he fire. So to the New Exchange,
where I find my wife, and so took her to Unthanke's, and left her there,
and I to White Hall, and thence to Westminster, only out of idleness, and
to get some little pleasure to my 'mauvais flammes', but sped not, so back
and took up my wife; and to Polichinelli at Charing Crosse, which is
prettier and prettier, and so full of variety that it is extraordinary
good entertainment. Thence by coach home, that is, my wife home, and I to
the Exchange, and there met with Fenn, who tells me they have yet no
orders out of the Exchequer for money upon the Acts, which is a thing not
to be borne by any Prince of understanding or care, for no money can be
got advanced upon the Acts only from the weight of orders in form out of
the Exchequer so long time after the passing of the Acts. So home to the
office a little, where I met with a sad letter from my brother, who tells
me my mother is declared by the doctors to be past recovery, and that my
father is also very ill every hour: so that I fear we shall see a sudden
change there. God fit them and us for it! So to Sir W. Pen's, where my
wife was, and supped with a little, but yet little mirth, and a bad, nasty
supper, which makes me not love the family, they do all things so meanly,
to make a little bad show upon their backs. Thence home and to bed, very
much troubled about my father's and my mother's illness.

21st. Up, and to the office, where sat all the morning. At noon home to
dinner, and had some melancholy discourse with my wife about my mother's
being so ill and my father, and after dinner to cheer myself, I having the
opportunity of Sir W. Coventry and the Duke of York's being out of town, I
alone out and to the Duke of York's play-house, where unexpectedly I come
to see only the young men and women of the house act; they having liberty
to act for their own profit on Wednesdays and Fridays this Lent: and the
play they did yesterday, being Wednesday, was so well-taken, that they
thought fit to venture it publickly to-day; a play of my Lord Falkland's'
called "The Wedding Night," a kind of a tragedy, and some things very good
in it, but the whole together, I thought, not so. I confess I was well
enough pleased with my seeing it: and the people did do better, without
the great actors, than I did expect, but yet far short of what they do
when they are there, which I was glad to find the difference of. Thence
to rights home, and there to the