THE HOUSEHOLD OF SIR THOS MORE

Chelsea, June 18th.

On asking Mr. Gunnel to what Use I should put this fayr Libellus, he did suggest my making it a Kinde of family Register, wherein to note the more important of our domestick Passages, whether of Joy or Griefe—my Father's Journies and Absences—the Visits of learned Men, theire notable Sayings, etc. "You are ready at the Pen, Mistress Margaret," he was pleased to say; "and I woulde humblie advise your journalling in the same fearless Manner in the which you framed that Letter which soe well pleased the Bishop of Exeter, that he sent you a Portugal Piece. 'Twill be well to write it in English, which 'tis expedient for you not altogether to negleckt, even for the more honourable Latin."

Methinks I am close upon Womanhood.... "Humblie advise," quotha! to me, that have so oft humblie sued for his Pardon, and sometimes in vayn!

'Tis well to make trial of Gonellus his "humble" Advice: albeit, our daylie Course is so methodicall, that 'twill afford scant Subject for the Pen—Vitam continet una Dies.

... As I traced the last Word, methoughte I heard the well-known Tones of Erasmus his pleasant Voyce; and, looking forthe of my Lattice, did indeede beholde the deare little Man coming up from the River Side with my Father, who, because of the Heat, had given his Cloak to a tall Stripling behind him to bear. I flew up Stairs, to advertise Mother, who was half in and half out of her grogram Gown, and who stayed me to clasp her Owches; so that, by the Time I had followed her down Stairs, we founde 'em alreadie in the Hall.

So soon as I had kissed their Hands, and obtayned their Blessings, the tall Lad stept forthe, and who should he be but William Roper, returned from my Father's Errand over-seas! He hath grown hugelie, and looks mannish; but his Manners are worsened insteade of bettered by forayn Travell; for, insteade of his old Franknesse, he hung upon Hand till Father bade him come forward; and then, as he went his Rounds, kissing one after another, stopt short when he came to me, twice made as though he would have saluted me, and then held back, making me looke so stupid, that I could have boxed his Ears for his Payns. 'Speciallie as Father burst out a-laughing, and cried, "The third Time's lucky!"

After Supper, we took deare Erasmus entirely over the House, in a Kind of family Procession, e'en from the Buttery and Scalding-house to our own deare Academia, with its cool green Curtain flapping in the Evening Breeze, and blowing aside, as though on Purpose to give a glimpse of the cleare-shining Thames! Erasmus noted and admired the Stone Jar, placed by Mercy Giggs on the Table, full of blue and yellow Irises, scarlet Tiger-Lilies, Dog-Roses, Honeysuckles, Moonwort, and Herb-Trinity; and alsoe our various Desks, eache in its own little Retirement,—mine own, in speciall, so pleasantly situate! He protested, with everie Semblance of Sincerity, he had never seene so pretty an Academy. I should think not, indeede! Bess, Daisy, and I, are of Opinion, that there is not likelie to be such another in the World. He glanced, too, at the Books on our Desks; Bessy's being Livy; Daisy's, Sallust; and mine, St. Augustine, with Father's Marks where I was to read, and where desist. He tolde Erasmus, laying his Hand fondlie on my Head, "Here is one who knows what is implied in the Word Trust." Dear Father, well I may! He added, "there was no Law against laughing in his Academia, for that his Girls knew how to be merry and wise."

From the House to the new Building, the Chapel and Gallery, and thence to visitt all the dumb Kinde, from the great horned Owls to Cecy's pet Dormice. Erasmus was amused at some of theire Names, but doubted whether Duns Scotus and the Venerable Bede would have thoughte themselves complimented in being made Name-fathers to a couple of Owls; though he admitted that Argus and Juno were goode Cognomens for Peacocks. Will Roper hath broughte Mother a pretty little forayn Animal called a Marmot, but she sayd she had noe Time for suchlike Playthings, and bade him give it to his little Wife. Methinks, I being neare sixteen and he close upon twenty, we are too old for those childish Names now, nor am I much flattered at a Present not intended for me; however, I shall be kind to the little Creature, and, perhaps, grow fond of it, as 'tis both harmlesse and diverting.

To return, howbeit, to Erasmus; Cecy, who had hold of his Gown, and had alreadie, through his familiar Kindnesse and her own childish Heedlessness, somewhat transgrest Bounds, began now in her Mirthe to fabricate a Dialogue, she pretended to have overhearde, between Argus and Juno as they stoode pearcht on a stone Parapet. Erasmus was entertayned with her Garrulitie for a while, but at length gentlie checkt her, with "Love the Truth, little Mayd, love the Truth, or, if thou liest, let it be with a Circumstance," a Qualification which made Mother stare and Father laugh.

Sayth Erasmus, "There is no Harm in a Fabella, Apologus, or Parabola, so long as its Character be distinctlie recognised for such, but contrariwise, much Goode; and the same hath been sanctioned, not only by the wiser Heads of Greece and Rome, but by our deare Lord Himself. Therefore, Cecilie, whom I love exceedinglie, be not abasht, Child, at my Reproof, for thy Dialogue between the two Peacocks was innocent no less than ingenious, till thou wouldst have insisted that they, in sooth, sayd Something like what thou didst invent. Therein thou didst Violence to the Truth, which St. Paul hath typified by a Girdle, to be worn next the Heart, and that not only confineth within due Limits, but addeth Strength. So now be Friends; wert thou more than eleven and I no Priest, thou shouldst be my little Wife, and darn my Hose, and make me sweet Marchpane, such as thou and I love. But, oh! this pretty Chelsea! What Daisies! what Buttercups! what joviall Swarms of Gnats! The Country all about is as nice and flat as Rotterdam."

Anon, we sit down to rest and talk in the Pavilion.

Sayth Erasmus to my Father, "I marvel you have never entered into the King's Service in some publick Capacitie, wherein your Learning and Knowledge, bothe of Men and Things, would not onlie serve your own Interest, but that of your Friends and the Publick."

Father smiled and made Answer, "I am better and happier as I am. As for my Friends, I alreadie do for them alle I can, soe as they can hardlie consider me in their Debt; and, for myself, the yielding to theire Solicitations that I would putt myself forward for the Benefit of the World in generall, would be like printing a Book at Request of Friends, that the Publick may be charmed with what, in Fact, it values at a Doit. The Cardinall offered me a Pension, as retaining Fee to the King a little while back, but I tolde him I did not care to be a mathematical Point, to have Position without Magnitude."

Erasmus laught and sayd, "I woulde not have you the Slave of anie King; howbeit, you mighte assist him and be useful to him."

"The Change of the Word," sayth Father, "does not alter the Matter; I should be a Slave, as completely as if I had a Collar rounde my Neck."

"But would not increased Usefulnesse," says Erasmus, "make you happier?"

"Happier?" says Father, somewhat heating; "how can that be compassed in a Way so abhorrent to my Genius? At present, I live as I will, to which very few Courtiers can pretend. Half-a-dozen blue-coated Serving-Men answer my Turn in the House, Garden, Field, and on the River: I have a few strong Horses for Work, none for Show, plenty of plain Food for a healthy Family, and enough, with a hearty Welcome, for a score of Guests that are not dainty. The lengthe of my Wife's Train infringeth not the Statute; and, for myself, I soe hate Bravery, that my Motto is, 'Of those whom you see in Scarlet, not one is happy.' I have a regular Profession, which supports my House, and enables me to promote Peace and Justice; I have Leisure to chat with my Wife, and sport with my Children; I have Hours for Devotion, and Hours for Philosophie and the liberall Arts, which are absolutelie medicinall to me, as Antidotes to the sharpe but contracted Habitts of Mind engendered by the Law. If there be aniething in a Court Life which can compensate for the Losse of anie of these Blessings, deare Desiderius, pray tell me what it is, for I confesse I know not."

"You are a comicall Genius," says Erasmus.

"As for you," retorted Father, "you are at your olde Trick of arguing on the wrong Side, as you did the firste Time we mett. Nay, don't we know you can declaime backward and forwarde on the same Argument, as you did on the Venetian War?"

Erasmus smiled quietlie, and sayd, "What coulde I do? The Pope changed his holy Mind." Whereat Father smiled too.

"What Nonsense you learned Men sometimes talk!" pursues Father. "I—wanted at Court, quotha! Fancy a dozen starving Men with one roasted Pig betweene them;—do you think they would be really glad to see a Thirteenth come up, with an eye to a small Piece of the Crackling? No; believe me, there is none that Courtiers are more sincerelie respectfull to than the Man who avows he hath no Intention of attempting to go Shares; and e'en him they care mighty little about, for they love none with true Tendernesse save themselves."

"We shall see you at Court yet," says Erasmus.

Sayth Father, "Then I will tell you in what Guise. With a Fool's Cap and Bells. Pish! I won't aggravate you, Churchman as you are, by alluding to the Blessings I have which you have not; and I trow there is as much Danger in taking you for serious when you are onlie playful and ironicall as if you were Plato himself."

Sayth Erasmus, after some Minutes' Silence, "I know full well that you holde Plato, in manie Instances, to be sporting when I accept him in very Deed and Truth. Speculating he often was; as a brighte, pure Flame must needs be struggling up, and, if it findeth no direct Vent, come forthe of the Oven's Mouth. He was like a Man shut into a Vault, running hither and thither, with his poor, flickering Taper, agonizing to get forthe, and holding himself in readinesse to make a Spring forward the Moment a Door should open. But it never did. 'Not manie Wise are called.' He had clomb a Hill in the Darke, and stoode calling to his Companions below, 'Come on, come on! this Way lies the East; I am avised we shall see the Sun rise anon.' But they never did. What a Christian he woulde have made! Ah! he is one now. He and Socrates—the Veil long removed from their Eyes—are sitting at Jesus' Feet. Sancte Socrates, ora pro nobis!"

Bessie and I exchanged Glances at this so strange Ejaculation; but the Subjeckt was of such Interest, that we listened with deep Attention to what followed.

Sayth Father, "Whether Socrates were what Plato painted him in his Dialogues, is with me a great Matter of Doubte; but it is not of Moment. When so many Contemporaries coulde distinguishe the fancifulle from the fictitious, Plato's Object could never have beene to deceive. There is something higher in Art than gross Imitation. He who attempteth it is always the leaste successfull; and his Failure hath the Odium of a discovered Lie; whereas, to give an avowedlie fabulous Narrative a Consistence within itselfe which permitts the Reader to be, for the Time, voluntarilie deceived, is as artfulle as it is allowable. Were I to construct a Tale, I woulde, as you sayd to Cecy, lie with a Circumstance, but shoulde consider it noe Compliment to have my Unicorns and Hippogriffs taken for live Animals. Amicus Plato, amicus Socrates, magis tamen amica Veritas. Now, Plato had a much higher Aim than to give a very Pattern of Socrates his snub Nose. He wanted a Peg to hang his Thoughts upon——"

"A Peg? A Statue by Phidias," interrupts Erasmus.

