Noe one woulde suppose me reckoning on a quiet Life if they knew how I've cried alle this Forenoon, ever since I got quit of _Will_, by _Father's_ carrying him off to _Westminster_. He'll tell _Father_, I know, as they goe along in the Barge, or else coming back, which will be soone now, though I've ta'en no Heed of the Hour. I wish 'twere cold Weather, and that I had a sore Throat, or stiff Neck, or somewhat that might reasonablie send me a-bed, and keep me there till to-morrow Morning. But I'm quite well, and 'tis the Dog-days, and Cook is thumping the Rolling-pin on the Dresser, and Dinner is being served, and here comes _Father_. [Illustration: "The King was here yesterday."] _1528, Sept._ _Father_ hath had some Words with the Cardinall. 'Twas touching the Draught of some forayn Treaty which the Cardinall offered for his Criticism, or rather, for his Commendation, which _Father_ could not give. This nettled his Grace, who exclaimed,--"By the Mass, thou art the veriest Fool of all the Council." _Father_, smiling, rejoined, "GOD be thanked, that the King our Master hath but one Fool therein." The _Cardinall_ may rage, but he can't rob him of the royal Favour. The _King_ was here yesterday, and walked for an Hour or soe about the Garden, with his Arm round _Father's_ Neck. _Will_ coulde not help felicitating _Father_ upon it afterwards; to which _Father_ made Answer, "I thank GOD I find his Grace my very good Lord indeed, and I believe he doth as singularly favour me as any Subject within this Realm. Howbeit, son _Roper_, I may tell thee between ourselves, I feel no Cause to be proud thereof, for if my Head would win him a Castle in _France_, it shoulde not fail to fly off."