With Tears in my Eyes, I have beene to my Father. I have tolde him I must goe. He sayth, Oh no, not yet. I persisted, I must, my Husband was soe very angry. He rejoined, What, angry with my sweet _Moll_? and for spending a few Days with her old Father? Can it be? hath it come to this alreadie? I sayd, my Month had expired. He sayd, Nonsense, he had always askt me to stay over _Michaelmasse_, till his Birthday; he knew _Dick_ had named it to Mr. _Milton_. I sayd, Mr. _Milton_ had taken no Notice thereof, but had onlie granted me a Month. He grew peevish, and said, "Pooh, pooh!" Thereat, after a Silence of a Minute or two, I sayd yet agayn, I must goe. He took me by the two Wrists and sayd, Doe you wish to go? I burst into Teares, but made noe Answer. He sayd, That is Answer enough,--how doth this Puritan carry it with you, my Child? and snatched his Letter. I sayd, Oh, don't read that, and would have drawn it back; but _Father_, when heated, is impossible to controwl; therefore, quite deaf to Entreaty, he would read the Letter, which was unfit for him in his chafed Mood; then, holding it at Arm's Length, and smiting it with his Fist,--Ha! and is it thus he dares address a Daughter of mine? (with Words added, I dare not write)--but be quiet, _Moll_, be at Peace, my Child, for he shall not have you back for awhile, even though he come to fetch you himself. The maddest Thing I ever did was to give you to this Roundhead. He and _Roger Agnew_ talked me over with soe many fine Words.--What possessed me, I know not. Your Mother always said evil woulde come of it. But as long as thy Father has a Roof over his Head, Child, thou hast a Home. As soone as he woulde hear me, I begged him not to take on soe, for that I was not an unhappy Wife; but my Tears, he sayd, belied me; and indeed, with Fear and Agitation, they flowed fast enough. But I sayd, I _must_ goe home, and wished I had gone sooner, and woulde he let _Diggory_ take me! No, he sayd, not a Man Jack on his Land shoulde saddle a Horse for me, nor would he lend me one, to carry me back to Mr. _Milton_; at the leaste not for a While, till he had come to Reason, and protested he was sorry for having writ to me soe harshly. "Soe be content, _Moll_, and make not two Enemies instead of one. Goe, help thy Mother with her clear-starching. Be happy whilst thou art here." But ah! more easily said than done. "Alle Joy is darkened; the Mirthe of the Land is gone!" _Michaelmasse Day_. At Squire _Paice's_ grand Dinner we have been counting on soe many Days; but it gave me not the Pleasure expected. _Oct. 13, 1643_. The Weather is soe foul that I am sure Mr. _Milton_ woulde not like me to be on the Road, even would my Father let me goe.