with a few ministers among them; and I make no doubt that Dr.
Tonge was there, though I did not see him. But I did see a merry face
which I thought was Mistress Nell Gwyn's; and whether it was she or not
that I saw, I heard afterwards that she had been there, to His Majesty's
great displeasure.

And in the same group I saw Mr. Killigrew's face--that had been page to
Charles the First, and came back to be page to his son--for his
grotesque and yet fine face was unmistakable; the profligate fop Sir
George Etheredge, gambler and lampooner, with drink and the devil all
over him; solemn Thomas Thynne, murdered two years afterwards, for a
woman's sake, by Count Conigsmark, who was hanged for it and lay in
great state in a satin coffin; and last, my Lord Dover, with his great
head and little legs, looking at the people through a tortoiseshell
glass. The Court, or at least, some of it, enjoyed itself here, in spite
of the character of the demonstration. Meanwhile out of sight a great
voice shouted jests and catchwords resonantly from time to time, to
amuse the people; and the crowd, that was by now packed everywhere
against the houses, upon the roofs and even up Chancery Lane, answered
his hits with roaring cheers. I heard the name of the Duke of Monmouth
several times; and each time it was received with acclamation. Once the
Duke of York's was called out; and the booing and murring at it were
great enough to have daunted even him. (But he was in Scotland now--too
far away to hear it--and seemed like to remain there.) And once Mrs.
Gwyn's name was shouted, and something else after it; and there was a
stir on the platform where I thought I had seen her; and then a great
burst of cheering; for she was popular enough, in spite of her life, for
her Protestantism. (It was not works, they hated, thought I to myself,
but Faith!)

The first that I knew of the coming of the procession was the sound of
fifes up Fleet Street; and a great jostling and roaring that followed it
by those who strove to see better. I was distracted for an instant by a
dog that ran out suddenly, tail down, into the open space and
disappeared again yelping. When I turned again the head of the
procession was in sight, coming into view round the house that was next
to Mr. Martin's.

First, between the torches that lined the procession through all its
length, came a band of fifers, very fine, in scarlet tunics and stiff
beaver-hats; shrilling a dirge as they wal