Last Visitt to _Sheepscote,--_at leaste, as _Mary Powell_; but kind _Rose_ and _Roger Agnew_ will give us the Use of it for a Week on our Marriage, and spend the Time with dear _Father_ and _Mother_, who will neede their Kindnesse. _Rose_ and I walked long aboute the Garden, her Arm round my Neck; and she was avised to say, "Cloth of Frieze, be not too bold, Tho' thou be matcht with Cloth of Gold,--" And then craved my Pardon for soe unmannerly a Rhyme, which indeede, methoughte, needed an Excuse, but exprest a Feare that I knew not (what she called) my high Destiny, and prayed me not to trifle with Mr. _Milton's_ Feelings nor in his Sighte, as I had done the Daye she dined at _Forest Hill_. I laught, and sayd, he must take me as he found me: he was going to marry _Mary Powell_, not the _Wise Widow of Tekoah_. _Rose_ lookt wistfullie, but I bade her take Heart, for I doubted not we shoulde content eache the other; and for the Rest, her Advice shoulde not be forgotten. Thereat, she was pacyfied. _May 22d, 1643_. Alle Bustle and Confusion,--slaying of Poultrie, making of Pastrie, etc. People coming and going, prest to dine and to sup, and refuse, and then stay, the colde Meats and Wines ever on the Table; and in the Evening, the Rebecks and Recorders sent for that we may dance in the Hall. My Spiritts have been most unequall; and this Evening I was overtaken with a suddain Faintnesse, such as I never but once before experienced. They would let me dance no more; and I was quite tired enoughe to be glad to sit aparte with Mr. _Milton_ neare the Doore, with the Moon shining on us; untill at length he drew me out into the Garden. He spake of Happinesse and Home, and Hearts knit in Love, and of heavenlie Espousals, and of Man being the Head of the Woman, and of our _Lord's_ Marriage with the Church, and of white Robes, and the Bridegroom coming in Clouds of Glory, and of the Voices of singing Men and singing Women, and eternall Spring, and eternall Blisse, and much that I cannot call to Mind, and other-much that I coulde not comprehende, but which was in mine ears as the Song of Birds, or Falling of Waters. _May 23d, 1643_. _Rose_ hath come, and hath kindlie offered to help pack the Trunks, (which are to be sent off by the Waggon to _London_,) that I may have the more Time to devote to Mr. _Milton_. Nay, but he will soon have all my Time devoted to himself, and I would as lief spend what little remains in mine accustomed Haunts, after mine accustomed Fashion. I had purposed a Ride on _Clover_ this Morning, with _Robin_; but the poor Boy must I trow be disappointed.