xamination, and is the foulest against my Lord Gerard that ever any
thing in the world was, and will, all do believe, ruine him; and I shall
be glad of it. Thence with Lord Brouncker and T. Harvey as far as the New
Exchange, and there at a draper's shop drawing up a short note of what
they are to desire of the House for our having a hearing before they
determine any thing against us, which paper is for them to show to what
friends they meet against to-morrow, I away home to the office, and there
busy pretty late, and here comes my wife to me, who hath been at Pegg
Pen's christening, which, she says, hath made a flutter and noise; but was
as mean as could be, and but little company, just like all the rest that
that family do. So home to supper and to bed, with my head full of a
defence before the Parliament tomorrow, and therein content myself very
well, and with what I have done in preparing some of the members thereof
in order thereto.

22nd. Up, and by coach through Ducke Lane, and there did buy Kircher's
Musurgia, cost me 35s., a book I am mighty glad of, expecting to find
great satisfaction in it. Thence to Westminster Hall and the lobby, and
up and down there all the morning, and to the Lords' House, and heard the
Solicitor-General plead very finely, as he always do; and this was in
defence of the East India Company against a man that complains of wrong
from them, and thus up and down till noon in expectation of our business
coming on in the House of Commons about tickets, but they being busy about
my Lord Gerard's business I did give over the thoughts of ours coming on,
and so with my wife, and Mercer, and Deb., who come to the Hall to me, I
away to the Beare, in Drury Lane, and there bespoke a dish of meat; and,
in the mean time, sat and sung with Mercer; and, by and by, dined with
mighty pleasure, and excellent meat, one little dish enough for us all,
and good wine, and all for 8s., and thence to the Duke's playhouse, and
there saw "Albumazar," an old play, this the second time of acting. It is
said to have been the ground of B. Jonson's "Alchymist;" but, saving the
ridicuiousnesse of Angell's part, which is called Trinkilo, I do not see
any thing extraordinary in it, but was indeed weary of it before it was
done. The King here, and, indeed, all of us, pretty merry at the mimique
tricks of Trinkilo. So home, calling in Ducke Lane for the book I bought
this morning, and so home, and wrote my letters at the o