"A Statue by Phidias, to clothe in the most beautiful Drapery," sayth Father; "no Matter that the Drapery was his own, he wanted to show it to the best Advantage, and to the Honour rather than Prejudice of the Statue. And, having clothed the same, he got a Spark of Prometheus his Fire, and made the aforesayd Statue walk and talk, to the Glory of Gods and Men, and sate himself quietlie down in a Corner. By the Way, Desiderius, why shouldst thou not submitt thy Subtletie to the Rules of a Colloquy? Set Eckius and Martin Luther by the Ears! Ha! Man, what Sport! Heavens! if I were to compound a Tale or a Dialogue, what Crotchets and Quips of mine own woulde I not putt into my Puppets' Mouths! and then have out my Laugh behind my Vizard, as when we used to act Burlesques before Cardinall Morton. What rare Sporte we had, one Christmas, with a Mummery we called the 'Triall of Feasting'! Dinner and Supper were broughte up before my Lord Chief Justice, charged with Murder. Theire Accomplices were Plum-pudding, Mince-pye, Surfeit, Drunkenness, and suchlike. Being condemned to hang by the Neck, I, who was Supper, stuft out with I cannot tell you how manie Pillows, began to call lustilie for a Confessor, and, on his stepping forthe, commenct a List of all the Fitts, Convulsions, Spasms, Payns in the Head, and so forthe, I had inflicted on this one and t'other. 'Alas! good Father,' says I, 'King John layd his Death at my Door;—indeede, there's scarce a royall or noble House that hath not a Charge agaynst me; and I'm sorelie afrayd' (giving a Poke at a fat Priest that sate at my Lord Cardinall's Elbow) 'I shall have the Death of that holy Man to answer for.'"

Erasmus laughed, and sayd, "Did I ever tell you of the retort of Willibald Pirkheimer? A Monk, hearing him praise me somewhat lavishly to another, could not avoid expressing by his Looks great Disgust and Dissatisfaction; and, on being askt whence they arose, confest he could not, with Patience, heare the Commendation of a Man soe notoriously fond of eating Fowls. 'Does he steal them?' says Pirkheimer. 'Surely no,' says the Monk. 'Why, then,' quoth Willibald, 'I know of a Fox who is ten times the greater Rogue; for, look you, he helps himself to many a fat Hen from my Roost without ever offering to pay me. But tell me now, dear Father, is it then a Sin to eat Fowls?' 'Most assuredlie it is,' says the Monk, 'if you indulge in them to Gluttony.' 'Ah! if, if!' quoth Pirkheimer. 'If stands stiff, as the Lacedemonians told Philip of Macedon; and 'tis not by eating Bread alone, my dear Father, you have acquired that huge Paunch of yours. I fancy, if all the fat Fowls that have gone into it could raise their Voices and cackle at once, they woulde make Noise enow to drown the Drums and Trumpets of an army.' Well may Luther say," continued Erasmus, laughing, "that theire fasting is easier to them than our eating to us; seeing that every Man Jack of them hath to his Evening Meal two Quarts of Beer, a Quart of Wine, and as manie as he can eat of Spice Cakes, the better to relish his Drink. While I ... 'tis true my Stomach is Lutheran, but my Heart is Catholic; that's as Heaven made me, and I'll be judged by you alle, whether I am not as thin as a Weasel."

'Twas now growing dusk, and Cecy's tame Hares were just beginning to be on the alert, skipping across our Path, as we returned towards the House, jumping over one another, and raysing 'emselves on theire hind Legs to solicitt our Notice. Erasmus was amused at theire Gambols, and at our making them beg for Vine-tendrils; and Father told him there was hardlie a Member of the Householde who had not a dumb Pet of some Sort. "I encourage the Taste in them," he sayd, "not onlie because it fosters Humanitie and affords harmlesse Recreation, but because it promotes Habitts of Forethoughte and Regularitie. No Child or Servant of mine hath Liberty to adopt a Pet which he is too lazy or nice to attend to himself. A little Management may enable even a young Gentlewoman to do this, without soyling her Hands; and to negleckt giving them proper Food at proper Times entayls a Disgrace of which everie one of 'em would be ashamed. But, hark! there is the Vesper-bell."

As we passed under a Pear-tree, Erasmus told us, with much Drollerie, of a Piece of boyish Mischief of his,—the Theft of some Pears off a particular Tree, the Fruit of which the Superior of his Convent had meant to reserve to himself. One Morning, Erasmus had climbed the Tree, and was feasting to his great Content, when he was aware of the Superior approaching to catch him in the Fact; soe, quickly slid down to the Ground, and made off in the opposite Direction, limping as he went. The Malice of this Act consisted in its being the Counterfeit of the Gait of a poor lame Lay Brother, who was, in fact, smartlie punisht for Erasmus his Misdeede. Our Friend mentioned this with a Kinde of Remorse, and observed to my Father,—"Men laugh at the Sins of young People and little Children, as if they were little Sins; albeit, the Robbery of an Apple or Cherry-orchard is as much a breaking of the Eighth Commandment as the stealing of a Leg of Mutton from a Butcher's Stall, and ofttimes with far less Excuse. Our Church tells us, indeede, of Venial Sins, such as the Theft of an Apple or a Pin; but, I think," (looking hard at Cecilie and Jack,) "even the youngest among us could tell how much Sin and Sorrow was brought into the World by stealing an Apple."

At Bedtime, Bess and I did agree in wishing that alle learned Men were as apt to unite Pleasure with Profit in theire Talk as Erasmus. There be some that can write after the Fashion of Paul, and others preach like unto Apollos; but this, methinketh, is scattering Seed by the Wayside, like the Great Sower.

Tuesday.

'Tis singular, the Love that Jack and Cecy have for one another; it resembleth that of Twins. Jack is not forward at his Booke; on the other Hand, he hath a Resolution of Character which Cecy altogether wants. Last Night, when Erasmus spake of Children's Sins, I observed her squeeze Jack's Hand with alle her Mighte. I know what she was thinking of. Having bothe beene forbidden to approach a favourite Part of the River Bank which had given way from too much Use, one or the other of 'em transgressed, as was proven by the smalle Footprints in the Mud, as well as by a Nosegay of Flowers, that grow not, save by the River; to wit, Purple Loosestrife, Cream-and-codlins, Scorpion-grass, Water Plantain, and the like. Neither of 'em woulde confesse, and Jack was, therefore, sentenced to be whipt. As he walked off with Mr. Drew, I observed Cecy turn soe pale, that I whispered Father I was certayn she was guilty. He made Answer, "Never mind, we cannot beat a Girl, and 'twill answer the same Purpose; in flogging him, we flog both." Jack bore the firste Stripe or two, I suppose, well enow, but at lengthe we hearde him cry out, on which Cecy coulde not forbeare to doe the same, and then stopt bothe her Ears. I expected everie Moment to heare her say, "Father, 'twas I;" but no, she had not Courage for that; onlie, when Jack came forthe all smirched with Tears, she put her Arm about his Neck, and they walked off together into the Nuttery. Since that Hour, she hath beene more devoted to him than ever, if possible; and he, Boy-like, finds Satisfaction in making her his little Slave. But the Beauty lay in my Father's Improvement of the Circumstance. Taking Cecy on his Knee that Evening, (for she was not ostensiblie in Disgrace,) he beganne to talk of Atonement and Mediation for Sin, and who it was that bare our Sins for us on the Tree. 'Tis thus he turns the daylie Accidents of our quiet Lives into Lessons of deepe Import, not pedanticallie delivered, ex cathedrâ, but welling forthe from a full and fresh Mind.

This Morn I had risen before Dawn, being minded to meditate on sundrie Matters before Bess was up and doing, she being given to much Talk during her dressing, and made my Way to the Pavilion, where, methought, I should be quiet enow; but beholde! Father and Erasmus were there before me, in fluent and earneste Discourse. I would have withdrawne, but Father, without interrupting his Sentence, puts his Arm rounde me and draweth me to him; soe there I sit, my Head on 's Shoulder, and mine Eyes on Erasmus his Face.

From much they spake, and othermuch I guessed, they had beene conversing on the present State of the Church, and how much it needed Renovation.

Erasmus sayd, the Vices of the Clergy and Ignorance of the Vulgar had now come to a Poynt, at the which, a Remedie must be founde, or the whole Fabric would falle to Pieces.

—Sayd, the Revival of Learning seemed appoynted by Heaven for some greate Purpose, 'twas difficulte to say how greate.

—Spake of the new Art of Printing, and its possible Consequents.

—Of the active and fertile Minds at present turning up new Ground and ferreting out old Abuses.

—Of the Abuse of Monachism, and of the evil Lives of Conventualls. In special, of the Fanaticism and Hypocrisie of the Dominicans.

Considered the Evills of the Times such, as that Societie must shortlie, by a vigorous Effort, shake 'em off.

Wondered at the Patience of the Laitie for soe many Generations, but thoughte 'em now waking from theire Sleepe. The People had of late begunne to know theire physickall Power, and to chafe at the Weighte of theire Yoke.

Thoughte the Doctrine of Indulgences altogether bad and false.

Father sayd, that the graduallie increast Severitie of Church Discipline concerning minor Offences had become such as to render Indulgences the needfulle Remedie for Burthens too heavie to be borne.—Condemned a Draconic Code, that visitted even Sins of Discipline with the extream Penaltie. Quoted how ill such excessive Severitie answered in our owne Land, with regard to the Civill Law; twenty Thieves oft hanging together on the same Gibbet, yet Robberie noe Whit abated.

Othermuch to same Purport, the which, if alle set downe, woulde too soon fill my Libellus. At length, unwillinglie brake off, when the Bell rang us to Matins.

At Breakfaste, William and Rupert were earneste with my Father to let 'em row him to Westminster, which he was disinclined to, as he was for more Speede, and had promised Erasmus an earlie Caste to Lambeth; howbeit, he consented that they should pull us up to Putney in the Evening, and William should have the Stroke-oar. Erasmus sayd, he must thank the Archbishop for his Present of a Horse; "tho' I'm full faine," he observed, "to believe it a Changeling. He is idle and gluttonish, as thin as a Wasp, and as ugly as Sin. Such a Horse, and such a Rider!"

