ever be yours,
seeing that a Woman has ever enough of her own!"

Then, more pensivelie, he added, "I discipline and tranquillize my Mind
on this Subject, ever remembering, when the Apprehension afflicts me,
that, as Man lives not by Bread alone, but by everie Word that proceeds
out of the Mouth of _God_, so Man likewise lives not by _Sight_ alone,
but by Faith in the Giver of Sight. As long, therefore, as it shall
please Him to prolong, however imperfectlie, this precious Gift, soe long
will I lay up Store agaynst the Days of Darknesse, which may be many; and
whensoever it shall please Him to withdrawe it from me altogether, I will
cheerfully bid mine Eyes keep Holiday, and place my Hand trustfullie in
His, to be led whithersoever He will, through the Remainder of Life."

A Honeymoon cannot for ever last; nor Sense of Danger, when it long hath
past;--but one little Difference from out manie greater Differences
between my late happie Fortnighte in _St. Martin's-le-Grand_, and my
present dailie Course in _Barbican_, hath marked the Distinction between
Lover and Husband. There it was "sweet _Moll_," "my Heart's Life of
Life," "my dearest cleaving Mischief;" here 'tis onlie "Wife," "Mistress
_Milton_," or at most "deare or sweet Wife." This, I know, is
masterfulle and seemly.

Onlie, this Morning, chancing to quote one of his owne Lines,

These Things may startle well, but not astounde,--

he sayd, in a Kind of Wonder, "Why, _Moll_, whence had you
that?--Methought you hated Versing, as you used to call it. When learnt
you to love it?" I hung my Head in my old foolish Way, and answered,
"Since I learnt to love the Verser." "Why, this is the best of Alle!" he
hastilie cried, "Can my sweet Wife be indeede Heart of my Heart and
Spirit of my Spirit? I lost, or drove away a Child, and have found a
Woman." Thereafter, he less often wifed me, and I found I was agayn
sweet _Moll_.

This Afternoon, _Christopher Milton_ lookt in on us. After saluting me
with the usuall Mixture of Malice and Civilitie in his Looks, he fell
into easie Conversation; and presentlie says to his Brother quietlie
enough, "I saw a curious Pennyworth at a Book-stall as I came along this
Morning." "What was that?" says my Husband, brightening up. "It had a
long Name," says _Christopher_,--"I think it was called _Tetrachordon_."
My Husband cast at me a suddain, quick Look, but I did not soe much as
change Colour; and quietlie continued my Se