Pepy's Diary. 27 Mar 1668. Thence to the Swan [Map] and drank, and did baiser Frank, and so down by water back again, and to the Exchange [Map] a turn or two, only to show myself, and then home to dinner, where my wife and I had a small squabble, but I first this day tried the effect of my silence and not provoking her when she is in an ill humour, and do find it very good, for it prevents its coming to that height on both sides which used to exceed what was fit between us. So she become calm by and by and fond, and so took coach, and she to the mercer's to buy some lace, while I to White Hall, but did nothing, but then to Westminster Hall [Map] and took a turn, and so to Mrs. Martin's, and there did sit a little and talk and drink, and did hazer con her, and so took coach and called my wife at Unthanke's, and so up and down to the Nursery, where they did not act, then to the New Cockpit and there missed, and then to Hide Parke, where many coaches, but the dust so great, that it was troublesome, and so by night home, where to my chamber and finished my pricking out of my song for Mr. Harris (age 34) ("It is decreed"), and so a little supper, being very sleepy and weary since last night, and so by to o'clock to bed and slept well all night. This day, at noon, comes Mr. Pelling to me, and shews me the stone cut lately out of Sir Thomas Adams' (deceased) (the old comely Alderman's) body, which is very large indeed, bigger I think than my fist, and weighs above twenty-five ounces and, which is very miraculous, he never in all his life had any fit of it, but lived to a great age without pain, and died at last of something else, without any sense of this in all his life. This day Creed at White Hall in discourse told me what information he hath had, from very good hands, of the cowardice and ill-government of Sir Jer. Smith and Sir Thomas Allen (age 35), and the repute they have both of them abroad in the Streights, from their deportment when they did at several times command there; and that, above all Englishmen that ever were there, there never was any man that behaved himself like poor Charles Wager, whom the very Moores do mention, with teares sometimes.