3 August 1654 – 9 August 1654

We passed next through Warwick, and saw the castle, the dwelling house of the Lord Brook, and the furniture noble. It is built on an eminent rock which gives prospect into a most goodly green, a woody and plentifully watered country; the river running so delightfully under it, that it may pass for one of the most surprising seats one should meet with. The gardens are prettily disposed; but might be much improved. Here they showed us Sir Guy's great two-handed sword, staff, horse-arms, pot, and other relics of that famous knight-errant. Warwick is a fair old town, and hath one church full of ancient monuments. Having viewed these, I went to visit my worthy friend, Sir H. Puckering, at the Abbey, and though a melancholy old seat, yet in a rich soil. Hence to Sir Guy's grot, where they say he did his penances, and died. It is a squalid den made in the rock, crowned yet with venerable oaks and looking on a goodly stream, so as, were it improved as it might be, it were capable of being made a most romantic and pleasant place. Near this, we were showed his chapel and gigantic statue hewn out of the solid rock, out of which there are likewise divers other caves cut, and some very capacious. The next place to Coventry. The cross is remarkable for Gothic work and rich gilding, comparable to any I had ever seen, except that of Cheapside in London, now demolished. This city has many handsome churches, a beautiful wall, a fair free school and library to it; the streets full of great shops, clean and well paved. At going forth the gate, they show us the bone, or rib, of a wild boar, said to have been killed by Sir Guy, but which I take to be the chine of a whale.

Hence, riding through a considerable part of Leicestershire, an open, rich, but unpleasant country, we came late in the evening to Horninghold, a seat of my wife's uncle.

Went to Uppingham, the shire town of Rutland, pretty and well built of stone, which is a rarity in that part of England, where most of the rural parishes are but of mud; and the people living as wretchedly as in the most impoverished parts of France, which they much resemble, being idle and sluttish. The country (especially Leicestershire) much in common; the gentry free drinkers.

To the old and ragged city of Leicester, large and pleasantly seated, but despicably built, the chimney flues like so many smiths' forges; however, famous for the tomb of the tyrant, Richard III., which is now converted to a cistern, at which (I think) cattle drink. Also, here in one of the churches lies buried the magnificent Cardinal Wolsey. John of Gaunt has here also built a large but poor hospital, near which a wretch has made him a house out of the ruins of a stately church. Saw the ruins of an old Roman Temple, thought to be of Janus. Entertained at a very fine collection of fruits, such as I did not expect to meet with so far North, especially very good melons. We returned to my uncle's.