It is a day much like any other in the past two years, meaning the Streets and the Booksellers are crawling with rumors and news, as an filthy bed does Lice, to wit:

That Parliament intents to assess the Pewter of every household in London, Westminster, and the Suburbs, and lay Excise taxes thereon. This is Not True; and Parliament as ordered that the Authors of these malignant rumors be discovered, apprehended, and brought before the House, there to receive their just Punishment.

There is a great quantity of Arms, Ordnance, and Ammunition, in Bristol, for conveyance to Wales, for the use of the Marquis of Hertford, recently impeached for High Treason, against the Parliament. This is a True. The Mayor of Bristol, &c have been ordered to Discover the munitions, and not allow them to be transported to Wales. They will meet with small Success in this regard; the estimable Paige having already seized it, and sequestered in my Warehouse; from which I will convey to Col Hampden in Worcester.

The Earl of Warwick, admiral of the Fleet has been ordered to return from the Sea, during the looming Winter Season; his replacement being Capt. Batten; I must needs secure an Appointment with Warwick, regarding my Caribbean venture; he will hopefully offer a aympathetic Ear, and be an Ally against Halpenny and the M.A.

I went for a Stroll earlier, and observed a Newsbook, accused of Falsehood and Treachery, being burned at a Stake in the Palace Yard; the Accusations were True, it being an Aggregation of blatant Fabrications regarding the recent Fight at Powick; to wit, the entire force of Essex routed, and he a Prisoner, and begging for Mercy and offering to lead his Force against London, and the Mass of his Soldierly submitting Joyfully to the Superstitions of Laudianism. It was crafted as a letter from Falkland to Cumberland and for all that poorly and clumsily Written. I saved a copy for Firth, by way of showing what estimable Service his work is to the Truth, and God, and England.

Last, some chatter about a Scotsman named Alexander, or Hendersham, or perhaps an Alexander at the Behest of a Hendersham, to apply for a place in the Artillery of Parliament and once this position Secured, blow up the Magazine. He was Discovered after becoming Drunk and boasting of his Mission in a Tavern. I fear this is a Precursor of my Entertaining those Noble Sons of Scotland in my House within the Fortnight, or whenever they Arrive; I must speak to Mrs Beale on the best Means of scrubbing Vomited Thistles, and Oats, and Offal, from the floors, and determine Means to protect the Cats, including but not limited to Clubs and Swords. Should they Torment my Cats I will of my own Accord Provoke a war with those Savages.