In the Evening Will and Rupert had made 'emselves spruce enow, with Nosegays and Ribbons, and we tooke Water bravelie;—John Harris in the Stern, playing the Recorder. We had the six-oared Barge; and when Rupert Allington was tired of pulling, Mr. Clement tooke his Oar; and when he wearied, John Harris gave over playing the Pipe; but William and Mr. Gunnel never flagged.

Erasmus was full of his Visitt to the Archbishop, who, as usuall, I think, had given him some Money.

"We sate down two hundred to Table," sayth he; "there was Fish, Flesh, and Fowl; but Wareham onlie played with his Knife, and drank noe Wine. He was very cheerfulle and accessible; he knows not what Pride is; and yet, of how much mighte he be proude! What Genius! What Erudition! what Kindnesse and Modesty! From Wareham, who ever departed in Sorrow?"

Landing at Fulham, we had a brave Ramble thro' the Meadows. Erasmus, noting the poor Children a gathering the Dandelion and Milk-thistle for the Herb-market, was avised to speak of forayn Herbes and theire Uses, bothe for Food and Medicine.

"For me," says Father, "there is manie a Plant I entertayn in my Garden and Paddock which the Fastidious woulde caste forthe. I like to teache my Children the Uses of common Things—to know, for Instance, the Uses of the Flowers and Weeds that grow in our Fields and Hedges. Manie a poor Knave's Pottage woulde be improved, if he were skilled in the Properties of the Burdock and Purple Orchis, Lady's-smock, Brook-lime, and Old Man's Pepper. The Roots of Wild Succory and Water Arrow-head mighte agreeablie change his Lenten Diet; and Glasswort afford him a Pickle for his Mouthfulle of Salt-meat. Then, there are Cresses and Wood-sorrel to his Breakfast, and Salep for his hot evening Mess. For his Medicine, there is Herb-twopence, that will cure a hundred Ills; Camomile, to lull a raging Tooth; and the Juice of Buttercup to cleare his Head by sneezing. Vervain cureth Ague; and Crowfoot affords the leaste painfulle of Blisters. St. Anthony's Turnip is an Emetic; Goose-grass sweetens the Blood; Woodruffe is good for the Liver; and Bindweed hath nigh as much Virtue as the forayn Scammony. Pimpernel promoteth Laughter; and Poppy, Sleep: Thyme giveth pleasant Dreams; and an Ashen Branch drives evil Spirits from the Pillow. As for Rosemarie, I lett it run alle over my Garden Walls, not onlie because my Bees love it, but because 'tis the Herb sacred to Remembrance, and, therefore, to Friendship, whence a Sprig of it hath a dumb Language that maketh it the chosen Emblem at our Funeral Wakes, and in our Buriall Grounds. Howbeit, I am a Schoolboy prating in Presence of his Master, for here is John Clement at my Elbow, who is the best Botanist and Herbalist of us all."

—Returning Home, the Youths being warmed with rowing, and in high Spiritts, did entertayn themselves and us with manie Jests and Playings upon Words, some of 'em forced enow, yet provocative of Laughing. Afterwards, Mr. Gunnel proposed Enigmas and curious Questions. Among others, he woulde know which of the famous Women of Greece or Rome we Maidens would resemble. Bess was for Cornelia, Daisy for Clelia, but I for Damo, Daughter of Pythagoras, which William Roper deemed stupid enow, and thoughte I mighte have found as good a Daughter, that had not died a Maid. Sayth Erasmus, with his sweet, inexpressible Smile, "Now I will tell you, Lads and Lasses, what manner of Man I would be, if I were not Erasmus. I woulde step back some few Years of my Life, and be half-way 'twixt thirty and forty; I would be pious and profounde enow for the Church, albeit noe Churchman; I woulde have a blythe, stirring, English Wife, and half-a-dozen merrie Girls and Boys, an English Homestead, neither Hall nor Farm, but betweene both; neare enow to the Citie for Convenience, but away from its Noise. I woulde have a Profession, that gave me some Hours daylie of regular Businesse, that should let Men know my Parts, and court me into Publick Station, for which my Taste made me rather withdrawe. I woulde have such a private Independence, as should enable me to give and lend, rather than beg and borrow. I woulde encourage Mirthe without Buffoonerie, Ease without Negligence; my Habitt and Table shoulde be simple, and for my Looks I woulde be neither tall nor short, fat nor lean, rubicund nor sallow, but of a fayr Skin with blue Eyes, brownish Beard, and a Countenance engaging and attractive, soe that alle of my Companie coulde not choose but love me."

"Why, then, you woulde be Father himselfe," cries Cecy, clasping his Arm in bothe her Hands with a Kind of Rapture; and, indeede, the Portraiture was soe like, we coulde not but smile at the Resemblance.

Arrived at the Landing, Father protested he was wearie with his Ramble; and, his Foot slipping, he wrenched his Ankle, and sate for an Instante on a Barrow, the which one of the Men had left with his Garden-tools, and before he could rise or cry out, William, laughing, rolled him up to the House-door; which, considering Father's Weight, was much for a Stripling to doe. Father sayd the same, and, laying his Hand on Will's Shoulder with Kindnesse, cried, "Bless thee, my Boy, but I woulde not have thee overstrayned like Biton and Cleobis."

June 20.

T his Morn, hinting to Bess that she was lacing herselfe too straitlie, she brisklie replyed, "One would think 'twere as great Meritt to have a thick Waiste as to be one of the earlie Christians!"

These humourous Retorts are ever at her Tongue's end; and albeit, as Jacky one Day angrilie remarked when she had beene teazing him, "Bess, thy Witt is Stupidnesse;" yet, for one who talks soe much at Random, no one can be more keene when she chooseth. Father sayd of her, half fondly, half apologeticallie, to Erasmus, "Her Wit hath a fine Subtletie that eludes you almoste before you have Time to recognize it for what it really is." To which Erasmus readilie assented, adding, that it had the rare Meritt of playing less on Persons than Things, and never on bodilie Defects.

Hum!—I wonder if they ever sayd as much in Favour of me. I know, indeede, Erasmus calls me a forward Girl. Alas! that may be taken in two Senses.

Grievous Work, overnighte, with the churning. Nought would persuade Gillian but that the Creame was bewitched by Gammer Gurney, who was dissatisfyde last Friday with her Dole, and hobbled away mumping and cursing. At alle Events, the Butter would not come; but Mother was resolute not to have soe much good Creame wasted; soe sent for Bess and me, Daisy and Mercy Giggs; and insisted on our churning in turn till the Butter came, if we sate up alle Night for 't. 'Twas a hard Saying; and mighte have hampered her like as Jephtha his rash Vow: howbeit, soe soone as she had left us, we turned it into a Frolick, and sang Chevy Chase from end to end, to beguile Time; ne'erthelesse, the Butter would not come; soe then we grew sober, and, at the Instance of sweete Mercy, chaunted the 119th Psalme; and, by the Time we had attained to "Lucerna Pedibus," I hearde the Buttermilk separating and splashing in righte earneste. 'Twas neare Midnighte, however; and Daisy had fallen asleep on the Dresser. Gillian will ne'er be convinced but that our Latin brake the Spell.

21st.

Erasmus went to Richmond this Morning with Polus, (for soe he Latinizes Reginald Pole, after his usual Fashion,) and some other of his Friends. On his Return, he made us laugh at the following. They had clomb the Hill, and were admiring the Prospect, when Pole, casting his Eyes aloft, and beginning to make sundrie Gesticulations, exclaimed, "What is it I beholde? May Heaven avert the Omen!" with suchlike Exclamations, which raised the Curiositie of alle. "Don't you beholde," cries he, "that enormous Dragon flying through the Sky? his Horns of Fire? his curly Tail?"

"No," says Erasmus, "nothing like it. The Sky is as cleare as unwritten Paper."

Howbeit, he continued to affirme and to stare, untill at lengthe, one after another, by dint of strayning theire Eyes and theire Imaginations, did admitt, first, that they saw Something; next, that it mighte be a Dragon; and last, that it was. Of course, on theire Passage homeward, they could talk of little else—some made serious Reflections; others, philosophicall Speculations; and Pole waggishly triumphed in having beene the Firste to discerne the Spectacle.

"And you trulie believe there was a Signe in the Heavens?" we inquired of Erasmus.

"What know I?" returned he smiling; "you know, Constantine saw a Cross. Why shoulde Polus not see a Dragon? We must judge by the Event. Perhaps its Mission may be to fly away with him. He swore to the curly Tail."

How difficulte it is to discerne the supernatural from the incredible! We laughe at Gillian's Faith in our Latin; Erasmus laughs at Polus his Dragon. Have we a righte to believe noughte but what we can see or prove? Nay, that will never doe. Father says a Capacitie for reasoning increaseth a Capacitie for believing. He believes there is such a Thing as Witchcraft, though not that poore olde Gammer Gurney is a Witch; he believes that Saints can work Miracles, though not in alle the Marvels reported of the Canterbury Shrine.

Had I beene Justice of the Peace, like the King's Grandmother, I would have beene very jealous of Accusations of Witchcraft; and have taken infinite Payns to sift out the Causes of Malice, Jealousie, &c., which mighte have wroughte with the poore olde Women's Enemies. Holie Writ sayth, "Thou shalt not suffer a Witch to live;" but, questionlesse, manie have suffered Hurte that were noe Witches; and for my Part, I have alwaies helde ducking to be a very uncertayn as well as very cruel Teste.

I cannot helpe smiling, whenever I think of my Rencounter with William this Morning. Mr. Gunnell had set me Homer's tiresome List of Ships; and, because of the excessive Heate within Doors, I took my Book into the Nuttery, to be beyonde the Wrath of far-darting Phœbus Apollo, where I clomb into my favourite Filbert Seat. Anon comes William through the Trees without seeing me; and seats him at the Foot of my Filbert; then, out with his Tablets, and, in a Posture I should have called studdied, had he known anie one within Sighte, falls a poetizing, I question not. Having noe Mind to be interrupted, I lett him be, thinking he would soone exhaust the Vein; but a Caterpillar dropping from the Leaves on to my Page, I was fayn, for Mirthe sake, to shake it down on his Tablets. As ill Luck would have it, however, the little Reptile onlie fell among his Curls; which soe took me at Vantage that I coulde not helpe hastilie crying, "I beg your Pardon." 'Twas worth a World to see his Start! "Why!" cries he, looking up, "are there indeede Hamadryads?" and would have gallanted a little, but I bade him hold down his Head, while that with a Twig I switched off the Caterpillar. Neither coulde forbeare laughing; and then he sued me to step downe, but I was minded to abide where I was. Howbeit, after a Minute's Pause, he sayd, in a grave, kind Tone, "Come, little Wife;" and taking mine Arm steadilie in his Hand, I lost my Balance and was faine to come down whether or noe. We walked for some Time juxta Fluvium; and he talked not badlie of his Travels, insomuch as I founde there was really more in him than one would think.

