Lord Mayor and Aldermen to come to sermon, as they do
every Sunday, as they did formerly to Paul's. Walk back home and to our
own church, where a dull sermon and our church empty of the best sort of
people, they being at their country houses, and so home, and there dined
with me Mr. Turner and his daughter Betty.

[Betty Turner, who is frequently mentioned after this date, appears
to have been a daughter of Serjeant John Turner and his wife Jane,
and younger sister of Theophila Turner (see January 4th, 6th,
1668-69).]

Her mother should, but they were invited to Sir J. Minnes, where she
dined and the others here with me. Betty is grown a fine lady as to
carriage and discourse. I and my wife are mightily pleased with her. We
had a good haunch of venison, powdered and boiled, and a good dinner and
merry. After dinner comes Mr. Pelling the Potticary, whom I had sent for
to dine with me, but he was engaged. After sitting an hour to talk we
broke up, all leaving Pelling to talk with my wife, and I walked towards
White Hall, but, being wearied, turned into St. Dunstan's Church, where
I heard an able sermon of the minister of the place; and stood by a
pretty, modest maid, whom I did labour to take by the hand and the body;
but she would not, but got further and further from me; and, at last,
I could perceive her to take pins out of her pocket to prick me if I
should touch her again--which seeing I did forbear, and was glad I did
spy her design. And then I fell to gaze upon another pretty maid in a
pew close to me, and she on me; and I did go about to take her by the
hand, which she suffered a little and then withdrew. So the sermon
ended, and the church broke up, and my amours ended also, and so took
coach and home, and there took up my wife, and to Islington with
her, our old road, but before we got to Islington, between that and
Kingsland, there happened an odd adventure: one of our coach-horses fell
sick of the staggers, so as he was ready to fall down. The coachman was
fain to 'light, and hold him up, and cut his tongue to make him bleed,
and his tail. The horse continued shaking every part of him, as if he
had been in an ague, a good while, and his blood settled in his tongue,
and the coachman thought and believed he would presently drop down dead;
then he blew some tobacco in his nose, upon which the horse sneezed,
and, by and by, grows well, and draws us the rest of our way, as well
as ever he did;