I should thinke, belonged to faire Rosamond. And this Arm-chair to King Lear. Over the Chimnie hangs a ruefull Portrait,-maybe of Grotius, but I shoulde sooner deeme it of some Worthie before the Flood. Onlie one Quarter of the Casement will open, and that upon a Prospect, oh dolefulle! of the Churchyarde. Mr. Milton had need be as blythe as he was all the Time we were at Sheepscote, or I shall be buried in that same Churchyarde within the Twelvemonth. "Tis well he has stepped out to see a Friend, that I may in his Absence get ridd of this Fit of the Dismalls. I wish it may be the last. What would Mother say to his bringing me to such a Home as this? I will not think. Soe this is London! How diverse from the "towred Citie" of my Husband's versing! and of his Prose too; for as he spake, by the way, of the Disorders of our Time, which extend even into eache domestick Circle, he sayd that alle must, for a While, appear confused to our imperfect View, just as as a mightie Citie unto a Stranger who shoulde beholde around him huge, unfinished Fabrics, the Plan whereof he could but imperfectlie make out, amid the Builders' disorderlie Apparatus; but that, from afar, we mighte perceive glorious Results from party Contentions,— Freedom springing up from Opression, Intelligence succeeding Ignorance, Order following Disorder, just as that same Traveller looking at the Citie from a distant Height, should beholde Towres, and Spires glistering with Gold and Marble, Streets stretching in lessening Perspectives, and Bridges flinging their white Arches over noble Rivers. But what of this saw we all along the Oxford Road? Firstlie, there was noe commanding Height; second, there was the Citie obscured by a drizzling Rain; the Ways were foul, the Faces of those we mett spake less of Pleasure than Business, and Bells were tolling, but none ringing. Mr. Milton's Father, a grey-haired, kind old Man, was here to give us welcome: and 66 and his firste Words were, "Why, John, "thou hast stolen a March on us. Soe quickly, too, and soe snug! But she "is faire enoughe, Man, to excuse thee, Royalist or noe." 66 And soe, taking me in his Arms, kist me franklie.-But I heare my Husband's Voice, and another with it. WAS a Mr. Thursday. whom my Husband brought Home last Nighte to sup; and the Evening passed righte pleasantlie, with News, Jestes, and a little Musicke. Todaye hath been kindlie devoted by Mr. Milton to shewing me Sights and oh! the strange, diverting Cries in the Streets, even from earlie Dawn! "New Milk and Curds from the Dairie!"" Olde Shoes for some "Brooms!". "Anie Kitchen-stuffe, have you, Maids?"-" Come buy my greene "Herbes!"-and then in the Streets, 66 here here a Man preaching, there another juggling here a Boy with an Ape, there a Show of Nineveh: next the News from the North; and as for the China Shops and Drapers in the Strand, and the Cook's Shops in Westminster, with the smoking Ribs of Beef and fresh Salads set out on Tables in the Street, and Men in white Aprons crying out, "Calf's Liver, Tripe, "and hot Sheep's Feet "-'twas enoughe to make One untimelie hungrie,—or take One's Appetite away, as the Case might be. Mr. Milton shewed me the noble Minster, with King Harry Seventh's Chapel adjoining; and pointed out the old House where Ben Jonson died. Neare the Broade Sanctuarie, we fell in with a slighte, dark-complexioned young Gentleman of two or three and twenty, whome my Husband espying cryed, “What, "Marvell?" the other comically answering, "What Marvel?" and then, handsomlie saluting me and complimenting Mr. Milton, much lighte and pleasant Discourse ensued; and finding we were aboute |