Tales of Sam and Bess, 1660-1700

Tales suggesting famed 17th century diarist/naval adminstrator Samuel Pepys and his lady had more going on than even his famed daily diary let us know...

Note: The best way to know Mr. Pepys is through his magnificent nine year daily Diary...Which is now available on-line on a day-to-day basis at pepysdiary courtesy of the wonderful Phil Gyford.

I would also recommend "The Unequaled Self", a new biography by Claire Tomlin...Just terrific and fills in the gaps the diary leaves...

"The Medway Spy Caper…Part I…"

"Professor Hooke, the London Gazette's readers want the scoop on the
Medway spy caper, what can you tell us?"

A leering Robert Hooke, Secretary…(Disregarded, scorned, abused, he would note)…of the Royal Society, seated at desk, leans back…

"Ah, the Medway spy ring, yes. A fascinating tale of intrigue,
infidelity, treason, and murder..."

"But how did it all start? What's the scoop, Mr. Hooke?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? Heh, heh…"

"London's reading public wants answers! And you, the man whom all
England says cracked the case, have them…!"

"I played my role. But is London, is all England ready for the
answers, my young friend? Can you handle the truth?"

"Properly censored by the government, sure…This is the London Gazette,
after all."

"Hmmn…Yes, well then, it all began with the arrival of three master
salesmen at Seething Lane, our Naval HQ. They had been walking for
miles...And miles...And miles..."

"La, la, la, la..."

"No! No, No, No, NO! Barker! Your voice suits your name,
girl!" Slap of paper on table...Sobbing Barker runs from room.

"Sam'l? Barker's doing her best. Now, if you'd let me do it. With
all my new trilling abilities..." Beaming. eager smile...

"The girl is hopeless, hopeless! What?...Ummn..."

"Mrs. Pepys? Someone...Ones at the door, mum."

Phew, Sam mops brow at salvation in Jane form.

"Oh, good... Sam'l...I've a surprise for you..."

"Yes?" Bess eyes the short, beetle-browed leader of the group…

"Uh, Ma'am...We represent..."

"You must be the three music masters recommended to me by Mr.
Greeting? The only men in England who could properly teach anyone to
sing my husband's latest work? If you succeed in teaching me..."
Beam... "Or our girl, Barker..." Frown... "…to do it, I will pay you
each five pounds."

"Lady, we ain't...Ow!" Blow from leader of the three on the head of
the stout speaker…

"Quiet. Lady for five pounds each, we'll have you belting a tune like
nobody's business."

"Bess? Who are these…Gentlemen?" Sam eyes the weary trio.

"Sam'l. These are three of England's greatest musical instructors…Mr.
Greeting recommended them to me."

"Them?"

"This is Professor …?"

"Howard, ma'am. And may I present my colleagues, the great Professor
Fine…"

Vague look from the third member of the group… Huh?

"…And my brother and colleague, Professor Curlique Howard." Aside…
"Bow, you moron…" Slap.

Dignified bow by the Professor…

"Recommended by Greeting, eh? About what I'd expect, actually…"

"Sure to teach me…Or, Barker…Your song…"

"I don't know…Say, what is that sound?"

Whizzing sound…Slap of pie into Sam's face…

Cough, gurgle…

"My…" Bess stares. "Who threw that pie?"

"Who threw that pie?" Sam wipes pie from face… "My wiggie!" grabs
periwig to examine.

"All right, broad physical comedy is fun…When done to Penn, Batten, or
Minnes…But when a man's wiggie is endangered… Who threw that pie?"

"Mr. Hooke, I've got to know…Who threw that pie?"

"Patience, young man… All will be revealed." Leer…

…..