tting themselves, and that at first he might have taken every
ship, and done what he would with them. How true I cannot tell. Here
we sat very late and for want of money, which lies heavy upon us, did
nothing of business almost. Thence home with my Lord Bruncker to dinner
where very merry with him and his doxy. After dinner comes Colonell
Blunt in his new chariot made with springs; as that was of wicker,
wherein a while since we rode at his house. And he hath rode, he says,
now this journey, many miles in it with one horse, and out-drives any
coach, and out-goes any horse, and so easy, he says. So for curiosity
I went into it to try it, and up the hill to the heath, and over the
cart-rutts and found it pretty well, but not so easy as he pretends, and
so back again, and took leave of my Lord and drove myself in the chariot
to the office, and there ended my letters and home pretty betimes and
there found W. Pen, and he staid supper with us and mighty merry talking
of his travells and the French humours, etc., and so parted and to bed.

6th. Busy all the morning writing letters to several, so to dinner,
to London, to pack up more things thence; and there I looked into the
street and saw fires burning in the street, as it is through the
whole City, by the Lord Mayor's order. Thence by water to the Duke of
Albemarle's: all the way fires on each side of the Thames, and strange
to see in broad daylight two or three burials upon the Bankeside, one at
the very heels of another: doubtless all of the plague; and yet at
least forty or fifty people going along with every one of them. The Duke
mighty pleasant with me; telling me that he is certainly informed that
the Dutch were not come home upon the 1st instant, and so he hopes our
fleete may meet with them, and here to my great joy I got him to sign
bills for the several sums I have paid on Tangier business by his single
letter, and so now I can get more hands to them. This was a great joy to
me: Home to Woolwich late by water, found wife in bed, and yet late as
[it] was to write letters in order to my rising betimes to go to Povy
to-morrow. So to bed, my wife asking me to-night about a letter of hers
I should find, which indeed Mary did the other day give me as if she had
found it in my bed, thinking it had been mine, brought to her from a
man without name owning great kindness to her and I know not what. But
looking it over seriously, and seeing it bad sense and ill writ, I did
be