up with the ambassador’s brother, and there they fell upon Col.  Mayo, who, very gallantly defending himself, received seven dangerous wounds, and lies in a mortal condition.  They fell also upon one Mr. Greenway, of Lincoln’s Inn, as he was walking with his sister in one hand and his mistress in the other (to whom, as I am informed, he was to have been married on Tuesday next), and pistoled him in the head, whereof he died immediately.  They brought with them several earthen jars stuffed with gunpowder, stopped with wax, and fitted with matches, intending, it seems, to have done some mischief to the Exchange that they might complete their revenge, but they were prevented.”

There is an account of their trial in the State Trials, of some interest to lawyers; it resulted in the execution of Don Pantaleon Sa and four of his servants.  By one of those curious fateful coincidences, with which fact often outbids fiction, Mr. Gerard, who was the first Englishman attacked by the Portuguese, suffers on the same scaffold as his would-be murderers, his offence being high treason.  Vowel, the other plotter, is also executed, but the third saves himself, as we know, by confession.

July 20th [1654 in pencil].

I am very sorry I spoke too late, for I am confident this was an excellent servant.  He was in the same house where I lay, and I had taken a great fancy to him, upon what was told me of him and what I saw.  The poor fellow, too, was so pleased that I undertook to inquire out a place for him, that, though mine was, as I told him, uncertain, yet upon the bare hopes on’t he refused two or three good conditions; but I shall set him now at liberty, and not think at all the worse of him for his good-nature.  Sure you go a little too far in your condemnation on’t.  I know it may be abused, as the best things are most subject to be, but in itself ’tis so absolutely necessary that where it is wanting nothing can recompense the miss on’t.  The most contemptible person in the world, if he has that, cannot be justly hated, and the most considerable without it cannot deserve to be loved.  Would to God I had all that good-nature you complain you have too much of, I could find ways enough to dispose on’t amongst myself and my friends; but ’tis well where it is, and I should sooner wish you more on’t than less.

I wonder with what confidence you can complain of my short letters that are so guilty yourself in the same kind.  I have not seen a letter this month which has been above half a sheet.  Never trust me if I write more than you that live in a desolated country where you might finish a romance of ten tomes before anybody interrupted you—­I that live in a house the most filled of any since the Ark, and where, I can assure [you], one has hardly time for the most necessary occasions.  Well, there was never any one thing so much desired and apprehended at the same time as your return is by me; it will certainly, I think, conclude me a very happy or a