At the start of this week, Mr Calamy’s sermon in Whitehall Chapel was based on the Bible verse, “To whom much is given, of him much is required.” And now I’m wondering: had he written his sermon especially for me?
True, the King was present too, and mightily more has been given to him of late. But it would surely have been far too brazen to address such a lesson to royalty. Luckily for Calamy, the King was most occupied after the service with praising Captain Cooke, who had sung a beautiful hymn of his own composition for the King.
Me, on the other hand… My first thought upon hearing Calamy’s sermon was that, for me, the maxim should be reversed. I hadn’t stopped last week, even after a malady took hold of me halfway through. Surely much should be given to him who was muchly required?
As if in answer, though, soon after chapel I bumped into Betty Lane near Westminster Hall. She runs a drapery there, and we’ve crossed paths a few times when I’ve been in need of linen. We even went together to The Trumpet in King Street a couple of weeks back to… share a drink – etc…
I therefore feared she and I held a mutual liking for each other, and in that Sunday’s highness of spirit I asked if she cared to join me at my Lord’s for a bottle of wine.
She did indeed care.
Back at my Lord’s, we got rather merry. We were joined halfway through by Mr Fairbrother (that friend of my father’s who sponsored my Masters from Cambridge), and I began to fear she and he held a mutual liking for each other. But when I had her ear to myself for a moment, I asked if she might like to view my house on Axe Yard – even if it meant we were unlikely to be interrupted.
She did indeed like.
And so my Sunday was largely spent in the company of a pretty woman who… was not unfree to dally. I would have said that was reward enough.
As it happened, though, barely a day has gone by hence in which I didn’t receive a blessing of some kind. For example, on Monday my Lord announced he was to away for some business in the country, and thus would leave his sea commission to me in his absence. Yet more lira just for signing my name? I had to thank my father for teaching my hand to form the letters S P-e-p-y-s!
That I did on Tuesday, taking him for dinner at the Tower. He was accompanied there by Mr Fairbrother, the second time I had seen that gentleman this week. I took the opportunity to pay that good man back for his assistance in procuring my Masters.
That is absolutely what I gave him money for, truly. It had nothing to do with the time we spent together on Sunday…
My blessings continued Wednesday, when I went to Whitehall to begin my work for my Lord, only to learn that the King had taken him at 5 o'clock to enjoy breakfast aboard a gift from the Dutch: a royal pleasure boat!
Despite this being a new foreign fashion, I had no jealousy for my Lord: the King has been tiring everyone about him with these early risings since he returned. Instead, I took the benefit of a work-free afternoon drinking and gossiping with Mrs and Mr Michell and their family.
On Thursday, I escorted my Lord by coach to Mr Crews, from where he was travelling on to his business about the country. Along the way, without my bidding, he told me how pleased he was for me in my fortunes. Being Clerk of the Acts, he told me, it was not the salary that would make me rich but the opportunities afforded to me while there.
I resolved, then, to reject Mr Man’s offer of 1,000l to buy the job off me.
Since then, the week has been but a blur of pleasure. Dining with Masters of Music at Charing Cross; being treated to wine and anchovies at the Half Moon by my tailor Mr Pim; drinking with the most masterful actors from The Cockpit theatre at Drury Lane!
One of those actors, by the way, was Kynaston, a boy of 20 who acted the Duke’s sister but made the loveliest lady that ever I saw in my life. ‘Twas only the voice that put me off fancying ‘her’ greatly.
By the end of the week, then, little had been required of me, but I’d received a great much.
Then, as I sat in the Privy Seal office on Saturday, Elisabeth came to see me. I had given her 50s to buy a petticoat, and on the way she’d bumped into my father – who I hadn’t seen since our dinner together with Mr Fairbrother. There in town, Father told Elisabeth… about a finer cloth, with a rich lace, which he apparently encouraged her to buy instead.
That petticoat thus came to 100s – 5l whole! Still, I couldn’t blame my wife for this expense (especially after the less innocent dalliance I’d enjoyed earlier in the week…). So I gave her the extra without anger.
Perhaps I should work a little harder this coming week…
Have you ever felt that you received more than you deserved? How did you handle it?
I shall be delighted to hear from you! Please reply to this post so we can exchange our thoughts…
My purse
I am most lately 208l clear in my purse.
In return for the smiles you took from these words, please send them to a friend!
Your smiles will then be compounded twice: once for sharing joy with your friend, then again for my undying gratitude. {:-)
Have you ever felt that you received more than you deserved? How did you handle it?