They that do write in authors’ praises, And freely give their friends their voices, Are not confined to what is true; That’s not to give, but pay a due: For praise, that’s due, does give no more To worth, than what it had before; But to commend, without desert, Requires a mastery of art, That sets a gloss on what’s amiss, And writes what should be, not what is. Samuel Pepys, whose literary work is in Diary form, is no doubt one of the world’s greatest egoists. But the spontaneity and naturalness of the account of his daily doings, as told by himself, have a charm all their own and a unique and inimitable humor. _EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY_ Rose early, and put six spoons and a porringer of silver in my pocket to give away to-day. To dinner at Sir William Batten’s; and then, after a walk in the fine gardens, we went to Mrs. Browne’s, where Sir W. Pen and I were godfathers, and Mrs. Jordan and Shipman godmothers to her boy. And there, before and after the christening, we were with the woman above in her chamber; but whether we carried ourselves well or ill, I know not; but I was directed by young Mrs. Batten. One passage of a lady that ate wafers with her dog did a little displease me. I did give the midwife 10_s._ and the nurse 5_s._ and the maid of the house 2_s._ But for as much I expected to give the name to the child, but did not (it being called John), I forbore then to give my plate. _December 26th, 1662._--Up, my wife to the making of Christmas pies all day, doeing now pretty well again, and I abroad to several places about some businesses, among others bought a bake-pan in Newgate Market, and sent it home, it cost me 16_s._ So to Dr Williams, but he is out of town, then to the Wardrobe. Hither come Mr Battersby; and we falling into discourse of a new book of drollery in use, called Hudibras, I would needs go find it out, and met with it at the Temple: cost me 2_s._ 6_d._ But when I come to read it, it is so silly an abuse of the Presbyter Knight going to the warrs, that I am ashamed of it; and by and by meeting at Mr Townsend’s at dinner, I sold it to him for 18_d._ ... _February 6th._-- ... Thence to Lincoln’s Inn Fields; and it being too soon to go to dinner, I walked up and down, and looked upon the outside of the new theatre now a-building in Covent Garden, which will be very fine. And so to a bookseller’s in the Strand, and there bought Hudibras again, it being certainly some ill-humour to be so against that which all the world cries up to be the example of wit; for which I am resolved once more to read him, and see whether I can find it or no....