. . .
So great a trouble is fear
Those bred in the North among the colliers are good for labour
Tied our men back to back, and thrown them all into the sea
Too much of it will make her know her force too much
Up, leaving my wife in bed, being sick of her months
When she least shews it hath her wit at work
Where money is free, there is great plenty
Who is the most, and promises the least, of any man
Wife that brings me nothing almost (besides a comely person)
DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS, MAR/APR 1964/65 [sp40g10.txt]
Castlemayne is sicke again, people think, slipping her filly
Desired me that I would baste his coate
Did put evil thoughts in me, but proceeded no further
France, which is accounted the best place for bread
How Povy overdoes every thing in commending it
Never could man say worse himself nor have worse said
Wanton as ever she was, with much I made myself merry and away
DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS, MAY/JUN 1665 [sp41g10.txt]
A vineyard, the first that ever I did see
All the towne almost going out of towne (Plague panic)
Buy some roll-tobacco to smell to and chaw
Consult my pillow upon that and every great thing of my life
Convenience of periwiggs is so great
Dying this last week of the plague 112, from 43 the week before
Hear that the plague is come into the City
Houses marked with a red cross upon the doors
My old folly and childishnesse hangs upon me still
Plague claimed 68,596 victims (in 1665)
Pride of some persons and vice of most was but a sad story
The coachman that carried [us] cannot know me again
Though neither of us care 2d.
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