Up, and to the office betimes, where all the morning. At noon home to dinner with my clerks, and after dinner comes Kate Joyce, who tells me she is putting off her house, which I am glad of, but it was pleasant that she come on purpose to me about getting a ticket paid, and in her way hither lost her ticket, so that she is at a great loss what to do. — There comes in then Mrs. Mercer, the mother, the first time she has been here since her daughter lived with us, to see my wife, and after a little talk I left them and to the office, and thence with Sir D. Gawden to Westminster Hall, thinking to have attended the Committee about the Victualling business, but they did not meet, but here we met Sir R. Brookes, who do mightily cry up my speech the other day, saying my fellow-officers are obliged to me, as indeed they are. Thence with Sir D. Gawden homewards, calling at Lincolne’s Inn Fields: but my Lady Jemimah was not within: and so to Newgate, where he stopped to give directions to the jaylor about a Knight, one Sir Thomas Halford brought in yesterday for killing one Colonel Temple, falling out at a taverne. So thence as far as Leadenhall, and there I ’light, and back by coach to Lincoln’s Inn Fields; but my Lady was not come in, and so I am at a great loss whether she and her brother Hinchingbroke and sister will dine with me to-morrow or no, which vexes me. So home; and there comes Mr. Moore to me, who tells me that he fears my Lord Sandwich will meet with very great difficulties to go through about the prizes, it being found that he did give orders for more than the King’s letter do justify; and then for the Act of Resumption, which he fears will go on, and is designed only to do him hurt, which troubles me much. He tells me he believes the Parliament will not be brought to do anything in matters of religion, but will adhere to the Bishops. So he gone, I up to supper, where I find W. Joyce and Harman come to see us, and there was also Mrs. Mercer and her two daughters, and here we were as merry as that fellow Joyce could make us with his mad talking, after the old wont, which tired me. But I was mightily pleased with his singing; for the rogue hath a very good eare, and a good voice. Here he stayed till he was almost drunk, and then away at about ten at night, and then all broke up, and I to bed.
it is pleasant getting lost
at home in the leaden light
of religion
that mad old singing
till almost drunk
Erasure poem derived from The Diary of Samuel Pepys, Tuesday 10 March 1668