rk.

12th. My wife waked betimes to call up her maids to washing, and so to
bed again, whom I then hugged, it being cold now in the mornings.... Up
by and by, and with Mr. Gawden by coach to St. James's, where we find
the Duke gone a-hunting with the King, but found Sir W. Coventry within,
with whom we discoursed, and he did largely discourse with us about our
speedy falling upon considering of retrenchments in the expense of the
Navy, which I will put forward as much as I can. So having done there I
to Westminster Hall to Burges, and then walked to the New Exchange, and
there to my bookseller's, and did buy Scott's Discourse of Witches; and
do hear Mr. Cowley mightily lamented his death, by Dr. Ward, the Bishop
of Winchester, and Dr. Bates, who were standing there, as the best poet
of our nation, and as good a man. Thence I to the printseller's, over
against the Exchange towards Covent Garden, and there bought a few more
prints of cittys, and so home with them, and my wife and maids being
gone over the water to the whitster's

[A bleacher of linen. "The whitsters of Datchet Mead" are referred
to by Mrs. Ford ("Merry Wives of Windsor," act iii., sc. 3).]

with their clothes, this being the first time of her trying this way
of washing her linen, I dined at Sir W. Batten's, and after dinner, all
alone to the King's playhouse, and there did happen to sit just before
Mrs. Pierce, and Mrs. Knepp, who pulled me by the hair; and so I
addressed myself to them, and talked to them all the intervals of the
play, and did give them fruit. The play is "Brenoralt," which I do find
but little in, for my part. Here was many fine ladies-among others, the
German Baron, with his lady, who is envoye from the Emperour, and their
fine daughter, which hath travelled all Europe over with them, it seems;
and is accordingly accomplished, and indeed, is a wonderful pretty
woman. Here Sir Philip Frowde, who sat next to me, did tell me how Sir
H. Belasses is dead, and that the quarrel between him and Tom Porter,
who is fled, did arise in the ridiculous fashion that I was first told
it, which is a strange thing between two so good friends. The play being
done, I took the women, and Mrs. Corbett, who was with them, by coach,
it raining, to Mrs. Manuel's, the Jew's wife, formerly a player, who
we heard sing with one of the Italians that was there; and, indeed, she
sings mightily well; and just after the Italian manner, but yet do not
pleas