sad story of Queen Elizabeth, from my cradle,
that I was ready to weep for her sometimes; but the play is the most
ridiculous that sure ever come upon the stage; and, indeed, is merely a
shew, only shews the true garbe of the Queen in those days, just as we
see Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth painted; but the play is merely a
puppet play, acted by living puppets. Neither the design nor language
better; and one stands by and tells us the meaning of things: only I was
pleased to see Knipp dance among the milkmaids, and to hear her sing a
song to Queen Elizabeth; and to see her come out in her night-gowne with
no lockes on, but her bare face and hair only tied up in a knot behind;
which is the comeliest dress that ever I saw her in to her advantage.
Thence home and went as far as Mile End with Sir W. Pen, whose coach
took him up there for his country-house; and after having drunk there,
at the Rose and Crowne, a good house for Alderman Bides ale,--[John
Bide, brewer, Sheriff of London in 1647.--B.]--we parted, and we home,
and there I finished my letters, and then home to supper and to bed.

18th (Lord's day). Up, and being ready, walked up and down to Cree
Church, to see it how it is; but I find no alteration there, as they say
there was, for my Lord Mayor and Aldermen to come to sermon, as they do
every Sunday, as they did formerly to Paul's. Walk back home and to our
own church, where a dull sermon and our church empty of the best sort of
people, they being at their country houses, and so home, and there dined
with me Mr. Turner and his daughter Betty.

[Betty Turner, who is frequently mentioned after this date, appears
to have been a daughter of Serjeant John Turner and his wife Jane,
and younger sister of Theophila Turner (see January 4th, 6th,
1668-69).]

Her mother should, but they were invited to Sir J. Minnes, where she
dined and the others here with me. Betty is grown a fine lady as to
carriage and discourse. I and my wife are mightily pleased with her. We
had a good haunch of venison, powdered and boiled, and a good dinner and
merry. After dinner comes Mr. Pelling the Potticary, whom I had sent for
to dine with me, but he was engaged. After sitting an hour to talk we
broke up, all leaving Pelling to talk with my wife, and I walked towards
White Hall, but, being wearied, turned into St. Dunstan's Church, where
I heard an able sermon of the minister of the place; and stood by a
pretty, modest