Chapter 3

31st (Lord's day). Lay long talking with pleasure, and so up and I to church, and there did hear the Doctor that is lately turned Divine, I have forgot his name, I met him a while since at Sir D. Gawden's at dinner, Dr. Waterhouse! He preaches in a devout manner of way, not elegant nor very persuasive, but seems to mean well, and that he would preach holily; and was mighty passionate against people that make a scoff of religion. And, the truth is, I did observe Mrs. Hollworthy smile often, and many others of the parish, who, I perceive, have known him, and were in mighty expectation of hearing him preach, but could not forbear smiling, and she particularly upon me, and I on her. So home to dinner: and before dinner to my Office, to set down my journal for this week, and then home to dinner; and after dinner to get my wife and boy, one after another, to read to me: and so spent the afternoon and the evening, and so after supper to bed. And thus endeth this month, with many different days of sadness and mirth, from differences between me and my wife, from her remembrance of my late unkindness to her with Willet, she not being able to forget it, but now and then hath her passionate remembrance of it as often as prompted to it by any occasion; but this night we are at present very kind. And so ends this month.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Dine with them, at my cozen Roger's mistress's 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 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 Mighty fond in the stories she tells of her son Will Observing my eyes to be mightily employed in the playhouse Proud, carping, insolent, and ironically-prophane stile 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