Tribute

This morning Mr. Barlow comes to me, and he and I went forth to a scrivener in Fenchurch Street, whom we found sick of the gout in bed, and signed and sealed our agreement before him.
He urged to have these words (in consideration whereof) to be interlined, which I granted, though against my will.
Met this morning at the office, and afterwards Mr. Barlow by appointment came and dined with me, and both of us very pleasant and pleased. After dinner to my Lord, who took me to Secretary Nicholas, and there before him and Secretary Morris, my Lord and I upon our knees together took our oaths of Allegiance and Supremacy; and the Oath of the Privy Seal, of which I was much glad, though I am not likely to get anything by it at present; but I do desire it, for fear of a turn- out of our office. That done and my Lord gone from me, I went with Mr. Cooling and his brother, and Sam Hartlibb, little Jennings and some others to the King’s Head Tavern at Charing Cross, where after drinking I took boat and so home, where we supped merrily among ourselves (our little boy proving a droll) and so after prayers to bed.
This day my Lord had heard that Mr. Barnwell was dead, but it is not so yet, though he be very ill.
I was troubled all this day with Mr. Cooke, being willing to do him good, but my mind is so taken up with my own business that I cannot.

We dine on our knees
and drink to my dead cook,
my mind taken up
with my own sin.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 23 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

The Inward Park

Lord’s day. All this last night it had rained hard. My brother Tom came this morning the first time to see me, and I paid him all that I owe my father to this day. Afterwards I went out and looked into several churches, and so to my uncle Fenner’s, whither my wife was got before me, and we, my father and mother, and all the Joyces, and my aunt Bell, whom I had not seen many a year before. After dinner to White Hall (my wife to church with K. Joyce), where I find my Lord at home, and walked in the garden with him, he showing me all the respect that can be. I left him and went to walk in the Park, where great endeavouring to get into the inward Park, but could not get in; one man was basted by the keeper, for carrying some people over on his back through the water.
Afterwards to my Lord’s, where I staid and drank with Mr. Sheply, having first sent to get a pair of oars. It was the first time that ever I went by water on the Lord’s day. Home, and at night had a chapter read; and I read prayers out of the Common Prayer Book, the first time that ever I read prayers in this house. So to bed.

I look for joy and find a garden,
walk in the park endeavoring
to get into the inward park,
carry people over
through the common bed.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 22 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

Visitant

This morning Mr. Barlow had appointed for me to bring him what form I would have the agreement between him and me to pass, which I did to his lodgings at the Golden Eagle in the new street between Fetter Lane and Shoe Lane, where he liked it very well, and I from him went to get Mr. Spong to engross it in duplicates.
To my Lord and spoke to him about the business of the Privy Seal for me to be sworn, though I got nothing by it, but to do Mr. Moore a kindness, which he did give me a good answer to. Went to the Six Clerks’ office to Mr. Spong for the writings, and dined with him at a club at the next door, where we had three voices to sing catches. So to my house to write letters and so to Whitehall about business of my Lord’s concerning his creation, and so home and to bed.

A golden eagle in the street
between Fetter Lane and Shoe Lane.
Six clerks sing to it about Creation.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 21 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

Venison

We sat at the office this morning, Sir W. Batten and Mr. Pett being upon a survey to Chatham. This morning I sent my wife to my father’s and he is to give me 5l. worth of pewter. After we rose at the office, I went to my father’s, where my Uncle Fenner and all his crew and Captain Holland and his wife and my wife were at dinner at a venison pasty of the venison that I did give my mother the other night.
I did this time show so much coldness to W. Joyce that I believe all the table took notice of it.
After that to Westminster about my Lord’s business and so home, my Lord having not been well these two or three days, and I hear that Mr. Barnwell at Hinchinbroke is fallen sick again. Home and to bed.

We chat of fat venison,
of that mother the other table took.
We sin and so fall sick.

