Friday. Jany. 6.
I fancied last night that I heard Papa whisper to Occyta a proposal about taking or sending him & everybody to Worcester. All fancy!—
Where was Fancy bred
In the heart or in the head?—[1]
Not in the head I think, on this occasion. Mdme de Sevignè says that the thoughts early in a morning, are couleur de rose. Mine were so much the contrary, before I got up this morning, that they made me cry—
Wrote to Mrs. Boyd. It is better to do so. Told her how jet black my spirits were, but did not mention Mr. Clarke Jarvis,[2]nor nothing. Desired to be remembered to Miss Mushet. My best regards are kept for better occasions. Finished the Choephori, & began the Eumenides. Read more than 500 lines of Greek, & was more tired by them than by the 800 the other day, because I met with more difficulties. Enervated & inclined to go to sleep.
This is the twelfth day. How many happy twelfth days I have spent!-- If it is fine tomorrow, I must make a proposition about R C. But it wont be fine. Fogissimo all today!-- The choruses both in the Supplices & Choephori are the finest parts; and yet the conclusion of the latter, is very fine. Æschylus, & worthy of Æschylus.
1. Merchant of Venice, III.ii.63–64.
2. Not identified.
