The Lord begins to cut us short. We are now on very meagre Commons, dear Mother being obliged to pay fifteen Shillings a week for the Board, poor as it is, of Father and his Servant. She hath parted with her Velvet Gown, embroidered overthwart, to my Lady Sands' Woman. Her Mantle edged with Coney went long ago.
But we lose not Heart; I think mine is becoming annealed in the Furnace, and will not now break. I have writ somewhat after this Fashion to him.... "What do you think, most dear Father, doth comfort us at Chelsea, during this your Absence? Surelie, the Remembrance of your Manner of Life among us, your holy Conversation, your wholesome Counsells, your Examples of Virtue, of which there is Hope that they do not onlie persevere with you, but that, by God's Grace, they are much increast."
I weary to see him.... Yes, we shall meet in Heaven, but how long first, O Lord? how long?
Aug 20th.
Now that I've come back, let me seek to think, to remember.... Sure, my Head will clear by-and-by! Strange, that Feeling shoulde have the Masterdom of Thought and Memory, in Matters it is most concerned to retayn.
... I minded to put the Haircloth and Cord under my Farthingale, and one or two of the smaller Books in my Pouch, as alsoe some Sweets and Suckets such as he was used to love. Will and Bonvisi were a-waiting for me; and deare Bess, putting forthe her Head from her Chamber Door, cries piteously, "Tell him, dear Meg, tell him ... 'twas never soe sad to me to be sick ... and that I hope ... I pray ... the Time may come ..." then falls back swooning into Dancey's Arms, whom I leave crying heartilie over her, and hasten below to receive the confused Medley of Messages sent by every other Member of the House. For mine owne Part, I was in such a tremulous Succussion as to be scarce fitt to stand or goe; but Time and the Tide will noe Man bide, and, once having taken Boat, the cool River Air allayed my fevered Spiritts; onlie I coulde not for awhile get ridd of the Impression of poor Dancey crying over Bess in her Deliquium.
I think none o' the three opened our Lips before we reached Lambeth, save, in the Reach, Will cried to the Steersman, "Look you run us not aground," in a sharper Voyce than I e'er heard from him. After passing the Archbishop's Palace, whereon I gazed full ruefullie, good Bonvisi beganne to mention some Rhymes he had founde writ with a Diamond on one of the Window-panes at Crosby House, and would know were they Father's? and was't the Chamber Father had used to sleep in? I tolde him it was, but knew Nought of the Distich, though 'twas like enow to be his. And thence he went on to this and that, how that Father's cheerfulle, funny Humour never forsook him, nor his brave Heart never quelled; instancing his fearlesse Passage through the Traitor's Gate, asking his Neighbours whether his Gait were that of a Traditor; and, on being sued by the Porter for his upper Garment, giving him his Cap, which he sayd was uppermost. And other such Quips and Passages, which I scarce noted nor smiled at, soe sorry was I of Cheer.
