In the morning, it being Lord’s day, Mr. Pierce came to me to enquire how things go. We drank our morning draft together and thence to White Hall, where Dr. Homes preached; but I staid not to hear, but walking in the court, I heard that Sir Arth. Haselrigge was newly gone into the City to Monk, and that Monk’s wife removed from White Hall last night. Home again, where at noon came according to my invitation my cos. Thos. Pepys and his partner and dined with me, but before dinner we went and took a walk round the park, it being a most pleasant day as ever I saw. After dinner we three went into London together, where I heard that Monk had been at Paul’s in the morning, and the people had shouted much at his coming out of the church. In the afternoon he was at a church in Broad-street, whereabout he do lodge. But not knowing how to see him we went and walked half a hour in Moorfields, which were full of people, it being so fine a day. Here I took leave of them, and so to Paul’s, where I met with Mr. Kirton’s apprentice (the crooked fellow) and walked up and down with him two hours, sometimes in the street looking for a tavern to drink in, but not finding any open, we durst not knock; other times in the churchyard, where one told me that he had seen the letter printed. Thence to Mr. Turner’s, where I found my wife, Mr. Edw. Pepys, and Roger and Mr. Armiger being there, to whom I gave as good an account of things as I could, and so to my father’s, where Charles Glascocke was overjoyed to see how things are now; who told me the boys had last night broke Barebone’s windows. Hence home, and being near home we missed our maid, and were at a great loss and went back a great way to find her, but when we could not see her we went homewards and found her there, got before us which we wondered at greatly. So to bed, where my wife and I had some high words upon my telling her that I would fling the dog which her brother gave her out of window if he pissed the house any more.
a shout coming out
of the church in the fields
full of hours
and old bones
we miss our way and wonder
at the dog
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 12 February 1659/60.