Father is bold enow in her Absence, but when she comes back will leave me to face her Anger alone; or else, make such a Stir to shew that he is not governed by a Woman, as wille make Things worse. Meanwhile, how woulde I have them? Am I most pleased or payned? dismayed or flattered? Indeed, I know not.

I am soe sorry to have swooned. Needed I have done it, merelie to heare there was one who soughte my Favour? Aye, but one so wise! so thoughtfulle ! so unlike me!

Bedtime; same Daye.

HO knoweth what a Daye will bring forth? After writing the above, I sate like one stupid, ruminating on I know not what, except on the Unlikelihood that

one soe wise woulde trouble himselfe to seeke for aught and yet fail to win. After abiding a long Space in mine owne Chamber,

Chamber, alle below seeming still, I began to wonder shoulde we dine alone or not, and to have a hundred hot and cold Fitts of Hope and Feare. Thought I, if Mr. Milton comes, assuredlie I cannot goe down; but yet I must; but yet I will not; but yet the best will be to conduct myselfe as though nothing had happened; and, as he seems to have left the House long ago, maybe he hath returned to Sheepscote, or even to London. Oh that London! Shall I indeede ever see it? and the rare Shops, and the Play-houses, and St. Paul's, and the Towre? But what and if that ever comes to pass ? Must I leave Home? dear Forest Hill? and Father and Mother, and the Boys? more especiallie Robin? Ah! but Father will give me a long Time to think of it. He will, and

must.

Then Dinner-time came; and, with Dinner-time, Uncle Hewlett and Ralph, Squire Paice and Mr. Milton. We had a huge Sirloin, soe no Feare of short Commons. I was not ill pleased to see soe

manie :

manie: it gave me an Excuse for holding my Peace, but I coulde have wished for another Woman. However, Father never thinks of that, and Mother will soone be Home. After Dinner the elder Men went to the Bowling-greene with Dick and Ralph; the Boys to the Fish-ponds; and, or ever I was aware, Mr. Milton was walking with me on the Terrace. My Dreame came soe forcibly to Mind, that my Heart seemed to leap into my Mouth; but he kept away from the Fish-ponds, and from Leave - taking, and from his morning Discourse with my Father,—at least for awhile; but some Way he got round to it, and sayd soe much, and soe well, that, after alle my Father's bidding me keepe quiete and take my Time, and mine owne Resolution to think much and long, he never rested till he had changed the whole Appearance of Things, and made me promise to be his, wholly and trulie.— And oh! I feare I have been too quickly wonne !

May