ond sea, which the ill condition of my eyes, and my
neglect for a year or two, hath kept me behindhand in, and so as to
render it very difficult now, and troublesome to my mind to do it; but I
this day made a satisfactory entrance therein. Dined at home, and in the
afternoon by water to White Hall, calling by the way at Michell's, where
I have not been many a day till just the other day, and now I met her
mother there and knew her husband to be out of town. And here je did
baiser elle, but had not opportunity para hazer some with her as I would
have offered if je had had it. And thence had another meeting with
the Duke of York, at White Hall, on yesterday's work, and made a good
advance: and so, being called by my wife, we to the Park, Mary Batelier,
and a Dutch gentleman, a friend of hers, being with us. Thence to "The
World's End," a drinking-house by the Park; and there merry, and so home
late.

And thus ends all that I doubt I shall ever be able to do with my own
eyes in the keeping of my journal, I being not able to do it any longer,
having done now so long as to undo my eyes almost every time that I take
a pen in my hand; and, therefore, whatever comes of it, I must forbear:
and, therefore, resolve, from this time forward, to have it kept by my
people in long-hand, and must therefore be contented to set down no
more than is fit for them and all the world to know; or, if there be any
thing, which cannot be much, now my amours to Deb. are past, and my eyes
hindering me in almost all other pleasures, I must endeavour to keep
a margin in my book open, to add, here and there, a note in short-hand
with my own hand.

And so I betake myself to that course, which is almost as much as to see
myself go into my grave: for which, and all the discomforts that will
accompany my being blind, the good God prepare me!

May 31, 1669.

END OF THE DIARY.

PREFACE

[This moved, by the editor, to the end
where it seems to fit more comfortably.]

First issue of this edition June, 1896. Reprinted 1897.

In the present volume the Diary is completed, and we here take leave
of a writer who has done so much to interest and enlighten successive
generations of English readers, and who is now for the first time
presented to the world as he really drew his own portrait day by day.

No one who has followed the daily notes of Samuel Pepys from January,
1660, to May, 1669, but must feel sincere regret a