The Table book; . olemnity at this time, I 1683. I went with others into theduchess of Portsmouths dressing-roomewithin her bedchamber, where she was inher morning loose garment, her maidscombing her, newly out of her bed, hismajesty and gallants standing about her. j 1685. January 25, Sunday. Dr. Dovepreached before the king. I saw this even-ing such a scene of profuse gaming, andthe king in the midst of his three concu- bines, as I had never seen before, luxuriousdallying and prophaneness. February 6. The king died. I can neverforget the inexpressible luxury and pro-phanenesse, gaming, and a
The Table book; . olemnity at this time, I 1683. I went with others into theduchess of Portsmouths dressing-roomewithin her bedchamber, where she was inher morning loose garment, her maidscombing her, newly out of her bed, hismajesty and gallants standing about her. j 1685. January 25, Sunday. Dr. Dovepreached before the king. I saw this even-ing such a scene of profuse gaming, andthe king in the midst of his three concu- bines, as I had never seen before, luxuriousdallying and prophaneness. February 6. The king died. I can neverforget the inexpressible luxury and pro-phanenesse, gaming, and all dissoluteness,and, as it were, total forgetfulness of God,(it being Sunday evening,) which this daysennight I was witnesse of. The kingsitting and toying with his concubinesPortsmouth, Cleavland, and Mazarine, & a French boy singing love songs ;whilst about twenty of the great courtiersand other dissolute persons were at bassetround a large table, a bank of at least 2000in gold before them. Evelyn. 83Q. THE COTTAGE WHEREIN ROBERT BLOOMFIELD WAS BORN,AT HONINGTON, IN SUFFOLK. Accompanying the portrait and papersof George Bloomfield, copied and referredto in the preceding sheet of the TableBook, was a drawing, taken in Octoberlast, of Robert Bloomfields engraving of it is here presented, in orderto introduce the following memorandumdrawn up by George Bloomfield, and nowlying before me in his hand-writing, viz. The PoExrcAL Freehold. February A, 1822, was sold atHoning-ton Fox, the old cottage, the natal place ofRobert Bloomfield, the Farmer s Boy. My father, a lively little man, pre-cisely five feet high, was a tailor, con-stantly employed in snapping the cat, thatis, he worked tor the farmers at their ownhouses, at a shilling per day and his was a gay knight of the thimble, andas he wore a fashionable coat with a verynarrow back, the villagers called himGeorge Narrowback. My mother theycalled Mrs. Prim. She was a spruce, neatbody, and was the vill
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