's cask with pain confined,
Would burst the rotten vessel where 'tis pent,
But that 'tis tapt to give the treason vent."]

At noon home to dinner, and thence by coach to White Hall, where we
attended the Duke of York in his closet, upon our usual business. And
thence out, and did see many of the Knights of the Garter, with the King
and Duke of York, going into the Privychamber, to elect the Elector of
Saxony into that Order, who, I did hear the Duke of York say, was a good
drinker: I know not upon what score this compliment is done him. Thence
with W. Pen, who is in great pain of the gowte, by coach round by
Holborne home, he being at every kennel full of pain. Thence home, and
by and by comes my wife and Deb. home, have been at the King's playhouse
to-day, thinking to spy me there; and saw the new play, "Evening Love,"
of Dryden's, which, though the world commends, she likes not. So to
supper and talk, and all in good humour, and then to bed, where I slept
not well, from my apprehensions of some trouble about some business of
Mr. Povy's he told me of the other day.

20th. Up, and talked with my wife all in good humour, and so to the
office, where all the morning, and then home to dinner, and so she and
I alone to the King's house, and there I saw this new play my wife saw
yesterday, and do not like it, it being very smutty, and nothing so good
as "The Maiden Queen," or "The Indian Emperour," of his making, that I
was troubled at it; and my wife tells me wholly (which he confesses a
little in the epilogue) taken out of the "Illustre Bassa." So she to
Unthanke's and I to Mr. Povy, and there settled some business; and here
talked of things, and he thinks there will be great revolutions, and
that Creed will be a great man, though a rogue, he being a man of the
old strain, which will now be up again. So I took coach, and set Povy
down at Charing Cross, and took my wife up, and calling at the New
Exchange at Smith's shop, and kissed her pretty hand, and so we
home, and there able to do nothing by candlelight, my eyes being now
constantly so bad that I must take present advice or be blind. So to
supper, grieved for my eyes, and to bed.

21st (Lord's day). Up, and to church, and home and dined with my wife
and Deb. alone, but merry and in good humour, which is, when all is
done, the greatest felicity of all, and after dinner she to read in the
"Illustre Bassa" the plot of yesterday's play, which