My brother Tom came to me, and he and I to Mr. Turner the Draper’s, and paid 15l. to him for cloth owing to him by my father for his mourning for my uncle, and so to his house, and there invited all the Honiwood’s to dinner on Monday next. So to the Exchange, and there all the news is of the French and Dutch joyning against us; but I do not think it yet true. So home to dinner, and in the afternoon to the office, and so to Sir W. Batten’s, where in discourse I heard the custom of the election of the Dukes of Genoa, who for two years are every day attended in the greatest state; and four or five hundred men always waiting upon him as a king; and when the two years are out, and another is chose, a messenger is, sent to him, who stands at the bottom of the stairs, and he at the top, and says, “Va. Illustrissima Serenita sta finita, et puede andar en casa.” — “Your serenity is now ended; and now you may be going home,” and so claps on his hat. And the old Duke (having by custom sent his goods home before), walks away, it may be but with one man at his heels; and the new one brought immediately in his room, in the greatest state in the world. Another account was told us, how in the Dukedom of Ragusa, in the Adriatique (a State that is little, but more ancient, they say, than Venice, and is called the mother of Venice, and the Turks lie round about it), that they change all the officers of their guard, for fear of conspiracy, every twenty-four hours, so that nobody knows who shall be captain of the guard to-night; but two men come to a man, and lay hold of him as a prisoner, and carry him to the place; and there he hath the keys of the garrison given him, and he presently issues his orders for that night’s watch: and so always from night to night. Sir Wm. Rider told the first of his own knowledge; and both he and Sir W. Batten confirm the last.
Hence home and to read, and so to bed, but very late again.

In mourning
for Monday:
the news I do
not think true
the election
every year
another mess at
the bottom and
at the top
serenity ended
by one man
and how the state
is the mother
of fear
so nobody knows
who shall be
a prisoner
or a night
rider now.

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 11 January 1661/62.

At the office all the morning private with Sir G. Carteret (who I expected something from about yesterday’s business, but he said nothing), Sir W. Batten, and Sir W. Pen, about drawing up an answer to several demands of my Lord Treasurer, and late at it till 2 o’clock. Then to dinner, and my wife to Sir W. Pen’s, and so to the office again and sat till late; and so home, where I found Mr. Armiger below talking with my wife, but being offended with him for his leaving of my brother Tom I shewed him no countenance, but did take notice of it to him plainly, and I perceive he was troubled at it, but I am glad I told him of it. Then (when he was gone) up to write several letters by the post, and so to set my papers and things in order, and to bed. This morning we agreed upon some things to answer to the Duke about the practice of striking of the flags, which will now put me upon finishing my resolution of writing something upon the subject.

I expect no pen
to offend, no notice
to trouble.

Then when to write?

Let the paper
agree upon
the writing.

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 9 January 1661/62.

I rose and went to Westminster Hall, and there walked up and down upon several businesses, and among others I met with Sir W. Pen, who told me that he had this morning heard Sir G. Carteret extremely angry against my man Will that he is every other day with the Commissioners of Parliament at Westminster, and that his uncle was a rogue, and that he did tell his uncle every thing that passes at the office, and Sir William, though he loves the lad, did advise me to part with him, which did with this surprise mightily trouble me, though I was already angry with him, and so to the Wardrobe by water, and all the way did examine Will about the business, but did not tell him upon what score, but I find that the poor lad do suspect something. To dinner with my Lady, and after dinner talked long with her, and so home, and to Sir W. Batten’s, and sat and talked with him, and so home troubled in mind, and so up to my study and read the two treaties before Mr. Selden’s “Mare Clausum,” and so to bed. This night come about 100l. from Brampton by carrier to me, in holsters from my father, which made me laugh.

I walk up
and down and miss
everything that passes:
and water
and her troubled mind.
The treaties
which made me laugh.

Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 8 January 1661/62.