I was mynded to write no more in ys journall, for verie Shame's sake, yt I shoude so complayne, lyke a Childe, whose toie is taken fm him, butt (mayhapp for it is nowe ye fulle Moone, & a moste greavous period for them yt are Love-strucke) I am fayne, lyke ye Drunkarde who maye not abstayne fm his cupp, to set me anewe to recordinge of My Dolorous mishapp.—When I sawe Her agayn, She beinge aware of my name, & of ye division betwixt oure Houses, wolde have none of me, butt I wolde nott be putt Off, & made bolde to question Her, why She sholde showe me suche exceedg Coldness.—She answer'd, 'twas wel knowne what Wronge my Grandefather had done Her G.father.—I saide, She confounded me with My G.father—we were nott ye same Persone, he beinge muche my Elder, & besydes Deade.—She wd have it, 'twas no matter for jestinge.—I tolde Her, I wolde be resolv'd, what grete Wronge yis was.—Ys more for to make Speache thn for mine owne advertisemt, for I knewe wel ye whole Knaverie, wh. She rehears'd, Howe my G.father had cheated Her G.father of Landes upp ye River, with more, howe my G.father had impounded ye Cattle of Hern.—I made answer, 'twas foolishnesse, in my mynde, for ye iiid Generation to so quarrell over a Parsel of rascallie Landes, yt had long ago beene solde for Taxes, yt as to ye Cowes, I wolde make them goode, & thr Produce & Offspringe, if it tooke ye whole Washtn Markett.—She however tolde me yt ye Ffrenche familie had ye where wal to buye what they lack'd in Butter, Beafe & Milke, and likewise in Veale, wh. laste I tooke much to Hearte, wh. She seeinge, became more gracious &, on my pleadinge, accorded yt I sholde have ye Privilege to speake with Her when we next met.—Butt neyther then, nor at anie other Tyme thafter wolde She suffer me to visitt Her. So I was harde putt to it to compass waies of gettinge to see Her at such Houses as She mighte be att, for Routs or Feasts, or ye lyke.—
But though I sawe Her manie tymes, oure converse was ever of yts Complexn, & ye accursed G.father satt downe, & 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. yts speache I att ye leaste made an End of my Uncertaintie, 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 eache 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 'twere 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 departe fm. ye Towne, & to goe to ye Countrie-House of my Frend, Will Winthrop, who has often intreated me, & has instantlie 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.