4th.  Up betimes and to the office, fitting myself against a great dispute about the East India Company, which spent afterwards with us all the morning.  At noon dined with Sir W. Pen, a piece of beef only, and I counterfeited a friendship and mirth which I cannot have with him, yet out with him by his coach, and he did carry me to a play and pay for me at the King’s house, which is “The Rivall Ladys,” a very innocent and most pretty witty play.  I was much pleased with it, and it being given me, I look upon it as no breach to my oathe.  Here we hear that Clun, one of their best actors, was, the last night, going out of towne (after he had acted the Alchymist, wherein was one of his best parts that he acts) to his country-house, set upon and murdered; one of the rogues taken, an Irish fellow.  It seems most cruelly butchered and bound.  The house will have a great miss of him.  Thence visited my Lady Sandwich, who tells me my Lord FitzHarding is to be made a Marquis.  Thence home to my office late, and so to supper and to bed.

5th.  Up very betimes and set my plaisterer to work about whiting and colouring my musique roome, which having with great pleasure seen done, about ten o’clock I dressed myself, and so mounted upon a very pretty mare, sent me by Sir W. Warren, according to his promise yesterday.  And so through the City, not a little proud, God knows, to be seen upon so pretty a beast, and to my cozen W. Joyce’s, who presently mounted too, and he and I out of towne toward Highgate; in the way, at Kentish-towne, showing me the place and manner of Clun’s being killed and laid in a ditch, and yet was not killed by any wounds, having only one in his arm, but bled to death through his struggling.  He told me, also, the manner of it, of his going home so late [from] drinking with his whore, and manner of having it found out.  Thence forward to Barnett, and there drank, and so by night to Stevenage, it raining a little, but not much, and there to my great trouble, find that my wife was not come, nor any Stamford coach gone down this week, so that she cannot come.  So vexed and weary, and not thoroughly out of pain neither in my old parts, I after supper to bed, and after a little sleep, W. Joyce comes in his shirt into my chamber, with a note and a messenger from my wife, that she was come by Yorke coach to Bigglesworth, and would be with us to-morrow morning.  So, mightily pleased at her discreete action in this business, I with peace to sleep again till next morning.  So up, and

6th.  Here lay Deane Honiwood last night.  I met and talked with him this morning, and a simple priest he is, though a good, well-meaning man.  W. Joyce and I to a game at bowles on the green there till eight o’clock, and then comes my wife in the coach, and a coach full of women, only one man riding by, gone down last night to meet a sister of his coming to town.  So very joyful drank there, not ’lighting, and we mounted and away with