After that done, and gone and kissed my mother in bed, I away to Westminster Hall, and thence home, where little Mrs. Tooker staid all night with us, and a pretty child she is, and happens to be niece to my beauty that is dead, that lived at the Jackanapes, in Cheapside.

21st. My brother John is shortly to be Master in Arts, and writes me this week a Latin letter that he is to go into orders this Lent. To the Duke's chamber, and here the Duke did bring out a book of great antiquity, of some of the customs of the Navy, about 100 years since, which he did lend us to read, and deliver him back again. To Trinity-house, being invited to an Elder Brother's feast; and there met and sat by Mr. Prin, and had good discourse about the privileges of Parliament, which, he says, are few to the Commons' House, and those not examinable by them, but only by the House of Lords. Thence with my Lord Brouncker to Gresham College, the first time after the sickness that I was there, and the second time any met. And here a good lecture of Mr. Hooke's about the trade of felt-making, very pretty; and anon he alone with me about the art of drawing pictures by Prince Rupert's rule and machine, and another of Dr. Wren's; but he says nothing do like squares, or, which is the best in the world, like a dark roome.

22d. We are much troubled that the sickness in general, the town being so full of people, should be but three, and yet of the particular disease of the plague there should be ten encrease.

23d. To my Lord Sandwich's, who did lie the last 1 Sir Christopher Wren.

night at his house in Lincoln's Inne Fields. It being fine walking in the morning, and the streets full of people again. There I staid, and the house full of people come to take leave of my Lord, who this day goes out of towne upon his embassy towards Spain; and I was glad to find Sir W. Coventry to come, though I know it is only a piece of courtship. To Mr. Hales's, and my wife's picture pleases me well, and I begin to doubt the picture of my Lady Peters my wife takes her posture from, and which is an excellent picture, is not of his making it is so master-like. Comes Mrs. Knipp to see my wife, and I spent all the night talking with this baggage, and teaching her my song of "Beauty, retire,” which she sings and makes go most rarely, and a very fine song it seems to be. She also entertained me with repeating many of her own and others' parts of the play-house, which she do most excellently; and tells me the whole practices of the play-house and players, and is in every respect most excellent company. So I supped, and was merry at home all the evening, and the rather it being my birthday 33 years, for which God be praised that I am in so good a condition of health and estate, and everything else as I am, beyond expectation, in all.

24th. At the office till past three o'clock. At that hour home, and eat a bit alone, my wife being gone out. So abroad by coach with Mr. Hill, who staid for me to speak about business, and he and I to Hales's, where I find my wife, and her woman, and Pierce and Knipp. There sung, and was mighty merry, and I joyed myself in it; but vexed at first to find my wife's picture not so like as I expected; but it was only his having finished

VOL. III.

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one part, and not another, of the face; but, before I went, I was satisfied it will be an excellent picture. Here we had ale and cakes, and mighty merry, and sung my song, which she now sings bravely, and makes me proud of myself. Thence left my wife to go home with Mrs. Pierce, while I home to the office, and there pretty late, and to bed, after fitting myself for to-morrow's journey.

25th. (Lord's day.) My wife up between three and four of the o'clock in the morning to dress herself, and I about five, and were all ready to take coach, she and I and Mercer, a little past five, but, to our trouble, the coach did not come till six. I hired it on purpose, and Lechmere to ride by, through the city, it being clear day, to Branford, and so with our coach of four horses to Windsor, and so to Cranborne, about eleven o'clock, and found my Lord and the ladies at a sermon in the house; which being ended, we to them, and all the company glad to see us, and mighty merry to dinner. Here was my Lord, and Lord Hinchingbroke, and Mr. Sidney, Sir Charles Herbert, and Mr. Carteret, my Lady Carteret, my Lady Jemimah, and Lady Slaning. After dinner to walk in the Park, my Lord and I alone; and he tells me my Lord of Suffolk, Lord Arlington, Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord Treasurer, Mr. Atturny Montagu, Sir Thomas Clifford in the House of Commons, Sir G. Carteret, and some others I cannot presently remember, are friends that I may rely on for him. He dreads the issue of this year, and

2

3

1 Sandwich.

Sidney Montagu, Lord Sandwich's second son.

3 Sir G. Carteret's daughter Caroline.

fears there will be some very great revolutions before his coming back again. He doubts it is needful for him to have a pardon for his last year's actions, all which he did without commission, and at most but the King's private single word for that of Bergen; but he dares not ask it at this time, lest it should make them think that there is something more in it than yet they know; and if it should be denied, it would be of very ill consequence. He says, also, if it should in Parliament be enquired into the selling of Dunkirke, though the Chancellor was the man that would have sold it to France, saying the King of Spain had no money to give for it, yet he will be found to have been the greatest adviser of it, which he is a little apprehensive may be called upon by this Parliament. He told me it would not be necessary for him to tell me his debts, because he thinks I know them so well. He tells me,

that for the match propounded of Mrs. Mallett for my Lord Hinchingbroke, it hath been lately off, and now her friends bring it on again, and an overture hath been made to him by a servant of hers, to compass the thing without consent of friends, she herself having a respect to my Lord's family, but my Lord will not listen to it but in a way of honour. Then I with the young ladies and gentlemen, who played on the guittar, and mighty merry, and anon to supper; and then my Lord going away to write, the young gentlemen to flinging of cushions, and other mad sports, till towards twelve at night, and then, being sleepy, I and my wife in a passage-room to bed, and slept not very well, because of noise.

26th. Called up about five in the morning, and my

It is a

Great

Lord up, and took leave, a little after six, very kindly of me and the whole company. So took coach and to Windsor, to the Garter, and thither sent for Dr. Childe,1 who come to us and carried us to St. George's Chapel, and there placed us among the Knights' stalls; and pretty the observation, that no man, but a woman, may sit in a Knight's place, where any brass plates are set, and hither come cushions to us, and a young singingboy to bring us a copy of the anthem to be sung. And here, for our sakes, had this anthem and the great service sung extraordinary, only to entertain us. noble place indeed, and a good Quire of voices. bowing by all the people, the poor Knights in particularly, to the Altar. After prayers, we to see the plate of the chapel, and the robes of Knights, and a man to show us the banners of the several Knights in being, which hang up over the stalls. course very pretty, about the where the late King is buried, Eighth, and my Lady Seymour. This being done, to the King's house, and to observe the neatness and contrivance of the house and gates: it is the most romantique castle that is in the world. But, Lord! the prospect that is in the balcone in the Queene's lodgings, and the terrace and walk, are strange things to consider, being the best in the world, sure; and so, giving a great deal of money to this and that man and woman, we to our tavern, and there dined, the Doctor with us; and so took coach and away to Eton, the Doctor with me. Before we went to Chapel this morning, Kate Joyce, in

And so to other disOrder. Was shown and King Henry the

1 William Child, Doctor of Music, Organist of St. George's Chapel, at Windsor. Ob. 1696, aged 91.