Paris afternoon. Went to see Mr. and Mrs. Rooker and Mr. West, but neither were at home. Walk’d an hour in the Palais Royal: met Mr. Waring there: he tells me that Beaumarchais has written to the king, to complain for his having been sent to St. Lazare. I got of Froullé, the Juvenal with Monsr. Dusaulx’s translation.1