nd
down with him to Woolwich to view Clothier's cordage, which I found bad
and stopped the receipt of it. Thence to the ropeyard, and there among
other things discoursed with Mrs. Falconer, who tells me that she has
found the writing, and Sir W. Pen's daughter is not put into the
lease for her life as he expected, and I am glad of it. Thence to the
Dockyarde, and there saw the new ship in very great forwardness, and so
by water to Deptford a little, and so home and shifting myself, to the
'Change, and there did business, and thence down by water to White Hall,
by the way, at the Three Cranes, putting into an alehouse and eat a bit
of bread and cheese. There I could not get into the Parke, and so was
fain to stay in the gallery over the gate to look to the passage into
the Parke, into which the King hath forbid of late anybody's coming, to
watch his coming that had appointed me to come, which he did by and by
with his lady and went to Guardener's Lane, and there instead of meeting
with one that was handsome and could play well, as they told me, she is
the ugliest beast and plays so basely as I never heard anybody, so that
I should loathe her being in my house. However, she took us by and by
and showed us indeed some pictures at one Hiseman's, a picture drawer, a
Dutchman, which is said to exceed Lilly, and indeed there is both of
the Queenes and Mayds of Honour (particularly Mrs. Stewart's in a buff
doublet like a soldier) as good pictures, I think, as ever I saw.
The Queene is drawn in one like a shepherdess, in the other like St.
Katharin, most like and most admirably. I was mightily pleased with this
sight indeed, and so back again to their lodgings, where I left them,
but before I went this mare that carried me, whose name I know not but
that they call him Sir John, a pitiful fellow, whose face I have long
known but upon what score I know not, but he could have the confidence
to ask me to lay down money for him to renew the lease of his house,
which I did give eare to there because I was there receiving a civility
from him, but shall not part with my money. There I left them, and I by
water home, where at my office busy late, then home to supper, and so to
bed. This day my wife tells me Mr. Pen,

[William Penn, afterwards the famous Quaker. P. Gibson, writing to
him in March, 1711-12, says: "I remember your honour very well,
when you newly came out of France and wore pantaloon breeches"]

Sir William