great need
Sad for want of my wife, whom I love with all my heart
Saw his people go up and down louseing themselves
See whether my wife did wear drawers to-day as she used to do
Sent me last night, as a bribe, a barrel of sturgeon
She begins not at all to take pleasure in me or study to please
She used the word devil, which vexed me
So home, and after supper did wash my feet, and so to bed
Softly up to see whether any of the beds were out of order or no
Statute against selling of offices
The goldsmith, he being one of the jury to-morrow
Thence by coach, with a mad coachman, that drove like mad
Therefore ought not to expect more justice from her
They say now a common mistress to the King
Through the Fleete Ally to see a couple of pretty [strumpets]
Upon a small temptation I could be false to her
Waked this morning between four and five by my blackbird
Whose voice I am not to be reconciled
Wife and the dancing-master alone above, not dancing but talking
Would not make my coming troublesome to any

Diary of Samuel Pepys, Jul/Aug 1663 [sp27g10.txt]

And so to bed and there entertained her with great content
Apprehend about one hundred Quakers
Being cleansed of lice this day by my wife
Conceited, but that’s no matter to me
Fear it may do him no good, but me hurt
Fearful that I might not go far enough with my hat off
He having made good promises, though I fear his performance
My wife has got too great head to be brought down soon
So much is it against my nature to owe anything to any body
Sporting in my fancy with the Queen
Things being dear and little attendance to be had we went away
Towzing her and doing what I would, but the last thing of all. . . .

Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sep/Oct 1663 [sp28g10.txt]

And so to sleep till the morning, but was bit cruelly
And there, did what I would with her
Content as to be at our own home, after being abroad awhile
Found guilty, and likely will be hanged (for stealing spoons)
Half a pint of Rhenish wine at the Still-yard, mixed with beer
His readiness to speak spoilt all
No more matter being made of the death of one than another
Out of an itch to look upon the sluts there
Plague is much in Amsterdam, and we in fears of it here
Pride himself too much in it
Reckon nothing money but when it is in the bank
Resolve to live well and die a beggar
Scholler, that would needs put in his discourse (every occasion)
She was so ill as to be shaved and pidgeons put to her feet
The plague is got to Amsterdam, brought by a ship from Argier
We having no luck in maids now-a-days
Who is over head and eares in getting her house up

Diary of Samuel Pepys, Nov/Dec 1663 [sp29g10.txt]