—Was there ever Aniething soe perverse, unluckie, and downrighte disagreeable? We hurried our Afternoone Tasks, to goe on the Water with my Father; and, meaning to give Mr. Gunnel my Latin Traduction, which is in a Booke like unto this, I never knew he had my Journalle insteade, untill that he burst out a laughing. "Soe this is the famous Libellus," quoth he.... I never waited for another Word, but snatcht it out of his Hand; which he, for soe strict a Man, bore well enow. I do not believe he could have read a Dozen Lines, and they were towards the Beginning; but I should hugelie like to know which Dozen Lines they were.

Hum! I have a Mind never to write another Word. That will be punishing myselfe, though, insteade of Gunnel. And he bade me not take it to Heart like the late Bishop of Durham, to whom a like Accident befel, which soe annoyed him that he died of Chagrin. I will never again, howbeit, write Aniething savouring ever soe little of Levitie or Absurditie. The Saints keepe me to it! And, to know it from my Exercise Book, I will henceforthe bind a blue Ribbon round it. Furthermore, I will knit the sayd Ribbon in soe close a Knot, that it shall be worth no one else's Payns to pick it out. Lastlie, and for entire Securitie, I will carry the Same in my Pouch, which will hold bigger Matters than this.

22nd.

This Daye, at Dinner, Mr. Clement tooke the Pistoller's Place at the Reading-desk; and, insteade of continuing the Subject in Hand, read a Paraphrase of the 103rde Psalm; the Faithfulnesse and elegant Turne of which, Erasmus highlie commended, though he took Exceptions to the Phrase "renewing thy Youth like that of the Phœnix," whose fabulous Story he believed to have beene unknowne to the Psalmist, and, therefore, however poeticall, unfitt to be introduced. A deepe Blush on sweet Mercy's Face ledd to the Detection of the Paraphrast, and drew on her some deserved Commendations. Erasmus, turning to my Father, exclaymed with Animation, "I woulde call this House the Academy of Plato, were it not Injustice to compare it to a Place where the usuall Disputations concerning Figures and Numbers were onlie occasionallie intersperst with Disquisitions concerning the moral Virtues." Then, in a graver Mood, he added, "One mighte envie you, but that your precious Privileges are bound up with soe paynfulle Anxieties. How manie Pledges have you given to Fortune!"

"If my Children are to die out of the Course of Nature, before theire Parents," Father firmly replyed, "I would rather they died well-instructed than ignorant."

"You remind me," rejoyns Erasmus, "of Phocion; whose Wife, when he was aboute to drink the fatal Cup, exclaimed, 'Ah, my Husband! you die innocent.' 'And woulde you, my Wife,' he returned, 'have me die guilty?'"

Awhile after, Gonellus askt leave to see Erasmus his Signet-ring, which he handed down to him. In passing it back, William, who was occupyde in carving a Crane, handed it so negligentlie that it felle to the Ground. I never saw such a Face as Erasmus made, when 'twas picked out from the Rushes! And yet, ours are renewed almost daylie, which manie think over nice. He took it gingerlie in his faire, Woman-like Hands, and washed and wiped it before he put it on; which escaped not my Step-mother's displeased notice. Indeede, these Dutchmen are scrupulouslie cleane, though Mother calls 'em swinish, because they will eat raw Sallets; though, for that Matter, Father loves Cresses and Ramps. She alsoe mislikes Erasmus for eating Cheese and Butter together with his Manchet; or what he calls Boetram; and for being, generallie, daintie at his Sizes, which she sayth is an ill Example to soe manie young People, and becometh not one with soe little Money in 's Purse: howbeit, I think 'tis not Nicetie, but a weak Stomach, which makes him loathe our Salt-meat Commons from Michaelmasse to Easter, and eschew Fish of the coarser Sort. He cannot breakfaste on colde Milk, like Father, but liketh Furmity a little spiced. At Dinner, he pecks at, rather than eats, Ruffs and Reeves, Lapwings, or anie smalle Birds it may chance; but affects Sweets and Subtilties, and loves a Cup of Wine or Ale, stirred with Rosemary. Father never toucheth the Wine-cup but to grace a Guest, and loves Water from the Spring. We growing Girls eat more than either; and Father says he loves to see us slice away at the Cob-loaf; it does him goode. What a kind Father he is! I wish my Step-mother were as kind. I hate all sneaping and snubbing, flowting, fleering, pinching, nipping, and such-like; it onlie creates Resentment insteade of Penitence, and lowers the Minde of either Partie. Gillian throws a Rolling-pin at the Turnspit's Head, and we call it Low-life; but we looke for such Unmannerlinesse in the Kitchen. A Whip is onlie fit for Tisiphone.

As we rose from Table, I noted Argus pearcht on the Window-sill, eagerlie watching for his Dinner, which he looketh for as punctuallie as if he could tell the Diall; and to please the good, patient Bird, till the Scullion broughte him his Mess of Garden-stuff, I fetched him some Pulse, which he took from mine Hand, taking good Heede not to hurt me with his sharp Beak. While I was feeding him, Erasmus came up, and asked me concerning Mercy Giggs; and I tolde him how that she was a friendlesse Orphan, to whom deare Father afforded Protection and the run of the House; and tolde him of her Gratitude, her Meekness, her Patience, her Docilitie, her Aptitude for alle goode Works and Alms-deeds; and how, in her little Chamber, she improved eache spare Moment in the Way of Studdy and Prayer. He repeated "Friendlesse? she cannot be called Friendlesse, who hath More for her Protector, and his Children for Companions;" and then woulde heare more of her Parents' sad Story. Alsoe, would hear somewhat of Rupert Allington, and how Father gained his Lawsuit. Alsoe, of Daisy, whose Name he tooke to be the true Abbreviation for Margaret, but I tolde him how that my Step-sister, and Mercy, and I, being all three of a Name, and I being alwaies called Meg, we had in Sport given one the Significative of her characteristic Virtue, and the other that of the French Marguerite, which may indeed be rendered either Pearl or Daisy. And Chaucer, speaking of our English Daisy, saith

"Si douce est la Marguerite."

23rd.

Since the little Wisdom I have Capacitie to acquire, soe oft gives me the Headache to Distraction, I marvel not at Jupiter's Payn in his Head, when the Goddess of Wisdom sprang therefrom full growne.

This Morn, to quiet the Payn brought on by too busie Application, Mr. Gunnel would have me close my Book and ramble forth with Cecy into the Fields. We strolled towards Walham Greene; and she was seeking for Shepherd's Purses and Shepherd's Needles, when she came running back to me, looking rather pale. I askt what had scared her, and she made answer that Gammer Gurney was coming along the Hedge. I bade her set aside her Feares; and anon we came up with Gammer, who was pulling at the purple Blossoms of the Deadly Nightshade. I sayd, "Gammer, to what Purpose gather that Weed? knowest not 'tis Evill?"

She sayth, mumbling, "What God hath created, that call not thou evill."

"Well, but," quo' I, "'tis Poison."

"Aye, and Medicine too," returns Gammer. "I wonder what we poor Souls might come to, if we tooke Nowt for our Ails and Aches but what we could buy o' the Potticary. We've got noe Dr. Clement, we poor Folks, to be our Leech o' the Household."

"But hast no Feare," quo' I, "of an Over-dose?"

"There's manie a Doctor," sayth she, with an unpleasant Leer, "that hath given that at first. In Time he gets his Hand in; and I've had a Plenty o' Practice—Thanks to Self and Sister."

"I knew not," quoth I, "that thou hadst a Sister."

"How should ye, Mistress," returns she shortlie, "when ye never comes nigh us? We've grubbed on together this many a Year."

"'Tis soe far," I returned, half ashamed.

"Why, soe it be," answers Gammer; "far from Neighbours, far from Church, and far from Priest; howbeit, my old Legs carries me to your House o' Fridays; but I know not whether I shall e'er come agayn—the Rye Bread was soe hard last Time; it may serve for young Teeth, and for them as has got none; but mine, you see, are onlie on the goe;" and she opened her Mouth with a ghastly Smile. "'Tis not," she added, "that I'm ungratefulle; but thou sees, Mistress, I really can't eat Crusts."

After a Moment, I asked, "Where lies your Dwelling?"

"Out by yonder," quoth she, pointing to a shapeless Mass like a huge Bird's Nest in the Corner of the Field. "There bides poor Joan and I. Wilt come and looke within, Mistress, and see how a Christian can die?"

I mutelie complyed, in spite of Cecy's pulling at my Skirts. Arrived at the wretched Abode, which had a Hole for its Chimney, and another for Door at once and Window, I found, sitting in a Corner, propped on a Heap of Rushes, dried Leaves, and olde Rags, an aged sick Woman, who seemed to have but a little While to live. A Mug of Water stoode within her Reach; I saw none other Sustenance; but, in her Visage, oh, such Peace!... Whispers Gammer with an awfulle Look, "She sees 'em now!"

"Sees who?" quoth I.

"Why, Angels in two long Rows, afore the Throne of God, a bending of themselves, this Way, with theire Faces to th' Earth, and Arms stretched out afore 'em."

"Hath she seen a Priest?" quoth I.

"Lord love ye," returns Gammer, "what coulde a Priest doe for her? She's in Heaven alreadie. I doubte if she can heare me." And then, in a loud, distinct Voyce, quite free from her usuall Mumping, she beganne to recite in English, "Blessed is every one that feareth the Lord, and walketh in his Ways," etc.; which the dying Woman hearde, although alreadie speechlesse; and reaching out her feeble Arm unto her Sister's Neck, she dragged it down till their Faces touched; and then, looking up, pointed at Somewhat she aimed to make her see ... and we alle looked up, but saw Noughte. Howbeit, she pointed up three severall Times, and lay, as it were, transfigured before us, a gazing at some transporting Sighte, and ever and anon turning on her Sister Looks of Love; and, the While we stoode thus agaze, her Spiritt passed away without even a Thrill or a Shudder. Cecy and I beganne to weepe; and, after a While, soe did Gammer; then, putting us forthe, she sayd, "Goe, Children, goe; 'tis noe goode crying; and yet I'm thankfulle to ye for your Teares."

I sayd, "Is there Aught we can doe for thee?"

