did give
it them in good wine, and anchovies, and pickled oysters, and took them
to the Sun in Fish Street, there did give them a barrel of good ones,
and a great deal of wine, and sent for Mr. W. Bernard (Sir Robert's
son), a grocer thereabouts, and were very merry, and cost me a good
deal of money, and at noon left them, and with my head full of wine, and
being invited by a note from Luellin, that came to my hands this morning
in bed, I went to Nick Osborne's at the Victualling Office, and there
saw his wife, who he has lately married, a good sober woman, and new
come to their home. We had a good dish or two of marrowbones and another
of neats' tongues to dinner, and that being done I bade them adieu and
hastened to Whitehall (calling Mr. Moore by the way) to my Lord Privy
Seal, who will at last force the clerks to bring in a table of their
fees, which they have so long denied, but I do not join with them, and
so he is very respectful to me. So he desires me to bring in one which I
observe in making of fees, which I will speedily do. So back again,
and endeavoured to speak with Tom Trice (who I fear is hatching some
mischief), but could not, which vexed me, and so I went home and sat
late with pleasure at my lute, and so to bed.

7th. This morning came one Mr. Hill (sent by Mr. Hunt, the Instrument
maker), to teach me to play on the Theorbo, but I do not like his play
nor singing, and so I found a way to put him off. So to the office. And
then to dinner, and got Mr. Pett the Commissioner to dinner with me, he
and I alone, my wife not being well, and so after dinner parted. And I
to Tom Trice, who in short shewed me a writt he had ready for my father,
and I promised to answer it. So I went to Dr. Williams (who is now
pretty well got up after his sickness), and after that to Mr. Moore to
advise, and so returned home late on foot, with my mind cleared, though
not satisfied. I met with letters at home from my Lord from Lisbone,
which speak of his being well; and he tells me he had seen at the court
there the day before he wrote this letter, the Juego de Toro.--[A bull
fight. See May 24th, 1662.--B:]--So fitted myself for bed. Coming home
I called at my uncle Fenner's, who tells that Peg Kite now hath declared
she will have the beggarly rogue the weaver, and so we are resolved
neither to meddle nor make with her.

8th. This morning up early, and to my Lord Chancellor's with a letter
to him from my Lord, and did speak with