Headless

Infinite of business that my heart and head and all were full.
Met with purser Washington, with whom and a lady, a friend of his, I dined at the Bell Tavern in King Street, but the rogue had no more manners than to invite me and to let me pay my club. All the afternoon with my Lord, going up and down the town; at seven at night he went home, and there the principal Officers of the Navy, among the rest myself was reckoned one. We had order to meet to-morrow, to draw up such an order of the Council as would put us into action before our patents were passed. At which my heart was glad.
At night supped with my Lord, he and I together, in the great dining-room alone by ourselves, the first time I ever did it in London. Home to bed, my maid pretty well again.

My head and I dined, but
the rogue had no manners
and went home, at which
my heart was glad—
he and I together, alone
by ourselves, the first time ever.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 2 July 1660.

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