She made Answer, "Perhaps you can give me Tuppence, Mistress, to lay on her poor Eyelids and keep 'em down. Bless 'ee, bless 'ee! You're like the good Samaritan—he pulled out Twopence. And maybe, if I come to 'ee To-morrow, you'll give me a Lapfulle of Rosemarie, to lay on her poor Corpse.... I know you've Plenty. God be with 'ee, Children; and be sure ye mind how a Christian can die."

Soe we left, and came Home sober enow. Cecy sayth, "To die is not soe fearfulle, Meg, as I thoughte, but shoulde you fancy dying without a Priest? I shoulde not; and yet Gammer sayd she wanted not one. Howbeit, for certayn, Gammer Gurney is noe Witch, or she would not soe prayse God."

To conclude, Father, on hearing Alle, hath given Gammer more than enow for her present Needes; and Cecy and I are the Almoners of his Mercy.

June 24th.

Yesternighte, being St. John's Eve, we went into Town to see the mustering of the Watch. Mr. Rastall had secured us a Window opposite the King's Head, in Chepe, where theire Majestys went in State to see the Show. The Streets were a Marvell to see, being like unto a Continuation of fayr Bowres or Arbours, garlanded acrosse and over the Doors with greene Birch, long Fennel, Orpin, St. John's Wort, white Lilies, and such like; with innumerable Candles intersperst, the which, being lit up as soon as 'twas Dusk, made the Whole look like enchanted Land; while, at the same Time, the leaping over Bon-fires commenced, and produced Shouts of Laughter. The Youths woulde have had Father goe downe and joyn 'em; Rupert, speciallie, begged him hard, but he put him off with, "Sirrah, you Goose-cap, dost think 'twoulde befitt the Judge of the Sheriffs' Court?"

At length, to the Sound of Trumpets, came marching up Cheapside two Thousand of the Watch, in white Fustian, with the City Badge; and seven hundred Cressett Bearers, eache with his Fellow to supplie him with Oyl, and making, with theire flaring Lights, the Night as cleare as Daye. After 'em, the Morris-dancers and City Waites; the Lord Mayor on horseback, very fine, with his Giants and Pageants; and the Sheriff and his Watch, and his Giants and Pageants. The Streets very uproarious on our way back to the Barge, but the homeward Passage delicious; the Nighte Ayre cool; and the Stars shining brightly. Father and Erasmus had some astronomick Talk; howbeit, methoughte Erasmus less familiar with the heavenlie Bodies than Father is. Afterwards they spake of the King, but not over-freelie, by reason of the Bargemen overhearing. Thence, to the ever-vext Question of Martin Luther, of whome Erasmus spake in Terms of earneste, yet qualifyde Prayse.

"If Luther be innocent," quoth he, "I woulde not run him down by a wicked Faction; if he be in Error, I woulde rather have him reclaymed than destroyed; for this is most agreeable to the Doctrine of our deare Lord and Master, who woulde not bruise the broken Reede, nor quenche the smoking Flax." And much more to same Purpose.

We younger Folks felle to choosing our favourite Mottoes and Devices, in which the Elders at length joyned us. Mother's was loyal—"Cleave to the Crown though it hang on a Bush." Erasmus's pithie—"Festina lente." William sayd he was indebted for his to St. Paul—"I seeke not yours, but you." For me, I quoted one I had seene in an olde Countrie Church, "Mieux être que paroître," which pleased Father and Erasmus much.

June 25th.

Poor Erasmus caughte colde on the Water last Nighte, and keeps House to-daye, taking warm Possets. 'Tis my Week of Housekeeping under Mother's Guidance, and I never had more Pleasure in it; delighting to suit his Taste in sweete Things, which, methinks, all Men like. I have enow of Time left for Studdy, when alle's done.

He hathe beene the best Part of the Morning in our Academia, looking over Books and Manuscripts, taking Notes of some, discoursing with Mr. Gunnel on others; and, in some Sorte, interrupting our Morning's Work; but how pleasantlie! Besides, as Father sayth, "Varietie is not always Interruption. That which occasionallie lets and hinders our accustomed Studdies, may prove to the ingenious noe less profitable than theire Studdies themselves."

They beganne with discussing the Pronunciation of Latin and Greek, on which Erasmus differeth much from us, though he holds to our Pronunciation of the Theta. Thence, to the absurde Partie of the Ciceronians now in Italie, who will admit noe Author save Tully to be read nor quoted, nor any Word not in his Writings to be used. Thence to the Latinitie of the Fathers, of whose Style he spake slightlie enow, but rated Jerome above Augustine. At length, to his Greek and Latin Testament, of late issued from the Presse, and the incredible Labour it hath cost him to make it as perfect as possible: on this Subject he so warmed that Bess and I listened with suspended Breath. "May it please God," sayth he, knitting ferventlie his Hands, "to make it a Blessing to all Christendom! I look for noe other Reward. Scholars and Believers yet unborn may have Reason to thank, and yet may forget Erasmus." He then went on to explain to Gunnel what he had much felt in want of, and hoped some Scholar might yet undertake; to wit, a Sort of Index Bibliorum, showing in how manie Passages of Holy Writ occurreth anie given Word, etc.; and he e'en proposed it to Gunnel, saying 'twas onlie the Work of Patience and Industry, and mighte be layd aside, and resumed as Occasion offered, and completed at Leisure, to the great Thankfullenesse of Scholars. But Gunnel onlie smiled and shooke his Head. Howbeit, Erasmus set forth his Scheme soe playnlie, that I, having a Pen in Hand, did privilie note down alle the Heads of the same, thinking, if none else would undertake it, why should not I? since Leisure and Industrie were alone required, and since 'twoulde be soe acceptable to manie, 'speciallie to Erasmus.

June 29th.

Hearde Mother say to Barbara, "Be sure the Sirloin is well basted for the King's Physician;" which avised me that Dr. Linacre was expected. In Truth, he returned with Father in the Barge; and they tooke a Turn on the River Bank before sitting down to Table. I noted them from my Lattice; and anon, Father, beckoning me, cries, "Child, bring out my favourite Treatyse on Fisshynge, printed by Wynkyn de Worde; I must give the Doctor my loved Passage."

Joyning 'em with the Booke, I found Father telling him of the Roach, Dace, Chub, Barbel, etc., we oft catch opposite the Church; and hastilie turning over the Leaves, he beginneth with Unction to read the Passage ensuing, which I love to the full as much as he:—

He observeth, if the Angler's Sport shoulde fail him, "he at the best hathe his holsom Walk and mery at his Ease, a swete Ayre of the swete Savour of the Meade of Flowers, that maketh him hungry; he heareth the melodious Harmonie of Fowles, he seeth the young Swans, Herons, Ducks, Cotes, and manie other Fowles, with theire Broods, which me seemeth better than alle the Noise of Hounds, Faukenors, and Fowlers can make. And if the Angler take Fysshe, then there is noe Man merrier than he is in his Spryte." And, "Ye shall not use this foresaid crafty Disporte for no covetysnesse in the encreasing and sparing of your Money onlie, but pryncipallie for your Solace, and to cause the Health of your Bodie, and speciallie of your Soule, for when ye purpose to goe on your Disportes of Fysshynge, ye will not desire greatlie manie Persons with you, which woulde lett you of your Game. And thenne ye may serve God devoutlie, in saying affectuouslie your customable Prayer; and thus doing, ye shall eschew and voyd manie Vices."

More reading Wynkyn de Worde.

"Angling is itselfe a Vice," cries Erasmus, from the Thresholde; "for my Part I will fish none, save and except for pickled Oysters."

"In the Regions below," answers Father; and then laughinglie tells Linacre of his firste Dialogue with Erasmus, who had beene feasting in my Lord Mayor's Cellar:—"'Whence come you?' 'From below.' 'What were they about there?' 'Eating live Oysters, and drinking out of Leather Jacks.' 'Either you are Erasmus,' etc. 'Either you are More or Nothing.'"

"'Neither more nor less,' you should have rejoyned," sayth the Doctor.

"How I wish I had!" says Father; "don't torment me with a Jest I might have made and did not make; 'speciallie to put downe Erasmus."

"Concedo nulli," sayth Erasmus.

"Why are you so lazy?" asks Linacre; "I am sure you can speak English if you will."

"Soe far from it," sayth Erasmus, "that I made my Incapacitie an Excuse for declining an English Rectory. Albeit, you know how Wareham requited me; saying, in his kind, generous Way, I served the Church more by my Pen than I coulde by preaching Sermons in a countrie Village."

Sayth Linacre, "The Archbishop hath made another Remark, as much to the Purpose: to wit, that he has received from you the Immortalitie which Emperors and Kings cannot bestow."

"They cannot even bid a smoking Sirloin retain its Heat an Hour after it hath left the Fire," sayth Father. "Tilly-vally! as my good Alice says,—let us remember the universal Doom, 'Fruges consumere nati,' and philosophize over our Ale and Bracket."

"Not Cambridge Ale, neither," sayth Erasmus.

"Will you never forget that unlucky Beverage?" sayth Father. "Why, Man, think how manie poor Scholars there be, that content themselves, as I have hearde one of St. John's declare, with a penny piece of Beef amongst four, stewed into Pottage with a little Salt and Oatmeal; and that after fasting from four o'clock in the Morning! Say Grace for us this Daye, Erasmus, with goode Heart."

At Table, Discourse flowed soe thicke and faste that I mighte aim in vayn to chronicle it—and why should I? dwelling as I doe at the Fountayn Head? Onlie that I find Pleasure, alreadie, in glancing over the foregoing Pages whensoever they concern Father and Erasmus, and wish they were more faithfullie recalled and better writ. One Thing sticks by me,—a funny Reply of Father's to a Man who owed him Money and who put him off with "Memento Morieris." "I bid you," retorted Father, "Memento Mori Æris, and I wish you woulde take as goode Care to provide for the one as I do for the other."

Linacre laughed much at this, and sayd,—"That was real Wit; a Spark struck at the Moment; and with noe Ill-nature in it, for I am sure your Debtor coulde not help laughing."

"Not he," quoth Erasmus. "More's Drollerie is like that of a young Gentlewoman of his Name, which shines without burning," ... and, oddlie enow, he looked acrosse at me. I am sure he meant Bess.

July 1st.

