After oysters, at first course, a hash of rabbits, a lamb At last we pretty good friends Before I sent my boy out with them, I beat him for a lie Dr. Calamy is this day sent to Newgate for preaching Eat a mouthful of pye at home to stay my stomach Familiarity with her other servants is it that spoils them all Feverish, and hath sent for Mr. Pierce to let him blood Found him a fool, as he ever was, or worse Goes down the wind in honour as well as every thing else Had a good supper of an oxe's cheek Hanged with a silken halter How highly the Presbyters do talk in the coffeehouses still I and she never were so heartily angry in our lives as to-day Ill humour to be so against that which all the world cries up Lady Castlemaine hath all the King's Christmas presents Lay chiding, and then pleased with my wife in bed Lay very long with my wife in bed talking with great pleasure Liability of a husband to pay for goods supplied his wife Many thousands in a little time go out of England Money, which sweetens all things Most flat dead sermon, both for matter and manner of delivery Much discourse, but little to be learned Nor will yield that the Papists have any ground given them Nothing in the world done with true integrity Once a week or so I know a gentleman must go . . . . Pain of the stone, and makes bloody water with great pain Rabbit not half roasted, which made me angry with my wife Scholler, but, it may be, thinks himself to be too much so See how time and example may alter a man Servant of the King's pleasures too, as well as business So home, and mighty friends with my wife again So neat and kind one to another Sorry for doing it now, because of obliging me to do the like Talk very highly of liberty of conscience The house was full of citizens, and so the less pleasant There is no passing but by coach in the streets, and hardly that These young Lords are not fit to do any service abroad They were so false spelt that I was ashamed of them Vexed at my wife's neglect in leaving of her scarf Wine, new and old, with labells pasted upon each bottle With much ado in an hour getting a coach home Yet it was her fault not to see that I did take them DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS, MAR/APR 1662/63 [sp25g10.txt]