himselfe in crimson engrayned Sattin, and Tippet of Sables, with an Orange in his Hand helde to 's Nose, as though the common Ayr were too vile to breathe. What a pompous Priest it is! The Archbishop mighte well say, "That Man is drunk with too much Prosperitie."

Betweene Dinner and Supper, we had a fine Skirmish in the Straits of Thermopylæ. Mr. Gunnel headed the Persians, and Will was Leonidas, with a swashing Buckler, and a Helmet a Yard high; but Mr. Gunnel gave him such a Rap on the Crest that it went over the Wall; soe then William thought there was Nothing left for him but to die. Howbeit, as he had beene layd low sooner than he had reckoned on, he prolonged his last Agonies a goode deal, and gave one of the Persians a tremendous Kick just as they were aboute to rifle his Pouch. They therefore thoughte there must be Somewhat in it they shoulde like to see; soe, helde him down in spite of his hitting righte and lefte, and pulled therefrom, among sundrie lesser Matters, a carnation Knot of mine. Poor Varlet, I wish he would not be so stupid.

After Supper, Mother proposed a Concert; and we were alle singing a Rounde, when, looking up, I saw Father standing in the Door-way, with such a happy Smile on his Face! He was close behind Rupert and Daisy, who were singing from the same Book, and advertised them of his Coming by gentlie knocking theire Heads together; but I had the firste Kiss, even before Mother, because of my Birthdaye.

July 11th.

It turns out that Father's Lateness Yester-even was caused by Press of Businesse; a forayn Mission having beene proposed to him, which he resisted as long as he could, but was at length reluctantlie induced to accept. Lengthe of his Stay uncertayn, which casts a Gloom on alle; but there is soe much to doe as to leave little Time to think, and Father is busiest of alle; yet hath founde Leisure to concert with Mother for us a Journey into the Country, which will occupy some of the Weeks of his Absence. I am fulle of carefulle Thoughts and Forebodings, being naturallie of too anxious a Disposition. Oh, let me caste alle my Cares on another! Fecisti nos ad te, Domine; et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te.

May 27th, 1523.

'Tis soe manie Months agone since that I made an Entry in my Libellus, as that my Motto, "Nulla Dies sine Linea," hath somewhat of Sarcasm in it. How manie Things doe I beginne and leave unfinisht! and yet, less from Caprice than Lack of Strength; like him of whom the Scripture was writ,—"This Man beganne to build and was not able to finish." My Opus, for instance; the which my Father's prolonged Absence in the Autumn, and my Winter Visitt to Aunt Nan and Aunt Fan gave me such Leisure to carrie forward. But alack! Leisure was less to seeke than Learninge; and when I came back to mine olde Taskes, Leisure was awanting too; and then, by reason of my sleeping in a separate Chamber, I was enabled to steale Hours from the earlie Morn and Hours from the Night, and, like unto Solomon's virtuous Woman, my Candle went not out. But 'twas not to Purpose that I worked, like the virtuous Woman, for I was following a Jack-o-Lantern; having forsooke the straight Path laid downe by Erasmus for a foolish Path of mine owne; and soe I toyled, and blundered, and puzzled, and was mazed; and then came on that Payn in my Head. Father sayd, "What makes Meg soe pale?" and I sayd not: and, at the last, I tolde Mother there was somewhat throbbing and twisting in the Back of mine Head, like unto a little Worm that woulde not die; and she made Answer, "Ah, a Maggot," and soe by her Scoff I was shamed. Then I gave over mine Opus, but the Payn did not yet goe; soe then I was longing for the deare Pleasure, and fondlie turning over the Leaves, and wondering woulde Father be surprised and pleased with it some Daye, when Father himself came in or ever I was aware. He sayth, "What hast thou, Meg?" I faltered and woulde sett it aside. He sayth, "Nay, let me see;" and soe takes it from me; and after the firste Glance throws himself into a Seat, his Back to me, and firste runs it hastilie through, then beginnes with Methode and such Silence and Gravitie as that I trembled at his Side, and felt what it must be to stand a Prisoner at the Bar, and he the Judge. Sometimes I thought he must be pleased, at others not: at lengthe, alle my fond Hopes were ended by his crying, "This will never doe. Poor Wretch, hath this then beene thy Toyl? How couldst find Time for soe much Labour? for here hath beene Trouble enow and to spare. Thou must have stolen it, sweet Meg, from the Night, and prevented the Morning Watch. Most dear'st! thy Father's owne loved Child;" and soe, caressing me till I gave over my Shame and Disappointment.