Father broughte home a strange Guest to-daye,—a converted Jew, with grizzlie Beard, furred Gown, and Eyes that shone like Lamps lit in dark Cavernes. He had beene to Benmarine and Tremeçen, to the Holie Citie and to Damascus, to Urmia and Assyria, and I think alle over the knowne World; and tolde us manie strange Tales, one hardlie knew how to believe; as, for Example, of a Sea-coast Tribe, called the Balouches, who live on Fish and build theire Dwellings of the Bones. Alsoe, of a Race of his Countriemen beyond Euphrates who believe in Christ, but know nothing of the Pope; and of whom were the Magians that followed the Star. This agreeth not with our Legend. He averred that, though soe far apart from theire Brethren, theire Speech was the same, and even theire Songs; and he sang or chaunted one which he sayd was common among the Jews alle over the World, and had beene soe ever since theire Citie was ruinated and the People captivated, and yet it was never sett down in Prick-song. Erasmus, who knows little or nought of Hebrew, listened to the Words with Curiositie, and made him repeate them twice or thrice: and though I know not the Character, it seemed to me they sounded thus:—

Though Christianish, he woulde not eat Pig's Face; and sayd Swine's Flesh was forbidden by the Hebrew Law for its unwholesomenesse in hot Countries and hot Weather, rather than by way of arbitrarie Prohibition. Daisy took a great Dislike to this Man, and woulde not sit next him.

In the Hay-field alle the Evening. Swathed Father in a Hay-rope, and made him pay the Fine, which he pretended to resist. Cecy was just about to cast one round Erasmus, when her Heart failed and she ran away, colouring to the Eyes. He sayd, he never saw such pretty Shame. Father reclining on the Hay, with his Head on my Lap and his Eyes shut, Bess asked if he were asleep. He made answer, "Yes, and dreaming." I askt, "Of what?" "Of a far-off future Daye, Meg; when thou and I shall looke back on this Hour, and this Hay-field, and my Head on thy Lap."

"Nay, but what a stupid Dream, Mr. More," says Mother. "Why, what woulde you dreame of, Mrs. Alice?" "Forsooth, if I dreamed at alle, when I was wide awake, it shoulde be of being Lord Chancellor at the leaste." "Well, Wife, I forgive thee for not saying at the most. Lord Chancellor, quotha! And you woulde be Dame Alice, I trow, and ride in a Whirlecote, and keep a Spanish Jennet, and a Couple of Greyhounds, and wear a Train before and behind, and carry a Jerfalcon on your Fist." "On my Wrist." "No, that's not such a pretty Word as t'other! Go to, go!"

Straying from the others, to a remote Corner of the Meadow, or ever I was aware, I came close upon Gammer Gurney, holding Somewhat with much Care. "Give ye good den, Mistress Meg," quoth she, "I cannot abear to rob the Birds of theire Nests; but I knows you and yours be kind to dumb Creatures, soe here's a Nest o' young Owzels for ye—and I can't call 'em dumb nowther, for they'll sing bravelie some o' these Days." "How hast fared, of late, Gammer?" quoth I. "Why, well enow for such as I," she made Answer; "since I lost the Use o' my right Hand, I can nowther spin, nor nurse sick Folk, but I pulls Rushes, and that brings me a few Pence, and I be a good Herbalist; onlie, because I says one or two English Prayers, and hates the Priests, some Folks thinks me a Witch." "But why dost hate the Priests?" quoth I. "Never you mind," she gave Answer, "I've Reasons manie; and for my English Prayers, they were taught me by a Gentleman I nursed, that's now a Saint in Heaven, along with poor Joan."

And soe she hobbled off, and I felt kindlie towards her, I scarce knew why—perhaps because she spake soe lovingly of her dead Sister, and because of that Sister's Name. My Mother's Name was Joan.

July 2nd.

Erasmus is gone. His last Saying to Father was, "They will have you at Court yet;" and Father's Answer, "When Plato's Year comes round."

To me he gave a Copy, how precious! of his Testament. "You are an elegant Latinist, Margaret," he was pleased to say, "but, if you woulde drink deeplie of the Well-springs of Wisdom, applie to Greek. The Latins have onlie shallow Rivulets; the Greeks, copious Rivers, running over Sands of Gold. Read Plato; he wrote on Marble, with a Diamond; but above alle, read the New Testament. 'Tis the Key to the Kingdom of Heaven."

To Mr. Gunnel, he said smiling, "Have a Care of thyself, dear Gonellus, and take a little Wine for thy Stomach's Sake. The Wages of most Scholars now-a-days, are weak Eyes, Ill-health, an empty Purse, and shorte Commons. I neede only bid thee beware of the two first."

To Bess, "Farewell, Bessy; thank you for mending my bad Latin. When I write to you, I will be sure to signe myselfe, 'Roterodamius.' Farewell, sweete Cecil; let me always continue your 'desired Amiable.' And you, Jacky,—love your Book a little more."

"Jack's deare Mother, not content with her Girls," sayth Father, "was alwaies wishing for a Boy, and at last she had one that means to remain a Boy alle his Life."

"The Dutch Schoolmasters thoughte me dulle and heavie," sayth Erasmus, "soe there is some Hope of Jacky yet." And soe, stepped into the Barge, which we watched to Chelsea Reach. How dulle the House has beene ever since! Rupert and William have had me into the Pavillion to hear the Plot of a Miracle-play they have alreadie begunne to talke over for Christmasse, but it seemed to me downrighte Rubbish. Father sleepes in Town to-nighte, soe we shall be stupid enow. Bessy hath undertaken to work Father a Slipper for his tender Foot; and is happie, tracing for the Pattern our three Moorcocks and Colts; but I am idle and tiresome.

If I had Paper, I woulde beginne my projected Opus; but I dare not ask Gunnel for anie more just yet; nor have anie Money to buy Some. I wish I had a couple of Angels. I think I shall write to Father for them to-morrow; he alwaies likes to heare from us if he is twenty-four Hours absent, providing we conclude not with "I have Nothing more to say."

July 4th.

I have writ my Letter to Father. I almoste wish, now, that I had not sent it.

Rupert and Will still full of theire Moralitie, which reallie has some Fun in it. To ridicule the Extravagance of those who, as the Saying is, carry theire Farms and Fields on theire Backs, William proposes to come in, all verdant, with a reall Model of a Farm on his Back, and a Windmill on his Head.

July 5th.

How sweete, how gracious an Answer from Father! John Harris has broughte me with it the two Angels; less prized than this Epistle.

July 10th.

Sixteenth Birthdaye. Father away, which made it sadde. Mother gave me a payr of blue Hosen with Silk Clocks; Mr. Gunnel, an ivorie-handled Stylus; Bess, a Bodkin for my Hair; Daisy, a Book-mark; Mercy, a Saffron Cake; Jack, a Basket; and Cecil, a Nosegay. William's Present was fayrest of alle, but I am hurte with him and myselfe; for he offered it soe queerlie and tagged it with such ... I refused it, and there's an End. 'Twas unmannerlie and unkinde of me, and I've cried aboute it since.

Father alwaies gives us a Birthdaye Treat; soe, contrived that Mother shoulde take us to see my Lord Cardinal of York goe to Westminster in State. We had a merrie Water-partie; got goode Places and saw the Show; Crosse-bearers, Pillar-bearers, Ushers and alle. Himselfe in crimson engrayned Sattin, and Tippet of Sables, with an Orange in his Hand helde to 's Nose, as though the common Ayr were too vile to breathe. What a pompous Priest it is! The Archbishop mighte well say, "That Man is drunk with too much Prosperitie."

Betweene Dinner and Supper, we had a fine Skirmish in the Straits of Thermopylæ. Mr. Gunnel headed the Persians, and Will was Leonidas, with a swashing Buckler, and a Helmet a Yard high; but Mr. Gunnel gave him such a Rap on the Crest that it went over the Wall; soe then William thought there was Nothing left for him but to die. Howbeit, as he had beene layd low sooner than he had reckoned on, he prolonged his last Agonies a goode deal, and gave one of the Persians a tremendous Kick just as they were aboute to rifle his Pouch. They therefore thoughte there must be Somewhat in it they shoulde like to see; soe, helde him down in spite of his hitting righte and lefte, and pulled therefrom, among sundrie lesser Matters, a carnation Knot of mine. Poor Varlet, I wish he would not be so stupid.

After Supper, Mother proposed a Concert; and we were alle singing a Rounde, when, looking up, I saw Father standing in the Door-way, with such a happy Smile on his Face! He was close behind Rupert and Daisy, who were singing from the same Book, and advertised them of his Coming by gentlie knocking theire Heads together; but I had the firste Kiss, even before Mother, because of my Birthdaye.

July 11th.

It turns out that Father's Lateness Yester-even was caused by Press of Businesse; a forayn Mission having beene proposed to him, which he resisted as long as he could, but was at length reluctantlie induced to accept. Lengthe of his Stay uncertayn, which casts a Gloom on alle; but there is soe much to doe as to leave little Time to think, and Father is busiest of alle; yet hath founde Leisure to concert with Mother for us a Journey into the Country, which will occupy some of the Weeks of his Absence. I am fulle of carefulle Thoughts and Forebodings, being naturallie of too anxious a Disposition. Oh, let me caste alle my Cares on another! Fecisti nos ad te, Domine; et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te.

May 27th, 1523.

'Tis soe manie Months agone since that I made an Entry in my Libellus, as that my Motto, "Nulla Dies sine Linea," hath somewhat of Sarcasm in it. How manie Things doe I beginne and leave unfinisht! and yet, less from Caprice than Lack of Strength; like him of whom the Scripture was writ,—"This Man beganne to build and was not able to finish." My Opus, for instance; the which my Father's prolonged Absence in the Autumn, and my Winter Visitt to Aunt Nan and Aunt Fan gave me such Leisure to carrie forward. But alack! Leisure was less to seeke than Learninge; and when I came back to mine olde Taskes, Leisure was awanting too; and then, by reason of my sleeping in a separate Chamber, I was enabled to steale Hours from the earlie Morn and Hours from the Night, and, like unto Solomon's virtuous Woman, my Candle went not out. But 'twas not to Purpose that I worked, like the virtuous Woman, for I was following a Jack-o-Lantern; having forsooke the straight Path laid downe by Erasmus for a foolish Path of mine owne; and soe I toyled, and blundered, and puzzled, and was mazed; and then came on that Payn in my Head. Father sayd, "What makes Meg soe pale?" and I sayd not: and, at the last, I tolde Mother there was somewhat throbbing and twisting in the Back of mine Head, like unto a little Worm that woulde not die; and she made Answer, "Ah, a Maggot," and soe by her Scoff I was shamed. Then I gave over mine Opus, but the Payn did not yet goe; soe then I was longing for the deare Pleasure, and fondlie turning over the Leaves, and wondering woulde Father be surprised and pleased with it some Daye, when Father himself came in or ever I was aware. He sayth, "What hast thou, Meg?" I faltered and woulde sett it aside. He sayth, "Nay, let me see;" and soe takes it from me; and after the firste Glance throws himself into a Seat, his Back to me, and firste runs it hastilie through, then beginnes with Methode and such Silence and Gravitie as that I trembled at his Side, and felt what it must be to stand a Prisoner at the Bar, and he the Judge. Sometimes I thought he must be pleased, at others not: at lengthe, alle my fond Hopes were ended by his crying, "This will never doe. Poor Wretch, hath this then beene thy Toyl? How couldst find Time for soe much Labour? for here hath beene Trouble enow and to spare. Thou must have stolen it, sweet Meg, from the Night, and prevented the Morning Watch. Most dear'st! thy Father's owne loved Child;" and soe, caressing me till I gave over my Shame and Disappointment.

