8th. Waked, and fell in talk with my wife about the letter, and she
satisfied me that she did not know from whence it come, but believed it
might be from her cozen Franke Moore lately come out of France. The truth
is the thing I think cannot have much in it, and being unwilling (being in
other things so much at ease) to vex myself in a strange place at a
melancholy time, passed all by and were presently friends. Up, and
several with me about business. Anon comes my Lord Bruncker, as I
expected, and we to the enquiring into the business of the late desertion
of the Shipwrights from worke, who had left us for three days together for
want of money, and upon this all the morning, and brought it to a pretty
good issue, that they, we believe, will come to-morrow to work. To dinner,
having but a mean one, yet sufficient for him, and he well enough pleased,
besides that I do not desire to vye entertainments with him or any else.
Here was Captain Cocke also, and Mr. Wayth. We staid together talking
upon one business or other all the afternoon. In the evening my Lord
Bruncker hearing that Mr. Ackeworth's clerke, the Dutchman who writes and
draws so well, was transcribing a book of Rates and our ships for Captain
Millet a gallant of his mistress's, we sent for him for it. He would not
deliver it, but said it was his mistress's and had delivered it to her.
At last we were forced to send to her for it; she would come herself, and
indeed the book was a very neat one and worth keeping as a rarity, but we
did think fit, and though much against my will, to cancell all that he had
finished of it, and did give her the rest, which vexed her, and she bore
it discreetly enough, but with a cruel deal of malicious rancour in her
looks. I must confess I would have persuaded her to have let us have it
to the office, and it may be the board would not have censured too hardly
of it, but my intent was to have had it as a Record for the office, but
she foresaw what would be the end of it and so desired it might rather be
cancelled, which was a plaguy deal of spite. My Lord Bruncker being gone