he sayd, in a Kind of Wonder, "Why, Moll, whence had you that?—Methought you hated Versing, as you used to call it. When learnt you to love it?" I hung my Head in my old foolish Way, and answered, "Since I learnt to love the Verser." "Why, this is the best of Alle!" he hastilie cried, "Can my sweet Wife be indeede Heart of my Heart and Spirit of my Spirit? I lost, or drove away a Child, and have found a Woman." Thereafter, he less often wifed me, and I found I was agayn sweet Moll.
This Afternoon, Christopher Milton lookt in on us. After saluting me with the usuall Mixture of Malice and Civilitie in his Looks, he fell into easie Conversation; and presentlie says to his Brother quietlie enough, "I saw a curious Pennyworth at a Book-stall as I came along this Morning." "What was that?" says my Husband, brightening up. "It had a long Name," says Christopher,—"I think it was called Tetrachordon." My Husband cast at me a suddain, quick Look, but I did not soe much as change Colour; and quietlie continued my Sewing.
"I wonder," says he, after a Pause, "that you did not invest a small Portion of your Capitall in the Work, as you 'ay 'twas soe greate a Bargain. However, Mr. Kit, let me give you one small Hint with alle the goode Humour imaginable; don't take Advantage of our neare and deare Relation to make too frequent Opportunities of saying to me Anything that woulde certainlie procure for another Man a Thrashing!"
Then, after a short Silence betweene Alle, he suddainlie burst out laughing, and cried, "I know 'tis on the Stalk, I've seene it, Kit, myself! Oh, had you seene, as I did, the Blockheads poring over the Title, and hammering at it while you might have walked to Mile End and back!"
"That's Fame, I suppose," says Christopher drylie; and then goes off to talk of some new Exercise of the Press-licenser's Authoritie, which he seemed to approve, but it kindled my Husband in a Minute.
"What Folly! what Nonsense!" cried he, smiting the Table; "these Jacks in Office sometimes devise such senselesse Things that I really am ashamed of being of theire Party. Licence, indeed! their Licence! I suppose they will shortlie license the Lengthe of Moll's Curls, and regulate the Colour of her Hoode, and forbid the Larks to sing within Sounde of Bow Bell, and the Bees to hum o' Sundays. Methoughte I had broken Mabbot's Teeth two Years agone; but I must bring forthe a new Edition of my Areopagitica; and I'll put your Name down, Kit, for a hundred Copies!"
October, 1646.
Though a rusticall Life hath ever had my Suffrages, Nothing can be more pleasant than our regular Course. We rise at five or sooner: while my Husband combs his Hair, he commonly hums or sings some Psalm or Hymn, versing it, maybe, as he goes on. Being drest, Ned reads him a Chapter in the Hebrew Bible. With Ned stille at his Knee, and me by his Side, he expounds and improves the Same; then, after a shorte, heartie Prayer, releases us both. Before I have finished my Dressing, I hear him below at his Organ, with the two Lads, who sing as well as Choristers, hymning Anthems and Gregorian Chants, now soaring up to the Clouds, as 'twere, and then dying off as though some wide echoing Space lay betweene us. I usuallie find Time to tie on my Hoode and slip away to the Herb-market for a Bunch of fresh Radishes or Cresses, a Sprig of Parsley, or at the leaste a Posy, to lay on his Plate. A good wheaten Loaf, fresh Butter and Eggs, and a large Jug of Milk, compose our simple Breakfast; for he likes not, as my Father, to see Boys hacking a huge Piece of Beef, nor cares for heavie feeding, himself. Onlie, olde Mr. Milton sometimes takes a Rasher of toasted Bacon, but commonly, a Basin of Furmity, which I prepare more to his Minde than the Servants can.
After Breakfast, I well know the Boys' Lessons will last till Noone. I therefore goe to my Closett Duties after my Forest Hill Fashion; thence to Market, buy what I neede, come Home, look to my Maids, give forthe needfulle Stores, then to my Needle, my Books, or perchance to my Lute, which I woulde faine play better. From twelve to one is the Boys' Hour of Pastime; and it may generallie be sayd, my Husband's and mine too. He draws aside the green Curtain,—for we sit mostly in a large Chamber shaped like the Letter T, and thus divided while at our separate Duties: my End is the pleasantest, has the Sun most upon it, and hath a Balcony overlooking a Garden. At one, we dine; always on simple, plain Dishes, but drest with Neatnesse and Care. Olde Mr. Milton sits at my right Hand and says Grace; and, though growing a little deaf, enters into alle the livelie Discourse at Table. He loves me to help him to the tenderest, by Reason of his Losse of Teeth. My Husband careth not to sitt over the Wine; and hath noe sooner finished the Cheese and Pippins than he reverts to the Viol or Organ, and not onlie sings himself, but will make me sing too, though he sayth my Voice is better than my Ear. Never was there such a tunefulle Spiritt. He alwaies tears himself away at laste, as with a Kind of Violence, and returns to his Books at six o' the Clock. Meantime, his old Father dozes, and I sew at his Side.
From six to eight, we are seldom without Friends, chance Visitants, often scholarlike and witty, who tell us alle the News, and remain to partake a light Supper. The Boys enjoy this Season as much as I doe, though with Books before them, their Hands over their Ears, pretending to con the Morrow's Tasks. If the Guests chance to be musicalle, the Lute and Viol are broughte forthe, to alternate with Roundelay and Madrigal: the old Man beating Time with his feeble Fingers, and now and then joining with his quavering Voice. (By the way, he hath not forgotten, to this Hour, my imputed Crime of losing that Song by Harry Lawes: my Husband takes my Part, and sayth it will turn up some Day when leaste expected, like Justinian's Pandects.) Hubert brings him his Pipe and a Glass of Water, and then I crave his Blessing and goe to Bed; first, praying ferventlie for alle beneathe this deare Roof, and then for alle at Sheepscote and Forest Hill.