Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. III, No. XVII, October 1851Various
History
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. III, No. XVII, October 1851
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
But we lose not heart; I think mine is becoming annealed in the furnace,
and will not now break. I have writ somewhat after this fashion to
him.... "What do you think, most dear father, doth comfort us at
Chelsea, during this your absence? Surelie, the remembrance of your
manner of life among us, your holy conversation, your wholesome
counsells, your examples of virtue, of which there is hope that they do
not onlie persevere with you, but that, by God's grace, they are much
increast."
I weary to see him.... Yes, we shall meet in heaven, but how long first,
oh Lord? how long?
* * * * *
Now that I've come back, let me seek to think, to remember.... Sure, my
head will clear by-and-by? Strange, that feeling shoulde have the
masterdom of thought and memory, in matters it is most concerned to
retayn.
... I minded to put y^e haircloth and cord under my farthingale, and one
or two of y^e smaller books in my pouch, as alsoe some sweets and
suckets such as he was used to love. Will and Bonvisi were awaiting for
me, and deare Bess, putting forthe her head from her chamber door, cries
piteously, "Tell him, dear Meg, tell him ... 'twas never soe sad to me
to be sick ... and that I hope ... I pray ... the time may come ..."
then falls back swooning into Dancey's arms, whom I leave crying
heartilie over her, and hasten below to receive the confused medley of
messages sent by every other member of y^e house. For mine owne part, I
was in such a tremulous succussion as to be scarce fitt to stand or goe,
but time and the tide will noe man bide, and, once having taken boat,
the cool river air allayed my fevered spiritts; onlie I coulde not for
awhile get ridd of y^e impression of poor Dancey crying over Bess in her
deliquium.
I think none o' the three opened our lips before we reached Lambeth,
save, in y^e Reach, Will cried to y^e steersman, "Look you run us not
aground," in a sharper voyce than I e'er heard from him. After passing
y^e Archbishop's palace, whereon I gazed full ruefullie, good Bonvisi
beganne to mention some rhymes he had founde writ with a diamond on one
of his window-panes at Crosby House, and would know were they father's?
and was't y^e chamber father had used to sleep in? I tolde him it was,
but knew nought of y^e distich, though 'twas like enow to be his. And
thence he went on to this and that, how that father's cheerfulle, funny
humour never forsook him, nor his brave heart quelled, instancing his
fearlesse passage through the Traitor's Gate, asking his neighbours
whether _his_ gait was that of a traditor; and, on being sued by the
porter for his upper garment, giving him his _cap_, which he sayd was
uppermost. And other such quips and passages, which I scarce noted nor
smiled at, soe sorry was I of cheer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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