16 June 1670 – 22 June 1670

I went with some friends to the Bear Garden, where was cock-fighting, dog-fighting, bear and bull-baiting, it being a famous day for all these butcherly sports, or rather barbarous cruelties. The bulls did exceedingly well, but the Irish wolf dog exceeded, which was a tall greyhound, a stately creature indeed, who beat a cruel mastiff. One of the bulls tossed a dog full into a lady's lap as she sat in one of the boxes at a considerable height from the arena. Two poor dogs were killed, and so all ended with the ape on horseback, and I most heartily weary of the rude and dirty pastime, which I had not seen, I think, in twenty years before.

Dined at Goring House, whither my Lord Arlington carried me from Whitehall with the Marquis of Worcester; there, we found Lord Sandwich, Viscount Stafford, the Lieutenant of the Tower, and others. After dinner, my Lord communicated to me his Majesty's desire that I would engage to write the history of our late war with the Hollanders, which I had hitherto declined; this I found was ill taken, and that I should disoblige his Majesty, who had made choice of me to do him this service, and, if I would undertake it, I should have all the assistance the Secretary's office and others could give me, with other encouragements, which I could not decently refuse. Lord Stafford rose from the table, in some disorder, because there were roses stuck about the fruit when the dessert was set on the table; such an antipathy, it seems, he had to them as once Lady Selenger also had, and to that degree that, as Sir Kenelm Digby tells us, laying but a rose upon her cheek when she was asleep, it raised a blister: but Sir Kenelm was a teller of strange things.