[A beverage consisting of ale mixed with sugar, nutmeg, and the pulp of roasted apples. “A cupp of lamb’s-wool they dranke unto him then.” The King and the Miller of Mansfield (Percy’s “Reliques,” Series iii., book ii., No. 20).]
So to bed.
10th. Up and to the office, where Sir W. Coventry come to tell us that the Parliament did fall foul of our accounts again yesterday; and we must arme to have them examined, which I am sorry for: it will bring great trouble to me, and shame upon the office. My head full this morning how to carry on Captain Cocke’s bargain of hemp, which I think I shall by my dexterity do, and to the King’s advantage as well as my own. At noon with my Lord Bruncker and Sir Thomas Harvy, to Cocke’s house, and there Mrs. Williams and other company, and an excellent dinner. Mr. Temple’s wife; after dinner, fell to play on the harpsicon, till she tired everybody, that I left the house without taking leave, and no creature left standing by her to hear her. Thence I home and to the office, where late doing of business, and then home. Read an hour, to make an end of Potter’s Discourse of the Number 666, which I like all along, but his close is most excellent; and, whether it be right or wrong, is mighty ingenious. Then to supper and to bed. This is the fatal day that every body hath discoursed for a long time to be the day that the Papists, or I know not who, had designed to commit a massacre upon; but, however, I trust in God we shall rise to-morrow morning as well as ever. This afternoon Creed comes to me, and by him, as, also my Lady Pen, I hear that my Lady Denham is exceeding sick, even to death, and that she says, and every body else discourses, that she is poysoned; and Creed tells me, that it is said that there hath been a design to poison the King. What the meaning of all these sad signs is, the Lord knows; but every day things look worse and worse. God fit us for the worst!