Plagiarist

I lay and slept long to-day. Office day. I took occasion to be angry with my wife before I rose about her putting up of half a crown of mine in a paper box, which she had forgot where she had lain it. But we were friends again as we are always. Then I rose to Jack Cole, who came to see me. Then to the office, so home to dinner, where I found Captain Murford, who did put 3l. into my hands for a friendship I had done him, but I would not take it, but bade him keep it till he has enough to buy my wife a necklace.
This afternoon people at work in my house to make a light in my yard into my cellar.
To White Hall, in my way met with Mr. Moore, who went back with me.
He tells me, among other things, that the Duke of York is now sorry for his lying with my Lord Chancellor’s daughter, who is now brought to bed of a boy.
From Whitehall to Mr. De Cretz, who I found about my Lord’s picture. From thence to Mr. Lilly’s, where, not finding Mr. Spong, I went to Mr. Greatorex, where I met him, and so to an alehouse, where I bought of him a drawing-pen; and he did show me the manner of the lamp-glasses, which carry the light a great way, good to read in bed by, and I intend to have one of them.
So to Mr. Lilly’s with Mr. Spong, where well received, there being a club to-night among his friends. Among the rest Esquire Ashmole, who I found was a very ingenious gentleman. With him we two sang afterward in Mr. Lilly’s study. That done, we all parted; and I home by coach, taking Mr. Booker with me, who did tell me a great many fooleries, which may be done by nativities, and blaming Mr. Lilly for writing to please his friends and to keep in with the times (as he did formerly to his own dishonour), and not according to the rules of art, by which he could not well err, as he had done.
I set him down at Lime-street end, and so home, where I found a box of Carpenter’s tools sent by my cozen, Thomas Pepys, which I had bespoke of him for to employ myself with sometimes.
To bed.

I slept in a paper box,
forgot where I put my hands.
People work to make a light
into my cellar.

I am sorry for lying
to my picture in the glass,
for writing to please friends
and not the rules of art.
I found carpenter’s tools,
which spoke to me.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 24 October 1660.

Leave a Reply