Broken sort of people, that have not much to lose
But so fearful I am of discontenting my wife
By her wedding-ring, I suppose he hath married her at last
Dine with them, at my cozen Roger’s mistress’s
Drawing up a foul draught of my petition to the Duke of York
Dutchmen come out of the mouth and tail of a Hamburgh sow
Fain to keep a woman on purpose at 20s. a week
Find it a base copy of a good originall, that vexed me
Found in my head and body about twenty lice, little and great
Have not much to lose, and therefore will venture all
His satisfaction is nothing worth, it being easily got
I have itched mightily these 6 or 7 days
I know I have made myself an immortal enemy by it
Lady Castlemayne is now in a higher command over the King
Last day of their doubtfulness touching her being with child
Mighty fond in the stories she tells of her son Will
Nor was there any pretty woman that I did see, but my wife
Observing my eyes to be mightily employed in the playhouse
Proud, carping, insolent, and ironically-prophane stile
Quite according to the fashion--nothing to drink or eat
She finds that I am lousy
Unquiet which her ripping up of old faults will give me
Up, and with W. Hewer, my guard, to White Hall
Weeping to myself for grief, which she discerning, come to bed
With egg to keep off the glaring of the light