e shoulde content eache the other; and for the Rest, her Advice
shoulde not be forgotten. Thereat, she was pacyfied.

_May 22d, 1643_.

Alle Bustle and Confusion,--slaying of Poultrie, making of Pastrie,
etc. People coming and going, prest to dine and to sup, and refuse,
and then stay, the colde Meats and Wines ever on the Table; and in the
Evening, the Rebecks and Recorders sent for that we may dance in the
Hall. My Spiritts have been most unequall; and this Evening I was
overtaken with a suddain Faintnesse, such as I never but once before
experienced. They would let me dance no more; and I was quite tired
enoughe to be glad to sit aparte with Mr. _Milton_ neare the Doore,
with the Moon shining on us; untill at length he drew me out into the
Garden. He spake of Happinesse and Home, and Hearts knit in Love, and
of heavenlie Espousals, and of Man being the Head of the Woman, and of
our _Lord's_ Marriage with the Church, and of white Robes, and the
Bridegroom coming in Clouds of Glory, and of the Voices of singing Men
and singing Women, and eternall Spring, and eternall Blisse, and much
that I cannot call to Mind, and other-much that I coulde not
comprehende, but which was in mine ears as the Song of Birds, or
Falling of Waters.

_May 23d, 1643_.

_Rose_ hath come, and hath kindlie offered to help pack the Trunks,
(which are to be sent off by the Waggon to _London_,) that I may have
the more Time to devote to Mr. _Milton_. Nay, but he will soon have
all my Time devoted to himself, and I would as lief spend what little
remains in mine accustomed Haunts, after mine accustomed Fashion. I
had purposed a Ride on _Clover_ this Morning, with _Robin_; but the
poor Boy must I trow be disappointed.

----And for what? Oh me! I have hearde such a long Sermon on
Marriage-duty and Service, that I am faine to sit down and weepe. But
no, I must not, for they are waiting for me in the Hall, and the Guests
are come and the Musick is tuning, and my Lookes must not betray
me.--And now farewell, _Journall_; for _Rose_, who first bade me keepe
you (little deeming after what Fashion), will not pack you up, and I
will not close you with a heavie Strayn. _Robin_ is calling me beneath
the Window,--_Father_ is sitting in the Shade, under the old Pear-tree,
seemingly in gay Discourse with Mr. _Milton_. To-morrow the
Village-bells will ring for the Marriage of

MARY POWELL.

_London,
Mr. Russell's, Taylor,
Bri