txt]
Being five years behindhand for their wages (court musicians)
But fit she should live where he hath a mind
Gladder to have just now received it (than a promise)
Most homely widow, but young, and pretty rich, and good natured
No Parliament can, as he says, be kept long good
Peace with France, which, as a Presbyterian, he do not like
That I may have nothing by me but what is worth keeping
Weary of the following of my pleasure
DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS, 1666 N.S. COMPLETE [sp56g10.txt]
A cat will be a cat still
About the nature of sounds
About my new closet, for my mind is full of nothing but that
After a harsh word or two my wife and I good friends
All the innocent pleasure in the world
Amending of bad blood by borrowing from a better body
And if ever I fall on it again, I deserve to be undone
And for his beef, says he, "Look how fat it is"
Angry, and so continued till bed, and did not sleep friends
Apprehension of the King of France's invading us
As very a gossip speaking of her neighbours as any body
Ashamed at myself for this losse of time
Baited at Islington, and so late home about 11 at night
Beare-garden
Begun to write idle and from the purpose
Being there, and seeming to do something, while we do not
Being examined at Allgate, whether we were husbands and wives
Being five years behindhand for their wages (court musicians)
Better the musique, the more sicke it makes him
Bill against importing Irish cattle
Bringing over one discontented man, you raise up three
But pretty! how I took another pretty woman for her
But fit she should live where he hath a mind
But how many years I cannot tell; but my wife says ten
By and by met at her chamber, and there did what I would
Called at a little ale-house, and had an eele pye
Catholiques are everywhere and bold
Checking her last night in the coach in her long stories
Contempt of the ceremoniousnesse of the King of Spayne
Counterfeit mirthe and pleasure with them, but had but little
Did tumble them all the afternoon as I pleased
Did drink of the College beer, which is very good
Did dig another, and put our wine in it; and I my Parmazan cheese
Discoursing upon the sad condition of the times
Do bury still of the plague seven or eight in a day
Driven down again with a stinke by Sir W.
Pages:
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79