Samuel Pepys

Thence Pen and I to Islington, and there, at the old house, eat, and drank, and merry, and there by chance giving two pretty fat boys each of them a cake, they proved to be Captain Holland’s children, whom therefore I pity.

With Sir W. Pen took a hackney, and he and I to Old Street, to a brew-house there, to see Sir Thomas Teddiman, who is very ill in bed of a fever, got, I believe, by the fright the Parliament have put him into, of late. But he is a good man, a good seaman, and stout.

To church again where I did please myself con mes ojos shut in futar in conceit the hook-nosed young lady, a merchant’s daughter, in the upper pew in the church under the pulpit.

At noon comes Mr. Mills and his wife, and Mr. Turner and his wife, by invitation to dinner, and we were mighty merry, and a very pretty dinner, of my Bridget and Nell’s dressing, very handsome.

To church, where I saw Sir A. Rickard, though he be under the Black Rod, by order of the Lords’ House, upon the quarrel between the East India Company and Skinner, which is like to come to a very great heat between the two Houses.

And so home to the Office, ended my letters, and, to spare my eyes, home, and played on my pipes, and so to bed.

Thence to the King’s house to see Knepp, but the play done; and so I took a hackney alone, and to the park, and there spent the evening, and to the lodge, and drank new milk.

But a little boy, for a farce, do dance Polichinelli, the best that ever anything was done in the world, by all men’s report: most pleased with that, beyond anything in the world, and much beyond all the play.

But I had my place, and by and by the King comes and the Duke of York; and then the play begins, called “The Sullen Lovers; or, The Impertinents,” having many good humours in it, but the play tedious, and no design at all in it.

To the Duke of York’s playhouse, at a little past twelve, to get a good place in the pit, against the new play, and there setting a poor man to keep my place, I out, and spent an hour at Martin’s, my bookseller’s, and so back again, where I find the house quite full.

By water, not being able to get a coach, nor boat but a sculler, and that with company, is being so foul a day, to the Old Swan, and so home, and there spent the evening, making Balty read to me, and so to supper and to bed.

To Hercules Pillars, and there dined all alone, and then to the King’s playhouse, and there saw “The Surprizall;” and a disorder in the pit by its raining in, from the cupola at top, it being a very foul day, and cold, so as there are few I believe go to the Park today, if any.

I met my cozen Thomas Pepys of Deptford, and took some turns with him; who is mightily troubled for this Act now passed against Conventicles, and in few words, and sober, do lament the condition we are in, by a negligent Prince and a mad Parliament.

I met Sir W. Pen, who labours to have his answer to his impeachment, and sent down from the Lords’ House, read by the House of Commons; but they are so busy on other matters, that he cannot, and thereby will, as he believes, by design, be prevented from going to sea this year.

So we are all poor, and in pieces — God help us! while the peace is like to go on between Spain and France; and then the French may be apprehended able to attack us. So God help us!

And then the business of religion do disquiet every body, the Parliament being vehement against the Nonconformists, while the King seems to be willing to countenance them.

Our Office able to do little, nobody trusting us, nor we desiring any to trust us, and yet have not money for any thing, but only what particularly belongs to this fleete going out, and that but lamely too.

The kingdom in an ill state through poverty; a fleet going out, and no money to maintain it, or set it out; seamen yet unpaid, and mutinous when pressed to go out again.

Thus ends this month; my wife in the country, myself full of pleasure and expence; and some trouble for my friends, my Lord Sandwich, by the Parliament, and more for my eyes, which are daily worse and worse, that I dare not write or read almost any thing.

Coming home in the dusk, I saw and spoke to our Nell, Pain’s daughter, and had I not been very cold I should have taken her to Tower hill para talk together et tocar her.