YOUNG COURTIER’S LIFE IN LONDON, C. 1630
(Autobiography of Thomas Raymond. Ed. G. Davies. Camden Series III, Vol. 28, p. 26)
I was taken from the Citty, where I expected to be planted, and brought to Courte, attending my unkle, whoe grew so rigorous that my life thereby became very unpleasant, and leaving the Citty for the Courte I was with the proverbe fallen out of the frying pan into the fier. Long waiting and short meales, sometimes cutt wholly out at my first coming by the voracity and nimbleness of the courtiers, and if by chance I was necessitated to make to our lodgings for dynner, I was sure to be entertayned with a look and words would almost fright the devill. But after a while by getting courage and acquaintance I made partly shift abroade, choosing rather to fast then go home and be rated. I remember my aunt was one day seemingly very importunate with a good neighbour woman, whoe came to visit her, to stay and dyne with hir. Whereupon my aunt called to hir mayde, “Nan sett on the whole rash of mutton,” which the good woman hearing tooke occasion to break away, haveing a farre better dynner at home.
Another tyme there was boyling on the fier in my unkle’s chamber a pipkin of pease pottage, and a Lord comeing to him unexpectedly on the sudden aboute business, with stifling aboute least the pipkin should be seene it was throwne downe, broke, and all the porridge aboute the chamber—a woefull disaster to my aunt for the losse of hir belly tymber, and to my unkle least the Lord should have taken us in our cookery and misfortune. But the Lord was encountered before he could perceive the mischeife, a miscarriage that often made me laugh heartily. Our lodgings were in a little straight howse built in a corner on the lefte hand as soon as you are out of the East door of Westminster Abbey, bellonging to one of the vergers of the Church, and is since demolished. My chanber was just under there, high towards on pynacle of the Abbey, and in rayney or wyndy nights there would fall downe upon the leades of the roofe of my chanber such huge pieces of freestone (those parts of the Church being much decayed and dayly decaying) that I often tymes thought I should be knocked on the head before morning. My unkle, being wondered at and sometymes laughed at for the place of his lodgings ... had a story to defend it....
Our remove from these lodgings was to Whitehall, and there in the third story of the first greate stone gate passing towards King strete where are kept the papers of state, whereof my unkle was now one of the clerkes and keepers. And here my condition was somewhat better ... that I was saved from the feare of being brayned in my bed, and only my legs had here the worst ont by mounting soe high soe often in the day.