the
Prince of Orange, afterwards William III.--all of whose hands Pepys
kissed, after dinner. The King and Duke of York changed the names of the
ships. The 'Rumpers,' as Pepys calls the Parliamentarians, had given one
the name of the 'Nazeby;' and that was now christened the 'Charles:'
'Richard' was changed into 'James.' The 'Speaker' into 'Mary,' the
'Lambert,' was 'Henrietta,' and so on. How merry the king must have
been whilst he thus turned the Roundheads, as it were, off the ocean;
and how he walked here and there, up and down, (quite contrary to what
Samuel Pepys 'expected,') and fell into discourse of his escape from
Worcester, and made Samuel 'ready to weep' to hear of his travelling
four days and three nights on foot, up to his knees in dirt, with
'nothing but a green coat and a pair of breeches on,' (worse and worse,
thought Pepys,) and a pair of country shoes that made his feet sore; and
how, at one place he was made to drink by the servants, to show he was
not a Roundhead; and how, at another place--and Charles, the best teller
of a story in his own dominions, may here have softened his tone--the
master of the house, an innkeeper, as the king was standing by the fire,
with his hands on the back of a chair, kneeled down and kissed his hand
'privately,' saying he could not ask him who he was, but bid 'God bless
him, where he was going!'

Then, rallying after this touch of pathos, Charles took his hearers over
to Fecamp, in France--thence to Rouen, where, he said, in his easy,
irresistible way, 'I looked so poor that the people went into the rooms
before I went away, to see if I had not stolen something or other.'

With what reverence and sympathy did our Pepys listen; but he was forced
to hurry off to get Lord Berkeley a bed; and with 'much ado' (as one may
believe) he did get 'him to bed with My Lord Middlesex;' so, after
seeing these two peers of the realm in that dignified predicament--two
in a bed--'to my cabin again,' where the company were still talking of
the king's difficulties, and how his Majesty was fain to eat a piece of
bread and cheese out of a poor body's pocket; and, at a Catholic house,
how he lay a good while 'in the Priest's Hole, for privacy.'

In all these hairbreadth escapes--of which the king spoke with
infinite humour and good feeling--one name was perpetually
introduced:--George--George Villiers, _Villers_, as the royal narrator
called him; for the name was so pronounced formerly. A