"I neede not to tell thee, Meg," Father sayth, "of the unprofitable Labour of Sisyphus, nor of drawing Water in a Sieve. There are some Things, most deare one, that a Woman, if she trieth, may doe as well as a Man; and some she cannot, and some she had better not. Now, I tell thee firmlie, since the firste Payn is the leaste sharpe, that, despite the Spiritt and Genius herein shewn, I am avised 'tis Work thou canst not and Work thou hadst better not doe. But judge for thyselfe; if thou wilt persist, thou shalt have Leisure and Quiet, and a Chamber in my new Building, and alle the Help my Gallery of Books may afford. But thy Father says, Forbear."

Soe, what coulde I say, but "My Father shall never speak to me in vayn."

Then he gathered the Papers up and sayd, "Then I shall take Temptation out of your Way;" and pressing 'em to his Heart as he did soe, sayth, "They are as deare to me as they can be to you;" and soe left me, looking out as though I noted (but I noted not) the cleare-shining Thames. 'Twas Twilighte, and I stoode there I know not how long, alone and lonely; with Tears coming, I knew not why, into mine Eyes. There was a Weight in the Ayr, as of coming Thunder; the Screaming, ever and anon, of Juno and Argus, inclined me to Mellancholie, as it alwaies does: and at length I beganne to note the Moon rising, and the deepening Clearnesse of the Water, and the lazy Motion of the Barges, and the Flashes of Light whene'er the Rowers dipt theire Oars. And then I beganne to attend to the Cries and different Sounds from acrosse the Water, and the Tolling of a distant Bell; and I felle back on mine olde heart-sighinge, "Fecisti nos ad te, Domine; et inquietum est cor nostrum, donec requiescat in te."

Or ever the Week was gone, my Father had contrived for me another Journey to New Hall, to abide with the Lay Nuns, as he calleth them, Aunt Nan and Aunt Fan, whom my Step-mother loveth not, but whom I love and whom Father loveth. Indeede, 'tis sayd in Essex that at first he inclined to Aunt Nan rather than to my Mother; but that, perceiving my Mother affected his Companie and Aunt Nan affected it not, he diverted his hesitating Affections unto her and took her to wife. Howbeit, Aunt Nan loveth him dearlie as a Sister ought: indeed, she loveth alle, except, methinketh, herself, to whom, alone, she is rigid and severe. How holie are my Aunts' Lives! Cloistered Nuns could not be more pure, and could scarce be as usefulle. Though wise, they can be gay; though noe longer young, they love the Young. And theire Reward is, the Young love them; and I am fulle sure in this World they seek noe better.

Returned to Chelsea, I spake much in Prayse of mine Aunts, and of single Life. On a certayn Evening, we Maids were sett at our Needles and Samplers on the Pavilion Steps; and, as Follie will out, 'gan talk of what we would fayn have to our Lots, shoulde a good Fairie starte up and grant eache a Wish. Daisy was for a Countess's Degree, with Hawks and Hounds. Bess was for founding a College, Mercy a Hospital, and she spake soe experimentallie of its Conditions that I was fayn to goe Partners with her in the same. Cecy commenced, "Supposing I were married; if once that I were married"—on which, Father, who had come up unperceived, burst out laughing and sayth, "Well, Dame Cecily, and what State would you keep?" Howbeit, as he and I afterwards paced together, juxta Fluvium, he did say, "Mercy hath well propounded the Conditions of an Hospital or Alms-house for aged and sick Folk, and 'tis a Fantasie of mine to sett even such an one afoot, and give you the Conduct of the same."

From this careless Speech, dropped as 'twere by the Way, hath sprung mine House of Refuge! and oh, what Pleasure have I derived from it! How good is my Father! how the Poor bless him! and how kind is he, through them, to me! Laying his Hand kindly on my Shoulder, this Morning, he sayd, "Meg, how fares it with thee now? Have I cured the Payn in thy Head?" Then, putting the House-key into mine Hand, he laughingly added, "'Tis now yours, my Joy, by Livery and Seisin."

Aug. 6th.

I wish William would give me back my Testament. 'Tis one thing to steal a Knot or a Posie, and another to borrow the most valuable Book in the House, and keep it Week after Week. He soughte it with a kind of Mysterie, soe as that I forbeare to ask it of him in Companie, lest I should doe him an ill Turn; and yet I have none other Occasion.

Alle Parties are striving which shall have Erasmus, and alle in vayn. E'en thus it was with him when he was here last,—the Queen would have had him for her Preceptor, the King and Cardinall prest on him a royall Apartment and Salarie, Oxford and Cambridge contended for him, but his Saying was, "Alle these I value less than my Libertie, my Studdies, and my literarie Toyls." How much greater is he than those who woulde confer on him Greatnesse! Noe Man of Letters hath equall Reputation, or is soe much courted.

Aug. 7th.

Yester-even, after overlooking the Men playing at Loggats, Father and I strayed away along Thermopylæ into the Home-field; and as we sauntered together under the Elms, he sayth with a Sigh, "Jack is Jack, and no More ... he will never be anything. An' 'twere not for my beloved Wenches, I should be an unhappy Father. But what though!—My Meg is better unto me than ten Sons; and it maketh no Difference at Harvest-time whether our Corn were put into the Ground by a Man or a Woman."

While I was turning in my Mind what Excuse I might make for John, Father taketh me at unawares by a sudden Change of Subject; saying, "Come, tell me, Meg, why canst not affect Will Roper?"

I was a good while silent, at length made Answer, "He is so unlike alle I esteem and admire ... so unlike alle I have been taught to esteem and admire by you."—

"Have at you," he returned laughing, "I wist not I had been sharpening Weapons agaynst myself. True, he is neither Achilles nor Hector, nor even Paris, but yet well enough, meseems, as Times go—smarter and comelier than either Heron or Dancey."

I, faltering, made Answer, "Good Looks affect me but little—'tis in his better Part I feel the Want. He cannot ... discourse, for instance, to one's Mind and Soul, like unto you, dear Father, or Erasmus."

"I should marvel if he could," returned Father gravelie, "thou art mad, my Daughter, to look, in a Youth of Will's Years, for the Mind of a Man of fifty. What were Erasmus and I, dost thou suppose, at Will's age? Alas, Meg, I should not like you to know what I was! Men called me the Boy-sage, and I know not what, but in my Heart and Head was a World of Sin and Folly. Thou mightst as well expect Will to have my Hair, Eyes, and Teeth, alle getting the worse for Wear, as to have the Fruits of my life-long Experience, in some Cases full dearly bought. Take him for what he is, match him by the young Minds of his owne standing: consider how long and closelie we have known him. His Parts are, surelie, not amiss: he hath more Book-lore than Dancey, more mother Wit than Allington."

"But why need I to concern myself about him?" I exclaymed; "Will is very well in his way: why should we cross each other's Paths? I am young, I have much to learn, I love my Studdies,—why interrupt them with other and less wise Thoughts?"

"Because nothing can be wise that is not practical," returned Father, "and I teach my Children Philosophie to fitt them for living in the World, not above it. One may spend a Life in dreaming over Plato, and yet goe out of it without leaving the World a whit the better for our having made Part of it. 'Tis to little Purpose we studdy, if it onlie makes us exact Perfections in others which they may in vayn seek for in ourselves. It is not even necessary or goode for us to live entirelie with congeniall Spiritts. The vigourous tempers the inert, the passionate is evened by the cool-tempered, the prosaic balances the visionarie. Woulde thy Mother suit me better, dost thou suppose, if she coulde discuss Polemicks like Luther or Melancthon? E'en thine owne sweet Mother, Meg, was less affected to Studdy than thou art,—she learnt to love it for my Sake, but I made her what she was."

And, with a suddain Burste of fond Recollection, he hid his Eyes on my Shoulder, and for a Moment or soe, cried bitterlie. As for me, I shed, oh! such salt Teares!...

Aug. 17th.

Entering, o' the suddain, into Mercy's Chamber, I founde her all be-wept and waped, poring over an old Kirtle of Mother's she had bidden her re-line with Buckram. Coulde not make out whether she were sick of her Task, had had Words with Mother, or had some secret Inquietation of her owne; but, as she is a Girl of few Words, I found I had best leave her alone after a Caress and kind Saying or two. We alle have our Troubles.

Wednesday, 19th.

Trulie may I say soe. Here have they ta'en a Fever of some low Sorte in my House of Refuge, and Mother, fearing it may be the Sicknesse, will not have me goe neare it, lest I should bring it home. Mercy, howbeit, hath besought her soe earnestlie to let her goe and nurse the Sick, that Mother hath granted her Prayer, on Condition she returneth not till the Fever bates ... thus setting her Life at lower Value than our owne. Deare Mercy! I would fayn be her Mate.

21st.

We are alle mightie glad that Rupert Allington hath at lengthe zealouslie embraced the Studdy of the Law. 'Twas much to be feared at the Firste there was noe Application in him, and though we alle pitied him when Father first broughte him Home, a pillaged, portionlesse Client, with none other to espouse his Rightes, yet 'twas a Pitie soone allied with Contempt when we founde how emptie he was, caring for nought but Archerie and Skittles and the Popinjaye out o' the House, and Dicing and Tables within, which Father would on noe Excuse permitt. Soe he had to conform, ruefullie enow, and hung piteouslie on Hand for awhile. I mind me of Bess's saying, about Christmasse, "Heaven send us open Weather while Allington is here; I don't believe he is one that will bear shutting up." Howbeit, he seemed to incline towards Daisy, who is handsome enow, and cannot be hindered of Two-hundred Pounds, and soe he kept within Bounds, and when Father got him his Cause he was mightilie thankfulle, and woulde have left us out of Hand, but Father persuaded him to let his Estate recover itself, and turn the mean Time to Profitt, and, in short, soe wrought on him, that he hath now become a Student in righte earneste.

