ven the King a revenue of so many L100,000's
a-year more than his predecessors had, that he might live in pomp, like a
king. After dinner with my Lord Bruncker and his mistress to the King's
playhouse, and there saw "The Indian Emperour;" where I find Nell come
again, which I am glad of; but was most infinitely displeased with her
being put to act the Emperour's daughter; which is a great and serious
part, which she do most basely. The rest of the play, though pretty good,
was not well acted by most of them, methought; so that I took no great
content in it. But that, that troubled me most was, that Knipp sent by
Moll' to desire to speak to me after the play; and she beckoned to me at
the end of the play, and I promised to come; but it was so late, and I
forced to step to Mrs. Williams's lodgings with my Lord Bruncker and her,
where I did not stay, however, for fear of her shewing me her closet, and
thereby forcing me to give her something; and it was so late, that for
fear of my wife's coming home before me, I was forced to go straight home,
which troubled me. Home and to the office a little, and then home and to
my chamber to read, and anon, late, comes home my wife, with Mr. Turner
and Mrs. Turner, with whom she supped, having been with Mrs. Turner to-day
at her daughter's school, to see her daughters dancing, and the rest,
which she says is fine. They gone, I to supper and to bed. My wife very
fine to-day, in her new suit of laced cuffs and perquisites. This evening
Pelling comes to me, and tells me that this night the Dutch letters are
come, and that the peace was proclaimed there the 19th inst., and that all
is finished; which, for my life, I know not whether to be glad or sorry
for, a peace being so necessary, and yet the peace is so bad in its terms.

23rd. Up, and Greeting comes, who brings me a tune for two flageolets,
which we played, and is a tune played at the King's playhouse, which goes
so well, that I will have more of them, and it will be a mighty pleasure
for me to have my wife able to play a part with me, which she will easily,
I find, do. Then abroad to White Hall in a hackney-coach with Sir W. Pen:
and in our way, in the narrow street near Paul's, going the backway by
Tower Street, and the coach being forced to put back, he was turning
himself into a cellar,--[So much of London was yet in ruins.--B]--which
made people cry out to us, and so we were forced to leap out--he out of
one, and I out o