Farm workers

Up, my head full of business, and called upon also by Sir John Shaw, to whom I did give a civil answer about our prize goods, that all his dues as one of the Farmers of the Customes are paid, and showed him our Transire; with which he was satisfied, and parted, ordering his servants to see the weight of them. I to the office, and there found an order for my coming presently to the Duke of Albemarle, and what should it be, but to tell me, that, if my Lord Sandwich do not come to towne, he do resolve to go with the fleete to sea himself, the Dutch, as he thinks, being in the Downes, and so desired me to get a pleasure boat for to take him in to-morrow morning, and do many other things, and with a great liking of me, and my management especially, as that coxcombe my Lord Craven do tell me, and I perceive it, and I am sure take pains enough to deserve it.
Thence away and to the office at London, where I did some business about my money and private accounts, and there eat a bit of goose of Mr. Griffin’s, and so by water, it raining most miserably, to Greenwich, calling on several vessels in my passage. Being come there I hear another seizure hath been made of our goods by one Captain Fisher that hath been at Chatham by warrant of the Duke of Albemarle, and is come in my absence to Tooker’s and viewed them, demanding the key of the constable, and so sealed up the door. I to the house, but there being no officers nor constable could do nothing, but back to my office full of trouble about this, and there late about business, vexed to see myself fall into this trouble and concernment in a thing that I want instruction from my Lord Sandwich whether I should appear in it or no, and so home to bed, having spent two hours, I and my boy, at Mr. Glanvill’s removing of faggots to make room to remove our goods to, but when done I thought it not fit to use it.
The newes of the killing of the [King of] France is wholly untrue, and they say that of the Pope too.

out on the farm we see
the weight of the present

take pains to deserve
a bit of rain

green as the sea
having spent hours killing


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 9 October 1665.

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