Hanged with a silken halter
     He is too wise to be made a friend of
     He hoped he should live to see her “ugly and willing”
     He having made good promises, though I fear his performance
     His readiness to speak spoilt all
     How highly the Presbyters do talk in the coffeehouses still
     I calling her beggar, and she me pricklouse, which vexed me
     I and she never were so heartily angry in our lives as to-day
     I do not find other people so willing to do business as myself
     I slept most of the sermon
     I was very angry, and resolve to beat him to-morrow
     Ill humour to be so against that which all the world cries up
     In some churches there was hardly ten people in the whole church
     Insurrection of the Catholiques there
     It must be the old ones that must do any good
     Jealous, though God knows I have no great reason
     John has got a wife, and for that he intends to part with him
     Justice of proceeding not to condemn a man unheard
     Keep at interest, which is a good, quiett, and easy profit
     King was gone to play at Tennis
     Lady Castlemaine hath all the King’s Christmas presents
     Lay long in bed talking and pleasing myself with my wife
     Lay very long with my wife in bed talking with great pleasure
     Lay chiding, and then pleased with my wife in bed
     Liability of a husband to pay for goods supplied his wife
     Many thousands in a little time go out of England
     Matters in Ireland are full of discontent
     Money, which sweetens all things
     Most flat dead sermon, both for matter and manner of delivery
     Much discourse, but little to be learned
     My maid Susan ill, or would be thought so
     My wife has got too great head to be brought down soon
     My wife and her maid Ashwell had between them spilled the pot. . .
.
     No more matter being made of the death of one than another
     No sense nor grammar, yet in as good words that ever I saw
     Nor will yield that the Papists have any ground given them
     Nor would become obliged too much to any
     Nothing in the world done with true integrity
     Nothing of any truth and sincerity, but mere envy and design
     Nothing is to be got without offending God and the King
     Once a week or so I know a gentleman must go . . . . 
     Opening his mind to him as of one that may hereafter be his foe
     Out of an itch to look upon the sluts there
     Pain of the stone, and makes bloody water with great pain
     Parliament do agree to throw down Popery
     Pen was then turned Quaker
     Persuade me that she should prove with child since last night
     Plague is much in Amsterdam, and we in fears of it here
     Pride and debauchery of the present clergy
     Pride himself too much in it
     Quakers being charmed