amous new play acted the first time to-day, which is called "The
Adventures of Five Hours," at the Duke's house, being, they say, made or
translated by Colonel Tuke, I did long to see it; and so made my wife to
get her ready, though we were forced to send for a smith, to break open
her trunk, her mayde Jane being gone forth with the keys, and so we
went; and though early, were forced to sit almost out of sight, at the
end of one of the lower forms, so full was the house. And the play,
in one word, is the best, for the variety and the most excellent
continuance of the plot to the very end, that ever I saw, or think ever
shall, and all possible, not only to be done in the time, but in most
other respects very admittable, and without one word of ribaldry;
and the house, by its frequent plaudits, did show their sufficient
approbation. So home; with much ado in an hour getting a coach home,
and, after writing letters at my office, I went home to supper and to
bed, now resolving to set up my rest as to plays till Easter, if not
Whitsuntide next, excepting plays at Court.

9th. Waking in the morning, my wife I found also awake, and begun
to speak to me with great trouble and tears, and by degrees from one
discourse to another at last it appears that Sarah has told somebody
that has told my wife of my meeting her at my brother's and making her
sit down by me while she told me stories of my wife, about her giving
her scallop to her brother, and other things, which I am much vexed at,
for I am sure I never spoke any thing of it, nor could any body tell
her but by Sarah's own words. I endeavoured to excuse my silence herein
hitherto by not believing any thing she told me, only that of the
scallop which she herself told me of. At last we pretty good friends,
and my wife begun to speak again of the necessity of her keeping
somebody to bear her company; for her familiarity with her other
servants is it that spoils them all, and other company she hath none,
which is too true, and called for Jane to reach her out of her trunk,
giving her the keys to that purpose, a bundle of papers, and pulls out
a paper, a copy of what, a pretty while since, she had wrote in a
discontent to me, which I would not read, but burnt. She now read it,
and it was so piquant, and wrote in English, and most of it true, of the
retiredness of her life, and how unpleasant it was; that being wrote in
English, and so in danger of being met with and read by others, I