utch just such as I
could have wished, and as the kingdom was fit to bear, enough to give us
the name of conquerors, and leave us masters of the sea, but without any
such great matters done as should give the Duke of Albemarle any honour
at all, or give him cause to rise to his former insolence.

AUGUST 1666

August 1st. Up betimes to the settling of my last month's accounts, and
I bless God I find them very clear, and that I am worth L5700, the most
that ever my book did yet make out. So prepared to attend the Duke of
Yorke as usual, but Sir W. Pen, just as I was going out, comes home from
Sheernesse, and held me in discourse about publique business, till I
come by coach too late to St. James's, and there find that every thing
stood still, and nothing done for want of me. Thence walked over the
Parke with Sir W. Coventry, who I clearly see is not thoroughly pleased
with the late management of the fight, nor with any thing that the
Generalls do; only is glad to hear that De Ruyter is out of favour, and
that this fight hath cost them 5,000 men, as they themselves do
report. And it is a strange thing, as he observes, how now and then the
slaughter runs on one hand; there being 5,000 killed on theirs, and not
above 400 or 500 killed and wounded on ours, and as many flag-officers
on theirs as ordinary captains in ours; there being Everson, and the
Admiral and Vice-Admiral of Freezeland on theirs, and Seamour, Martin,
and-----, on ours. I left him going to Chappell, it being the common
fast day, and the Duke of York at Chappell. And I to Mrs. Martin's, but
she abroad, so I sauntered to or again to the Abbey, and then to the
parish church, fearfull of being seen to do so, and so after the parish
church was ended, I to the Swan and there dined upon a rabbit, and after
dinner to Mrs. Martin's, and there find Mrs. Burroughs, and by and by
comes a pretty widow, one Mrs. Eastwood, and one Mrs. Fenton, a maid;
and here merry kissing and looking on their breasts, and all the
innocent pleasure in the world. But, Lord! to see the dissembling
of this widow, how upon the singing of a certain jigg by Doll, Mrs.
Martin's sister, she seemed to be sick and fainted and God knows what,
because the jigg, which her husband (who died this last sickness) loved.
But by and by I made her as merry as is possible, and towzed and tumbled
her as I pleased, and then carried her and her sober pretty kinswoman
Mrs. Fenton home to their lodgings in