ork that is to be done in preparation to this. Great
preparations there are to fortify Sheernesse and the yard at Portsmouth,
and forces are drawing down to both those places, and elsewhere by the
seaside; so that we have some fear of an invasion; and the Duke of York
himself did declare his expectation of the enemy's blocking us up here
in the River, and therefore directed that we should send away all the
ships that we have to fit out hence. Sir W. Pen told me, going with me
this morning to White Hall, that for certain the Duke of Buckingham
is brought into the Tower, and that he hath had an hour's private
conference with the King before he was sent thither. To Westminster
Hall. There bought some news books, and, as every where else, hear every
body complain of the dearness of coals, being at L4 per chaldron, the
weather, too, being become most bitter cold, the King saying to-day that
it was the coldest day he ever knew in England. Thence by coach to my
Lord Crew's, where very welcome. Here I find they are in doubt where
the Duke of Buckingham is; which makes me mightily reflect on the
uncertainty of all history, when, in a business of this moment, and
of this day's growth, we cannot tell the truth. Here dined my old
acquaintance, Mr. Borfett, that was my Lord Sandwich's chaplain, and
my Lady Wright and Dr. Boreman, who is preacher at St. Gyles's in the
Fields, who, after dinner, did give my Lord an account of two papist
women lately converted, whereof one wrote her recantation, which he
shewed under her own hand mighty well drawn, so as my Lord desired a
copy of it, after he had satisfied himself from the Doctor, that to his
knowledge she was not a woman under any necessity. Thence by coach home
and staid a very little, and then by water to Redriffe, and walked
to Bagwell's, where 'la moher' was 'defro, sed' would not have me
'demeurer' there 'parce que' Mrs. Batters and one of my 'ancillas',
I believe Jane (for she was gone abroad to-day), was in the town, and
coming thither; so I away presently, esteeming it a great escape. So to
the yard and spoke a word or two, and then by water home, wondrous cold,
and reading a ridiculous ballad made in praise of the Duke of Albemarle,
to the tune of St. George, the tune being printed, too; and I observe
that people have some great encouragement to make ballads of him of
this kind. There are so many, that hereafter he will sound like Guy of
Warwicke. Then abroad with my wife, leav