He told me that he had so good spies He did very well, but a deadly drinker he is He made the great speech of his life, and spoke for three hours He made but a poor sermon, but long He knew nothing about the navy He is such innocent company He has been inconvenienced by being too free in discourse He having made good promises, though I fear his performance He hoped he should live to see her “ugly and willing” He is too wise to be made a friend of He was fain to lie in the priest’s hole a good while He and I lay in one press bed, there being two more He was charged with making himself popular He that must do the business, or at least that can hinder it He is, I perceive, wholly sceptical, as well as I He is a man of no worth in the world but compliment He will do no good, he being a man of an unsettled head He is not a man fit to be told what one hears Hear that the plague is come into the City Hear something of the effects of our last meeting (pregnancy?) Heard noises over their head upon the leads Heeling her on one side to make her draw little water Helping to slip their calfes when there is occasion Her months upon her is gone to bed Her impudent tricks and ways of getting money Here I first saw oranges grow Hired her to procure this poor soul for him His enemies have done him as much good as he could wish His readiness to speak spoilt all His wife and three children died, all, I think, in a day His disease was the pox and that he must be fluxed (Rupert) His satisfaction is nothing worth, it being easily got His company ever wearys me History of this day’s growth, we cannot tell the truth Holes for me to see from my closet into the great office Hopes to have had a bout with her before she had gone Horrid malicious bloody flame House of Lords is the last appeal that a man can make Houses marked with a red cross upon the doors How the Presbyterians would be angry if they durst How highly the Presbyters do talk in the coffeehouses still How little merit do prevail in the world, but only favour How little heed is had to the prisoners and sicke and wounded How do the children?  How sad a sight it is to see the streets empty of people How Povy overdoes every thing in commending it How unhppily a man may fall into a necessity of bribing people How natural it is for us to slight people out of power How little to be presumed of in our greatest undertakings Hugged, it being cold now in the mornings . . . .  Hunt up and down with its mouth if you touch the cheek I went in and kissed them, demanding it as a fee due I had the opportunity of kissing Mrs. Rebecca very often I took occasion to be angry with him I could not forbear to love her exceedingly I do not value her, or mind her as I ought I did what I would, and might have done anything else I never did observe so much of myself in my life I broke wind and so came to some ease I would fain have stolen a pretty dog that followed me I have itched mightily these 6 or 7 days I know not whether to be glad or sorry I was as merry as