22nd.

Soe we are going to lose not only Mr. Clement, but Mr. Gunnel! How sorrie we alle are! It seemeth he hath long been debating for and agaynst the Church, and at length finds his Mind soe stronglie set towards it, as he can keep out of it noe longer. Well! we shall lose a good Master, and the Church will gayn a good Servant. Drew will supplie his Place, that is, according to his beste, but our worthy Welshman careth soe little for young People, and is soe abstract from the World about him, that we shall oft feel our Loss. Father hath promised Gonellus his Interest with the Cardinall.

I fell into Disgrace for holding Speech with Mercy over the Pales, but she is confident there is noe Danger; the Sick are doing well, and none of the Whole have fallen sick. She sayth Gammer Gurney is as tender of her as if she were her Daughter, and will let her doe noe vile or paynfull Office, soe as she hath little to doe but read and pray for the poor Souls, and feed 'em with savourie Messes, and they are alle so harmonious and full of Cheer, as to be like Birds in a Nest. Mercy deserves theire Blessings more than I. Were I a free Agent, she should not be alone now, and I hope ne'er to be withheld therefrom agayn.

30th.

Busied with my Flowers the chief o' the Forenoon, I was fayn to rest in the Pavilion, when, entering therein, whom shoulde I stumble upon but William, layd at length on the Floor, with his Arms under his Head, and his Book on the Ground. I was withdrawing brisklie enow, when he called out, "Don't goe away, since you are here," in a Tone soe rough, soe unlike his usuall Key, as that I paused in a Maze, and then saw that his Eyes were red. He sprung to his Feet and sayd, "Meg, come and talk to me;" and, taking my Hand in his, stepped quicklie forthe without another Word sayd, till we reached the Elm-tree Walk. I marvelled to see him soe moven, and expected to hear Somewhat that shoulde displease me, scarce knowing what; however, I might have guest at it from then till now, without ever nearing the Truth. His first Words were, "I wish Erasmus had ne'er crost the Thresholde; he has made me very unhappie;" then, seeing me stare, "Be not his Council just now, deare Meg, but bind up, if thou canst, the Wounds he has made.... There be some Wounds, thou knowest, though but of a cut Finger or the like, that we cannot well bind up for ourselves."

I made Answer, "I am a young and unskilled Leech."

He replyed, "But you have a quick Wit, and Patience, and Kindnesse, and for a Woman, are not scant of Learning."

"Nay," I sayd, "but Mr. Gunnel—"

"Gunnel would be the Last to help me," interrupts Will, "nor can I speak to your Father. He is alwaies too busie now ... besides,—"

"Father Francis?" I put in.

"Father Francis?" repeats Will, with a Shake o' the Head and a ruefulle Smile; "dost thou think, Meg, he coulde answer me if I put to him Pilate's Question, 'What is Truth?'"

"We know alreadie," quoth I.

Sayth Will, "What do we know?"

I paused, then made Answer reverentlie, "That Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life."

"Yes," he exclaymed, clapping his Hands together in a strange Sort of Passion; "that we doe know, blessed be God, and other Foundation can or ought noe Man to lay than that is layd, which is Jesus Christ. But, Meg, is this the Principle of our Church?"

"Yea, verily," I steadfastlie replied.

"Then, how has it beene overlayd," he hurriedlie went on, "with Men's Inventions! St. Paul speaks of a Sacrifice once offered: we holde the Host to be a continuall Sacrifice. Holy Writ telleth us, where a Tree falls it must lie; we are taughte that our Prayers may free Souls from Purgatorie. The Word sayth, 'By Faith ye are saved;' the Church sayth, we may be saved by our Works. It is written, 'The Idols he shall utterly abolish;' we worship Figures of Gold and Silver...." "Hold, hold," I sayd, "I dare not listen to this.... You are wrong, you know you are wrong."

"How and where?" he sayth; "onlie tell me. I long to be put righte."

"Our Images are but Symbols of our Saints," I made Answer; "'tis onlie the Ignorant and Unlearned that worship the mere Wood and Stone."

"But why worship Saints at alle?" persisted Will; "where's your Warrant for it?"

I sayd, "Heaven has warranted it by sundrie and speciall Miracles at divers Times and Places. I may say to you, Will, as Socrates to Agathon, 'You may easilie argue agaynst me, but you cannot argue agaynst the Truth.'"

"Oh, put me not off with Plato," he impatientlie replyed, "refer me but to Holie Writ."

"How can I," quoth I, "when you have ta'en away my Testament ere I had half gone through it? 'Tis this Book, I fear me, poor Will, hath unsettled thee. Our Church, indeed, sayth the Unlearned wrest it to theire Destruction."

"And yet the Apostle sayth," rejoyned Will, "that it contayns alle Things necessarie to our Salvation."

"Doubtlesse it doth, if we knew but where to find them," I replied.

"And how find, unlesse we seeke?" he pursued, "and how know which Road to take, when we find the Scripture and the Church at Issue?"

"Get some wiser Head to advise us," I rejoyned.

"But an' if the Obstacle remains the same?"

"I cannot suppose that," I somewhat impatientlie returned, "God's Word and God's Church must agree; 'tis only we that make them at Issue."

"Ah, Meg, that is just such an Answer as Father Francis mighte give—it solves noe Difficultie. If, to alle human Reason, they pull opposite Ways, by which shall we abide? I know; I am certain. 'Tu, Domine Jesu, es Justicia mea!'"

He looked soe rapt, with claspt Hands and upraysed Eyes, as that I coulde not but look on him and hear him with Solemnitie. At length I sayd, "If you know and are certayn, you have noe longer anie Doubts for me to lay, and with your Will, we will holde this Discourse noe longer, for however moving and however considerable its Subject Matter may be, it approaches forbidden Ground too nearlie for me to feel it safe, and I question whether it savoureth not of Heresie. However, Will, I most heartilie pitie you, and will pray for you."

"Do, Meg, do," he replyed, "and say nought to any one of this Matter."

"Indeede I shall not, for I think 'twoulde bring you if not me into Trouble; but, since thou haste soughte my Council, Will, receive it now and take it...."

He sayth, "What is it?"

"To read less, pray more, fast, and use such Discipline as our Church recommends, and I question not this Temptation will depart. Make a fayr Triall."

And soe, away from him, though he woulde fain have sayd more; and I have kept mine own Worde of praying for him full earnestlie, for it pitieth me to see him in such Case.

Sept. 2nd.

Poor Will, I never see him look grave now, nor heare him sighe, without thinking I know the Cause of his secret Discontentation. He hath, I believe, followed my Council to the Letter, for though the Men's Quarter of the House is soe far aparte from ours, it hath come rounde to me through Barbara, who had it from her Brother, that Mr. Roper hath of late lien on the Ground, and used a knotted Cord. As 'tis one of the Acts of Mercy to relieve others, when we can, from Satanic Doubts and Inquietations, I have been at some Payns to make an Abstracte of such Passages from the Fathers, and such Narratives of noted and undeniable Miracles as cannot, I think, but carry Conviction with them, and I hope they may minister to his Soul's Comfort.

Tuesday, 4th.

Supped with my Lord Sands. Mother played Mumchance with my Lady, but Father, who saith he woulde rather feast a hundred poor Men than eat at one rich Man's Table, came not in till late, on Plea of Businesse. My Lord tolde him the King had visitted him not long agone, and was soe well content with his Manor as to wish it were his owne, for the singular fine Ayr and pleasant growth of Wood. In fine, wound up the Evening with Musick. My Lady hath a Pair of fine-toned Clavichords, and a Mandoline that stands five Feet high; the largest in England, except that of the Lady Mary Dudley. The Sound, indeed, is powerfull, but methinketh the Instrument ungaynlie for a Woman. Lord Sands sang us a new Ballad, "The King's Hunt's up," which Father affected hugelie. I lacked Spiritt to sue my Lord for the Words, he being soe free-spoken as alwaies to dash me; howbeit, I mind they ran somewhat thus....

—The Rest hath escaped me, albeit I know there was some Burden of Hey-tantara, where my Lord did stamp and snap his Fingers. He is a merry Heart.

1524, October.

Sayth Lord Rutland to my Father, in his acute sneering Way, "Ah, ah, Sir Thomas, Honores mutant Mores."

"Not so, in Faith, my Lord," returns Father, "but have a care lest we translate the Proverb, and say Honours change Manners."

It served him right, and the Jest is worth preserving, because 'twas not premeditate, as my Lord's very likely was, but retorted at once and in Self-defence. I don't believe Honours have changed the Mores. As Father told Mother, there's the same Face under the Hood. 'Tis comique, too, the Fulfilment of Erasmus his Prophecy. Plato's Year has not come rounde, but they have got Father to Court, and the King seems minded never to let him goe. For us, we have the same untamed Spiritts and unconstrayned Course of Life as ever, neither lett nor hindered in our daylie Studdies, though we dress somewhat braver, and see more Companie. Mother's Head was a little turned, at first, by the Change and Enlargement of the Householde ... the Acquisition of Clerk of the Kitchen, Surveyor of the Dresser, Yeoman of the Pastrie, etc., but, as Father laughinglie tolde her, the Increase of her Cares soon steddied her Witts, for she found she had twenty Unthrifts to look after insteade of half-a-dozen. And the same with himself. His Responsibilities are soe increast, that he grutches at everie Hour the Court steals from his Family, and vows, now and then, he will leave off joking, that the King may the sooner wearie of him. But this is onlie in Jest, for he feels it is a Power given him over lighter Minds, which he may exert to usefull and high Purpose. Onlie it keepeth him from needing Damocles his Sword; he trusts not in the Favour of Princes nor in the Voyce of the People, and keeps his Soul as a weaned Child. 'Tis much for us now to get an Hour's Leisure with him, and makes us feel what our olde Privilleges were when we knew 'em not. Still, I'm pleased without being over elated, at his having risen to his proper Level.

The King tooke us by Surprise this Morning: Mother had scarce time to slip on her Scarlett Gown and Coif, ere he was in the House. His Grace was mighty pleasant to all, and, at going, saluted all round, which Bessy took humourously, Daisy immoveablie, Mercy humblie, I distastefullie, and Mother delightedlie. She calls him a fine Man; he is indeede big enough, and like to become too big; with long slits of Eyes that gaze freelie on all, as who shoulde say, "Who dare let or hinder us?" His Brow betokens Sense and Franknesse, his Eyebrows are supercilious, and his Cheeks puffy. A rolling, straddling Gait, and abrupt Speech.