"I neede not to tell thee, Meg," Father sayth, "of the unprofitable Labour of Sisyphus, nor of drawing Water in a Sieve. There are some Things, most deare one, that a Woman, if she trieth, may doe as well as a Man; and some she cannot, and some she had better not. Now, I tell thee firmlie, since the firste Payn is the leaste sharpe, that, despite the Spiritt and Genius herein shewn, I am avised 'tis Work thou canst not and Work thou hadst better not doe. But judge for thyselfe; if thou wilt persist, thou shalt have Leisure and Quiet, and a Chamber in my new Building, and alle the Help my Gallery of Books may afford. But thy Father says, Forbear."

Soe, what coulde I say, but "My Father shall never speak to me in vayn."

Then he gathered the Papers up and sayd, "Then I shall take Temptation out of your Way;" and pressing 'em to his Heart as he did soe, sayth, "They are as deare to me as they can be to you;" and soe left me, looking out as though I noted (but I noted not) the cleare-shining Thames. 'Twas Twilighte, and I stoode there I know not how long, alone and lonely; with Tears coming, I knew not why, into mine Eyes. There was a Weight in the Ayr, as of coming Thunder; the Screaming, ever and anon, of Juno and Argus, inclined me to Mellancholie, as it alwaies does: and at length I beganne to note the Moon rising, and the deepening Clearnesse of the Water, and the lazy Motion of the Barges, and the Flashes of Light whene'er the Rowers dipt theire Oars. And then I beganne to attend to the Cries and different Sounds from acrosse the Water, and the Tolling of a distant Bell; and I felle back on mine olde heart-sighinge, "Fecisti nos ad te, Domine; et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te."

Or ever the Week was gone, my Father had contrived for me another Journey to New Hall, to abide with the Lay Nuns, as he calleth them, Aunt Nan and Aunt Fan, whom my Step-mother loveth not, but whom I love and whom Father loveth. Indeede, 'tis sayd in Essex that at first he inclined to Aunt Nan rather than to my Mother; but that, perceiving my Mother affected his Companie and Aunt Nan affected it not, he diverted his hesitating Affections unto her and took her to wife. Howbeit, Aunt Nan loveth him dearlie as a Sister ought: indeed, she loveth alle, except, methinketh, herself, to whom, alone, she is rigid and severe. How holie are my Aunts' Lives! Cloistered Nuns could not be more pure, and could scarce be as usefulle. Though wise, they can be gay; though noe longer young, they love the Young. And theire Reward is, the Young love them; and I am fulle sure in this World they seek noe better.

Returned to Chelsea, I spake much in Prayse of mine Aunts, and of single Life. On a certayn Evening, we Maids were sett at our Needles and Samplers on the Pavilion Steps; and, as Follie will out, 'gan talk of what we would fayn have to our Lots, shoulde a good Fairie starte up and grant eache a Wish. Daisy was for a Countess's Degree, with Hawks and Hounds. Bess was for founding a College, Mercy a Hospital, and she spake soe experimentallie of its Conditions that I was fayn to goe Partners with her in the same. Cecy commenced, "Supposing I were married; if once that I were married"—on which, Father, who had come up unperceived, burst out laughing and sayth, "Well, Dame Cecily, and what State would you keep?" Howbeit, as he and I afterwards paced together, juxta Fluvium, he did say, "Mercy hath well propounded the Conditions of an Hospital or Alms-house for aged and sick Folk, and 'tis a Fantasie of mine to sett even such an one afoot, and give you the Conduct of the same."

From this careless Speech, dropped as 'twere by the Way, hath sprung mine House of Refuge! and oh, what Pleasure have I derived from it! How good is my Father! how the Poor bless him! and how kind is he, through them, to me! Laying his Hand kindly on my Shoulder, this Morning, he sayd, "Meg, how fares it with thee now? Have I cured the Payn in thy Head?" Then, putting the House-key into mine Hand, he laughingly added, "'Tis now yours, my Joy, by Livery and Seisin."

Aug. 6th.

