(Lord’s day). Up betimes, and fell to reading my Latin grammar, which I perceive I have great need of, having lately found it by my calling Will to the reading of a chapter in Latin, and I am resolved to go through it.
After being trimmed, I by water to White Hall, and so over the Park, it raining hard, to Mr. Coventry’s chamber, where I spent two hours with him about business of the Navy, and how by his absence things are like to go with us, and with good content from my being with him he carried me by coach and set me down at Whitehall, and thence to right home by water.
He shewed me a list, which he hath prepared for the Parliament’s view, if the business of his selling of offices should be brought to further hearing, wherein he reckons up, as I remember, 236 offices of ships which have been disposed of without his taking one farthing. This, of his own accord, he opened his cabinet on purpose to shew me, meaning, I suppose, that I should discourse abroad of it, and vindicate him therein, which I shall with all my power do.
At home, being wet, shifted my band and things, and then to dinner, and after dinner went up and tried a little upon my tryangle, which I understand fully, and with a little use I believe could bring myself to do something.
So to church, and slept all the sermon, the Scot, to whose voice I am not to be reconciled, preaching.
Thence with Sir J. Minnes (who poor man had forgot that he carried me the other day to the painter’s to see some pictures which he has since bought and are brought home) to his lodgings to see some base things he calls them of great masters of painting. So I said nothing that he had shown me them already, but commended them, and I think they are indeed good enough.
Thence to see Sir W. Pen, who continues ill of the gout still. Here we staid a good while, and then I to my office, and read my vows seriously and with content, and so home to supper, to prayers, and to bed.
a grammar of rain
is like the open road
a full thing whose voice
I am nothing to
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 21 June 1663.