~or~

We sat at the office this morning, Sir W. Batten and Mr. Pett being upon a survey to Chatham. This morning I sent my wife to my father’s and he is to give me 5l. worth of pewter. After we rose at the office, I went to my father’s, where my Uncle Fenner and all his crew and Captain Holland and his wife and my wife were at dinner at a venison pasty of the venison that I did give my mother the other night.
I did this time show so much coldness to W. Joyce that I believe all the table took notice of it.
After that to Westminster about my Lord’s business and so home, my Lord having not been well these two or three days, and I hear that Mr. Barnwell at Hinchinbroke is fallen sick again. Home and to bed.

I sent my wife a pewter rose,
a venison pasty—
so much cold joy we fall sick.


Erasure poems derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Friday 20 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

In/formal

I did lie late a-bed. I and my wife by water, landed her at Whitefriars with her boy with an iron of our new range which is already broke and my wife will have changed, and many other things she has to buy with the help of my father to-day.
I to my Lord and found him in bed. This day I received my commission to swear people the oath of allegiance and supremacy delivered me by my Lord.
After talk with my Lord I went to Westminster Hall, where I took Mr. Michell and his wife, and Mrs. Murford we sent for afterwards, to the Dog Tavern, where I did give them a dish of anchovies and olives and paid for all, and did talk of our old discourse when we did use to talk of the King, in the time of the Rump, privately; after that to the Admiralty Office, in White Hall, where I staid and writ my last observations for these four days last past.
Great talk of the difference between the Episcopal and Presbyterian Clergy, but I believe it will come to nothing. So home and to bed.

I talk with my dog
where I talk to the king:
privately.
Between home and bed.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Thursday 19 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

Surgery

This morning the carpenter made an end of my door out of my chamber upon the leads. This morning we met at the office: I dined at my house in Seething Lane, and after that, going about 4 o’clock to Westminster, I met with Mr. Carter and Mr. Cooke coming to see me in a coach, and so I returned home.
I did also meet with Mr. Pierce, the surgeon, with a porter with him, with a barrel of Lemons, which my man Burr sends me from sea.
I took all these people home to my house and did give them some drink, and after them comes Mr. Sheply, and after a little stay we all went by water to Westminster as far as the New Exchange.
Thence to my Lord about business, and being in talk in comes one with half a buck from Hinchinbroke, and it smelling a little strong my Lord did give it me (though it was as good as any could be).
I did carry it to my mother, where I had not been a great while, and indeed had no great mind to go, because my father did lay upon me continually to do him a kindness at the Wardrobe, which I could not do because of my own business being so fresh with my Lord. But my father was not at home, and so I did leave the venison with her to dispose of as she pleased. After that home, where W. Hewer now was, and did lie this night with us, the first night.
My mind very quiet, only a little trouble I have for the great debts which I have still upon me to the Secretary, Mr. Kipps, and Mr. Spong for my patent.

This morning the carpenter
made an end of my door,
this morning the surgeon
with a barrel of lemons
went to the exchange
and broke me where
I had not been, so fresh
was the night within me.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Wednesday 18 July 1660. (This is, incidentally, my 200th erasure of Pepys.)

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

Time Traveller

This morning (as indeed all the mornings nowadays) much business at my Lord’s.
There came to my house before I went out Mr. Barlow, an old consumptive man, and fair conditioned, with whom I did discourse a great while, and after much talk I did grant him what he asked, viz., 50l. per annum, if my salary be not increased, and (100l. per annum, in case it be to 350l.), at which he was very well pleased to be paid as I received my money and not otherwise.
Going to my Lord’s I found my Lord had got a great cold and kept his bed, and so I brought him to my Lord’s bedside, and he and I did agree together to this purpose what I should allow him.
That done and the day proving fair I went home and got all my goods packed up and sent away, and my wife and I and Mrs. Hunt went by coach, overtaking the carts a-drinking in the Strand. Being come to my house and set in the goods, and at night sent my wife and Mrs. Hunt to buy something for supper; they bought a Quarter of Lamb, and so we ate it, but it was not half roasted.
Will, Mr. Blackburne’s nephew, is so obedient, that I am greatly glad of him. At night he and I and Mrs. Hunt home by water to Westminster.
I to my Lord, and after having done some business with him in his chamber in the Nursery, which has been now his chamber since he came from sea, I went on foot with a linkboy to my home, where I found my wife in bed and Jane washing the house, and Will the boy sleeping, and a great deal of sport I had before I could wake him. I to bed the first night that I ever lay here with my wife.