I wish William would give me back my Testament. 'Tis one thing to steal a Knot or a Posie, and another to borrow the most valuable Book in the House, and keep it Week after Week. He soughte it with a kind of Mysterie, soe as that I forbeare to ask it of him in Companie, lest I should doe him an ill Turn; and yet I have none other Occasion.

Alle Parties are striving which shall have Erasmus, and alle in vayn. E'en thus it was with him when he was here last,—the Queen would have had him for her Preceptor, the King and Cardinall prest on him a royall Apartment and Salarie, Oxford and Cambridge contended for him, but his Saying was, "Alle these I value less than my Libertie, my Studdies, and my literarie Toyls." How much greater is he than those who woulde confer on him Greatnesse! Noe Man of Letters hath equall Reputation, or is soe much courted.

Aug. 7th.

Yester-even, after overlooking the Men playing at Loggats, Father and I strayed away along Thermopylæ into the Home-field; and as we sauntered together under the Elms, he sayth with a Sigh, "Jack is Jack, and no More ... he will never be anything. An' 'twere not for my beloved Wenches, I should be an unhappy Father. But what though!—My Meg is better unto me than ten Sons; and it maketh no Difference at Harvest-time whether our Corn were put into the Ground by a Man or a Woman."

While I was turning in my Mind what Excuse I might make for John, Father taketh me at unawares by a sudden Change of Subject; saying, "Come, tell me, Meg, why canst not affect Will Roper?"

I was a good while silent, at length made Answer, "He is so unlike alle I esteem and admire ... so unlike alle I have been taught to esteem and admire by you."—

"Have at you," he returned laughing, "I wist not I had been sharpening Weapons agaynst myself. True, he is neither Achilles nor Hector, nor even Paris, but yet well enough, meseems, as Times go—smarter and comelier than either Heron or Dancey."

I, faltering, made Answer, "Good Looks affect me but little—'tis in his better Part I feel the Want. He cannot ... discourse, for instance, to one's Mind and Soul, like unto you, dear Father, or Erasmus."

"I should marvel if he could," returned Father gravelie, "thou art mad, my Daughter, to look, in a Youth of Will's Years, for the Mind of a Man of fifty. What were Erasmus and I, dost thou suppose, at Will's age? Alas, Meg, I should not like you to know what I was! Men called me the Boy-sage, and I know not what, but in my Heart and Head was a World of Sin and Folly. Thou mightst as well expect Will to have my Hair, Eyes, and Teeth, alle getting the worse for Wear, as to have the Fruits of my life-long Experience, in some Cases full dearly bought. Take him for what he is, match him by the young Minds of his owne standing: consider how long and closelie we have known him. His Parts are, surelie, not amiss: he hath more Book-lore than Dancey, more mother Wit than Allington."

"But why need I to concern myself about him?" I exclaymed; "Will is very well in his way: why should we cross each other's Paths? I am young, I have much to learn, I love my Studdies,—why interrupt them with other and less wise Thoughts?"

"Because nothing can be wise that is not practical," returned Father, "and I teach my Children Philosophie to fitt them for living in the World, not above it. One may spend a Life in dreaming over Plato, and yet goe out of it without leaving the World a whit the better for our having made Part of it. 'Tis to little Purpose we studdy, if it onlie makes us exact Perfections in others which they may in vayn seek for in ourselves. It is not even necessary or goode for us to live entirelie with congeniall Spiritts. The vigourous tempers the inert, the passionate is evened by the cool-tempered, the prosaic balances the visionarie. Woulde thy Mother suit me better, dost thou suppose, if she coulde discuss Polemicks like Luther or Melancthon? E'en thine owne sweet Mother, Meg, was less affected to Studdy than thou art,—she learnt to love it for my Sake, but I made her what she was."

And, with a suddain Burste of fond Recollection, he hid his Eyes on my Shoulder, and for a Moment or soe, cried bitterlie. As for me, I shed, oh! such salt Teares!...

Aug. 17th.

Entering, o' the suddain, into Mercy's Chamber, I founde her all be-wept and waped, poring over an old Kirtle of Mother's she had bidden her re-line with Buckram. Coulde not make out whether she were sick of her Task, had had Words with Mother, or had some secret Inquietation of her owne; but, as she is a Girl of few Words, I found I had best leave her alone after a Caress and kind Saying or two. We alle have our Troubles.

Wednesday, 19th.