ather being become pretty warm again,
and to the office, where we sat all the morning, and I confess having
received so lately a token from Mrs. Russell, I did find myself
concerned for our not buying some tallow of her (which she bought on
purpose yesterday most unadvisedly to her great losse upon confidence of
putting it off to us). So hard it is for a man not to be warped against
his duty and master's interest that receives any bribe or present,
though not as a bribe, from any body else. But she must be contented,
and I to do her a good turn when I can without wrong to the King's
service. Then home to dinner (and did drink a glass of wine and beer,
the more for joy that this is the shortest day in the year,--[Old
Style]--which is a pleasant consideration) with my wife. She in bed but
pretty well, and having a messenger from my brother, that he is not well
nor stirs out of doors, I went forth to see him, and found him below,
he has not been well, but is not ill. I found him taking order for the
distribution of Mrs. Ramsey's coals, a thing my father for many years
did, and now he after him, which I was glad to see, as also to hear that
Mr. Wheatly begins to look after him. I hope it is about his daughter.
Thence to St. Paul's Church Yard, to my bookseller's, and having gained
this day in the office by my stationer's bill to the King about 40s. or
L3, I did here sit two or three hours calling for twenty books to lay
this money out upon, and found myself at a great losse where to choose,
and do see how my nature would gladly return to laying out money in
this trade. I could not tell whether to lay out my money for books of
pleasure, as plays, which my nature was most earnest in; but at last,
after seeing Chaucer, Dugdale's History of Paul's, Stows London, Gesner,
History of Trent, besides Shakespeare, Jonson, and Beaumont's plays,
I at last chose Dr. Fuller's Worthys, the Cabbala or Collections of
Letters of State, and a little book, Delices de Hollande, with another
little book or two, all of good use or serious pleasure: and Hudibras,
both parts, the book now in greatest fashion for drollery, though I
cannot, I confess, see enough where the wit lies. My mind being thus
settled, I went by linke home, and so to my office, and to read in
Rushworth; and so home to supper and to bed. Calling at Wotton's, my
shoemaker's, today, he tells me that Sir H. Wright is dying; and that
Harris is come to the Duke's house again; and of a