Now an old
consumptive man,
cold, kept to my bed
and overtaking
the sea in sleep,
I wake to
the first night
I lay with my wife.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 17 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

Rain House

This morning it proved very rainy weather so that I could not remove my goods to my house. I to my office and did business there, and so home, it being then sunshine, but by the time that I got to my house it began to rain again, so that I could not carry my goods by cart as I would have done. After that to my Lord’s and so home and to bed.

Is rain a good house, sunshine a good car?
I have one home.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Monday 16 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

Sic Transit

Lay long in bed to recover my rest. Going forth met with Mr. Sheply, and went and drank my morning draft with him at Wilkinson’s, and my brother Spicer. After that to Westminster Abbey, and in Henry the Seventh’s Chappell heard part of a sermon, the first that ever I heard there. To my Lord’s and dined all alone at the table with him.
After dinner he and I alone fell to discourse, and I find him plainly to be a sceptic in all things of religion, and to make no great matter of anything therein, but to be a perfect Stoic. In the afternoon to Henry the Seventh’s Chappell, where I heard service and a sermon there, and after that meeting W. Bowyer there, he and I to the Park, and walked a good while till night.
So to Harper’s and drank together, and Captain Stokes came to us and so I fell into discourse of buying paper at the first hand in my office, and the Captain promised me to buy it for me in France. After that to my Lord’s lodgings, where I wrote some business and so home. My wife at home all the day, she having no clothes out, all being packed up yesterday. For this month I have wholly neglected anything of news, and so have beyond belief been ignorant how things go, but now by my patent my mind is in some quiet, which God keep. I was not at my father’s to-day, I being afraid to go for fear he should still solicit me to speak to my Lord for a place in the Wardrobe, which I dare not do, because of my own business yet. My wife and I mightily pleased with our new house that we hope to have.
My patent has cost me a great deal of money, about 40l., which is the only thing at present which do trouble me much. In the afternoon to Henry the Seventh’s chapel, where I heard a sermon and spent (God forgive me) most of my time in looking upon Mrs. Butler. After that with W. Bowyer to walk in the Park. Afterwards to my Lord’s lodgings, and so home to bed, having not been at my father’s to-day.

All alone, the table—
a plain thing of perfect service—
fell into neglect.
Ignorant how things go,
I fear war, not time.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Sunday 15 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).

Patronage

Up early and advised with my wife for the putting of all our things in a readiness to be sent to our new house. To my Lord’s, where he was in bed very late. So with Major Tollhurst and others to Harper’s, and I sent for my barrel of pickled oysters and there ate them; while we were doing so, comes in Mr. Pagan Fisher; the poet, and promises me what he had long ago done, a book in praise of the King of France, with my armes, and a dedication to me very handsome. After him comes Mr. Sheply come from sea yesterday, whom I was glad to see that he may ease me of the trouble of my Lord’s business.
So to my Lord’s, where I staid doing his business and taking his commands. After that to Westminster Hall, where I paid all my debts in order to my going away from hence. Here I met with Mr. Eglin, who would needs take me to the Leg in King Street and gave me a dish of meat to dinner; and so I sent for Mons. L’Impertinent, where we sat long and were merry.
After that parted, and I took Mr. Butler with me into London by coach and shewed him my house at the Navy Office.
And did give order for the laying in coals. So into Fenchurch Street, and did give him a glass of wine at Rawlinson’s, and was trimmed in the street. So to my Lord’s late writing letters, and so home, where I found my wife had packed up all her goods in the house fit for a removal. So to bed.

A pickled poet promises me
a book in praise of a handsome dish of meat.
I give him raw letters and a good bed.


Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Saturday 14 July 1660.

Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).