But though I sawe Her manie tymes, oure converse was ever of yⁱˢ Complexⁿ, & yᵉ accursed G.father satt downe, and rose upp with us.—Yet colde I see by Her aspecte, yᵗ I had in some sorte Her favoure, & yᵗ I mislyk’d Her not so gretelie as She wᵈ have me thinke.—So yᵗ one daie, (’twas in Januarie, & verie colde,) I, beinge moste distrackt, saide to Her, I had tho’t ’twolde pleasure Her more, to be friends w. a man, who had a knave for a G.father, yⁿ with One who had no G.father att alle, lyke Wᵐˢᵒⁿ (yᵉ Puppe).—She made answer, I was exceedinge fresshe, or some such matter. She cloath’d her thoughte in phrase more befittinge a Gentlewoman.—Att this I colde no longer contayne myself, but tolde Her roundlie, I lov’d Her, & ’twas my Love made me soe unmannerlie.—And w. yⁱˢ speache I att yᵉ leaste made an End of my Uncertantie, for She bade me speake w. Her no more.—I wolde be determin’d, whether I was Naught to Her.—She made Answer She colde not justlie say I was Naught, seeing yᵗ whᵉᵛᵉʳ She mighte bee, I was One too manie.—I saide, ’twas some Comforte, I had even a Place in Her thoughtes, were it onlie in Her disfavour.—She saide, my Solace was indeede grete, if it kept pace with yᵉ measure of Her Disfavour, for, in plain Terms, She hated me, & on her intreatinge of me to goe, I went.—Yⁱˢ happ’d att ye house of Mʳˢˢ Varicke, wh. I 1ˢᵗ met Her, who (Mʳˢˢ Varicke) was for staying me, yᵗ I might eate some Ic’d Cream, butt of a Truth I was chill’d to my Taste allreadie.—Albeit I afterwards tooke to walkinge of yᵉ Streets till near Midnight.—’Twas as I saide before in Januarie & exceedinge colde.
20ᵗʰ Maie.
How wearie is yⁱˢ dulle procession of yᵉ Yeare! For it irketh my Soule yᵗ each Monthe shoude come so aptlie after yᵉ Month afore, & Nature looke so Smug, as She had done some grete thinge.—Surelie if she make no Change, she hath work’d no Miracle, for we knowe wel, what we maye look for.—Yᵉ Vine under my Window hath broughte forth Purple Blossoms, as itt hath eache Springe these xii Yeares.—I wolde have had them Redd, or Blue, or I knowe not what Coloure, for I am sicke of likinge of Purple a Dozen Springes in Order.—And wh. moste galls me is yⁱˢ, I knowe howe yⁱˢ sadd Rounde will goe on, & Maie give Place to June, & she to July, & onlie my Hearte blossom not nor my Love growe no greener.
2ⁿᵈ June.
I and my Foolishnesse, we laye Awake last night till yᵉ Sunrise gun, wh. was Shott att 4½ o’ck, & wh. beinge hearde in yᵗ stillnesse fm. an Incredible Distance, seem’d lyke as ’t were a Full Stopp, or Period putt to yⁱˢ Wakinge-Dreminge, whᵃᵗ I did turne a newe Leafe in my Counsells, and after much Meditation, have commenc’t a newe Chapter, wh. I hope maye leade to a better Conclusion, than them yᵗ came afore.—For I am nowe resolv’d, & havinge begunn wil carry to an Ende, yᵗ if I maie not over-come my Passion, I maye at yᵉ least over-com yᵉ Melanchollie, & Spleene, borne yᵒᶠ, & beinge a Lover, be none yᵉ lesse a Man.—To wh. Ende I have come to yⁱˢ Resolution, to depart fm. yᵉ Towne, & to goe to yᵉ Countrie-House of my Frend, Will Winthrop, who has often intreated me, & has instantly urg’d, yᵗ I sholde make him a Visitt.—And I take much Shame to myselfe, yᵗ I have not given him yⁱˢ Satisfaction since he was married, wh. is nowe ii Yeares.—A goode Fellowe, & I minde me a grete Burden to his Frends when he was in Love, in wh. Plight I mockt him, who am nowe, I much feare me, mockt myselfe.
3ʳᵈ June.
Pack’d my cloathes, beinge Sundaye. Yᵉ better yᵉ Daie, yᵉ better yᵉ Deede.
4ᵗʰ June.
Goe downe to Babylon to-daye.