Mr.
Hunt, newly come out of the country, tells me the country is much
impoverished by the greatness of taxes: the farmers do break
every day almost, and 1000l. a year become not worth 500l. He
told me some ridiculous pieces of thrift of Sir G. Downing's, who
is his countryman, in inviting some poor people at Christmas
last, to charm the country people's mouths; but did give them
nothing but beef, porridge, pudding, and pork, and nothing said
all dinner, but only his mother would say, "It's good broth,
son." He would answer, "Yes, it is good broth." Then says his
lady, "Confirm all, and say, Yes, very good broth." By and by
she would begin and say, "Good pork:" "Yes," says the mother,
"good pork." Then he cries, "Yes, very good pork." And so they
said of all things; to which nobody made any answer, they going
there not out of love or esteem of them, but to eat his victuals,
knowing him to be a, niggardly fellow; and with this he is jeered
now all over the country. Met Mr. Cooling, who tells me of my
Lord Duke of Buckingham's being sent for last night by a Sergeant
at Armes to the Tower for treasonable practices, and that the
King is infinitely angry with him, and declared him no longer one
of his Council.
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