. . . I am soe sorry to have swooned. Needed I have done it, merelie to heare there was one who soughte my Favour? Aye, but one soe wise! so thoughtfulle! so unlike me! Bedtime: same Daye. . . . Who knoweth what a Daye will bring forth? After writing the above, I sate like one stupid, ruminating on I know not what, except on the Unlikelihood that one soe wise woulde trouble himselfe to _seeke_ for aught and yet fail to _win_. After abiding a long Space in mine owne Chamber, alle below seeming still, I began to wonder shoulde we dine alone or not, and to have a hundred hot and cold Fitts of Hope and Feare. Thought I, if Mr. _Milton_ comes, assuredlie I cannot goe down; but yet I must; but yet I will not; but yet the best will be to conduct myselfe as though nothing had happened; and, as he seems to have left the House long ago, maybe he hath returned to _Sheepscote_, or even to _London_. Oh that _London_! Shall I indeede ever see it? and the rare Shops, and the Play-houses, and _Paul's_, and the _Towre_? But what and if that ever comes to pass? Must I leave Home? dear _Forest Hill_? and _Father_ and _Mother_, and the Boys? more especiallie _Robin_? Ah! but _Father_ will give me a long Time to think of it. He will, and must. Then Dinner-time came; and, with Dinner-time, Uncle _Hewlett_ and _Ralph_, Squire _Paice_ and Mr. _Milton_. We had a huge Sirloin, soe no Feare of short Commons. I was not ill pleased to see soe manie: it gave me an Excuse for holding my Peace, but I coulde have wished for another Woman. However, _Father_ never thinks of that, and _Mother_ will soone be Home. After Dinner the elder Men went to the Bowling-greene with _Dick_ and _Ralph_; the Boys to the Fish-ponds; and, or ever I was aware, Mr. _Milton_ was walking with me on the Terrace. My Dreame came soe forcibly to Mind, that my Heart seemed to leap into my Mouth; but he kept away from the Fish-ponds, and from Leave-taking, and from his morning Discourse with my _Father_,--at least for awhile; but some Way he got round to it, and sayd soe much, and soe well, that, after alle my _Father's_ bidding me keepe quiete and take my Time, and mine owne Resolution to think much and long, he never rested till he had changed the whole Appearance of Things, and made me promise to be his, wholly and trulie.--And oh! I feare I have been too quickly wonne! _May 23d, 1643_.