wherein they make themselves a very good tale that they were in pursuit of
thieves, and that they took this man for one of them, and so killed him;
and that he himself confessed it was the first time of his robbing; and
that he did pay dearly for it, for he was a dead man. But I doubt things
will be proved otherwise, as they say. Home to dinner, and by and by
comes Mr. Hunt and his wife to see us and staid a good, while with us.
Then parted, and I to my study in the office. The first time since the
alteracon that I have begun to do business myself there, and I think I
shall be well pleased with it. At night home to supper and to bed.

26th. Mr. Berkenshaw with me all the morning composing of musique to
"This cursed jealousy, what is it," a song of Sir W. Davenant's. After
dinner I went to my Bookseller's, W. Joyce's, and several other places to
pay my debts and do business, I being resolved to cast up my accounts
within a day or two, for I fear I have run out too far. In coming home I
met with a face I knew and challenged him, thinking it had been one of the
Theatre musicians, and did enquire for a song of him, but finding it a
mistake, and that it was a gentleman that comes sometimes to the office, I
was much ashamed, but made a pretty good excuse that I took him for a
gentleman of Gray's Inn who sings well, and so parted. Home for all night
and set things in order and so to bed.

27th. This morning came Mr. Berkenshaw to me and in our discourse I,
finding that he cries up his rules for most perfect (though I do grant
them to be very good, and the best I believe that ever yet were made), and
that I could not persuade him to grant wherein they were somewhat lame, we
fell to angry words, so that in a pet he flung out of my chamber and I
never stopped him, having intended to put him off today, whether this had
happened or no, because I think I have all the rules that he hath to give.
And so there remains not the practice now to do me good, and it is not for