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 by a string about their wrists
Rabbit not half roasted, which made me angry with my wife
Railed bitterly ever and anon against John Calvin
Reading my Latin grammar, which I perceive I have great need
Reckon nothing money but when it is in the bank
Resolve to live well and die a beggar
Sad for want of my wife, whom I love with all my heart
Saw his people go up and down louseing themselves
Scholler, that would needs put in his discourse (every occasion)
Scholler, but, it may be, thinks himself to be too much so
See how time and example may alter a man
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
Servant of the King’s pleasures too, as well as business
She was so ill as to be shaved and pidgeons put to her feet
She is conceited that she do well already
She used the word devil, which vexed me
She begins not at all to take pleasure in me or study to please
So home, and mighty friends with my wife again
So much is it against my nature to owe anything to any body
So home to supper and bed with my father
So home, and after supper did wash my feet, and so to bed
So neat and kind one to another
Softly up to see whether any of the beds were out of order or no
Sorry for doing it now, because of obliging me to do the like
Sporting in my fancy with the Queen
Statute against selling of offices
Talk very highly of liberty of conscience
Taught my wife some part of subtraction
That I might say I saw no money in the paper
That he is not able to live almost with her
The plague is got to Amsterdam, brought by a ship from Argier
The goldsmith, he being one of the jury to-morrow
The house was full of citizens, and so the less pleasant
Thence by coach, with a mad coachman, that drove like mad
There is no passing but by coach in the streets, and hardly that
There is no man almost in the City cares a turd for him
Therefore ought not to expect more justice from her
These young Lords are not fit to do any service abroad
They were so false spelt that I was ashamed of them
They say now a common mistress to the King
Things being dear and little attendance to be had we went away
Though it be but little, yet I do get ground every month
Through the Fleete Ally to see a couple of pretty [strumpets]