we had a very fine banquet, the best I
ever was at, and so (there being very little company) we by and by broke
up, and my wife and I to my mother, who I took a liberty to advise about
her getting things ready to go this week into the country to my father,
and she (being become now-a-days very simple) took it very ill, and we
had a great deal of noise and wrangling about it. So home by coach.

4th. In the morning to the Privy Seal to do some things of the last
month, my Lord Privy Seal having been some time out of town. Then my
wife came to me to Whitehall, and we went and walked a good while in St.
James's Park to see the brave alterations, and so to Wilkinson's, the
Cook's, to dinner, where we sent for Mrs. Sarah and there dined and had
oysters, the first I have eat this year, and were pretty good. After
dinner by agreement to visit Mrs. Symonds, but she is abroad, which I
wonder at, and so missing her my wife again to my mother's (calling at
Mrs. Pierce's, who we found brought to bed of a girl last night) and
there staid and drank, and she resolves to be going to-morrow without
fail. Many friends come in to take their leave of her, but a great
deal of stir I had again tonight about getting her to go to see my Lady
Sandwich before she goes, which she says she will do tomorrow. So I
home.

5th. To the Privy Seal this morning about business, in my way taking
leave of my mother, who goes to Brampton to-day. But doing my business
at the Privy Seal pretty soon, I took boat and went to my uncle
Fenner's, and there I found my mother and my wife and Pall (of whom I
had this morning at my own house taken leave, and given her 20s. and
good counsel how to carry herself to my father and mother), and so I
took them, it being late, to Beard's, where they were staid for, and so
I put them into the waggon, and saw them going presently, Pall crying
exceedingly. Then in with my wife, my aunt Bell and Charles Pepys, whom
we met there, and drank, and so to my uncle Fenner's to dinner (in the
way meeting a French footman with feathers, who was in quest of my wife,
and spoke with her privately, but I could not tell what it was, only my
wife promised to go to some place to-morrow morning, which do trouble
my mind how to know whither it was), where both his sons and daughters
were, and there we were merry and dined. After dinner news was brought
that my aunt Kite, the butcher's widow in London, is sick ready to die
and sends for my uncle an