WHAT’S IN A NAME? (Episode

Samantha and James Peabody stood up with the rest of the audience and loudly applauded the cast members who had just finished performing Shakespeare’s play, ‘The Taming of the Shrew’.

“It was a wonderful play,” said Samantha as the applause slowly died away, “but I’m surprised they were allowed to perform it.”

“Surprised? Why?” asked James as he turned and picked up the program from his seat.

Samantha shrugged. “It’s just that it’s so misogynistic, don’t you think? I mean all that female submissiveness stuff. I just thought the gender politics of today would have had the activists out in force complaining about it.”

James laughed softly. “It was just a bit of fun and after all, it was written by Shakespeare.”

“He was married to Anne Hathaway, wasn’t he,” said Samantha. “I wonder what she thought of the play.”

“I thought you said it was a wonderful play,” said James.

“I did, and it was, but I was just thinking about the underlying theme,” replied Samantha as they walked out of the theatre and made their way to their car. “A good play should make you think about things like that.”

“I don’t think you’ve got much to think about,” said James. “If anybody is the epitome of assertiveness it would have to be you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” asked Samantha coyly.

James laughed. “Taken in small doses it’s obviously a good thing.” They walked on for a moment and then James said, “Do you know there is a theory that Shakespeare didn’t actually write his plays?”

“What do you mean? Of course he wrote his plays!” exclaimed Samantha, who was clearly annoyed by this suggestion. “I’m getting a little tired of all these conspiracy theories.”

“This theory was actually postulated over hundred and fifty years ago,” replied James calmly. “According to the theory, Sir Francis Bacon wrote some, if not all of the plays attributed to Shakespeare.”

“If that’s the case, then why didn’t this Bacon fellow put his name on the bottom of each play? Why attribute them to Shakespeare?” grumbled Samantha. “I think it’s a ridiculous theory.”

“Apparently Sir Francis Bacon was a very important statesman,” explained James, “who had ambitions of holding high office in government. He even had dreams of becoming the prime minister and didn’t want people opposed to him to criticise him as merely being a lowly playwright, and so he used Shakespeare as his front-man.”

“Who dreams up these crazy conspiracy theories?” muttered Samantha.

“People who have nothing else to do,” replied James. “They have even combed through all of Shakespeare’s plays and have apparently

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by John Kriesfeld

found hidden codes and ciphers that, according to them, point to Bacon.”

Samantha frowned in annoyance. “Small people always want to cut down the tall poppies. Perhaps you should get your time machine out of mothballs and we can go back in time and find out the truth.”

James shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Each time we go back, we somehow interfere with history, or should I say, you somehow interfere with history.”

“Me!” exclaimed Samantha indignantly. “I seem to recall you were there as well, you know. Don’t go blaming me for all the glitches of the past. Anyway, it always turned out okay despite you being such a fuddy-duddy.” She sidled closer to James and smiled sweetly at him. “One more little trip won’t hurt and all we need to do is find Shakespeare and talk to him about his plays. Then we’ll know for certain who wrote his plays. Surely that couldn’t cause any problems.”

Sensing that James was starting to waver slightly, Samantha pressed on. “And I’ll be on my best behaviour. I won’t interfere with anything or anybody. I won’t even talk to anybody. If any talking needs to be done then I’ll let you do it.”

“Okay,” sighed James, “Let me give the time machine a good service while I think about it. I know I won’t get a moment’s peace otherwise.”

Two days later, after Samantha came home from her weekly karate class, James told her that the time machine was once again in perfect working order and if she still wanted to travel back to talk to Shakespeare, then it could be done.

“Wonderful,” cried Samantha excitedly. “When can we go?”

“Tomorrow morning,” replied James. “That will give us time to visit the Globe Theatre where Shakespeare holds his plays, and hopefully give us an opportunity to talk to him.”

“We might even see one of his plays being performed,” continued Samantha hopefully.

“There is a slight problem with that,” replied James.

“I said I would be on my best behaviour,” said Samantha quickly. “I promise I won’t cause any trouble. Imagine seeing one of Shakespeare’s plays being performed live at the Globe Theatre during his time.”

“You’re not the slight problem, Samantha. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever been a slight problem. No, unfortunately we won’t have any money to get into the theatre, and the last thing we want to do is get arrested for trying to slip in without paying,” explained James.

“Yes, there is that,” agreed Samantha. “Perhaps we could earn some money while we’re there.”

“Doing what, magic tricks with my cigarette lighter? And what happened to the concept of remaining inconspicuous in the background?”

“You’re quite right,” admitted Samantha ruefully, “but it just seems too good an opportunity to waste.” She suddenly brightened. “You never know, perhaps fate will step in once again. She always seems to be waiting just around the corner each time we go on one of these little jaunts.”

The following morning, Samantha seated herself comfortably in the time machine while James fussed with the control panel. They had both dressed themselves in clothing purchased from the local costume shop and the smiling shop assistant had assured them that the clothing was an authentic match for what was being worn in Elizabethan England around the turn of the 17th century.

“Now remember,” said James, “our English accent and our use of English words will sound strange to any folk we happen to talk to, so we need to include as many ‘doths’, ‘harks’, ‘perchances’, ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ as possible so that we don’t raise too many suspicions.”

“I harken to thee oh great husband, and shall surely be totally inconspicuous,” replied Samantha demurely.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” muttered James as he activated the time machine button. There was a brief moment of disorientation and then a soft bump as the time machine landed. James cautiously opened the hatch and peered around anxiously. He had camouflaged the machine as a large bush and was pleased that, as planned, he had landed in a wide park next to the Thames River. Several people were walking along the distant road next to the river and James quickly climbed out through the hatch.

“So far so good,” said James as he took Samantha’s gloved hand and helped her to alight.

“What’s that awful smell?” asked Samantha as she peered around her, sniffing the air.

“That, my dear, is the delightful smell of Elizabethan England. There is only limited sewerage for the very rich, there is no rubbish collection, horse manure covers the streets, dead cats and dogs simply lie where they died and rats and mice abound,” explained James. “Welcome to the good old days.”

Samantha wrinkled her nose in disgust. “How can people live like this?”

“It’s what they are used to. You can’t judge them by our standards. Now I think the Globe Theatre is in this direction,” said James as he took Samantha’s arm and began walking away from the river. “Let’s go and meet William.”

Will Samantha and James manage to fit into Elizabethan society without arousing any suspicions? Will they get to meet William Shakespeare and will they find out if Sir Francis Bacon is the real playwright? Will they manage to do all of that without causing any ripples in time? Based on past experience, it’s doubtful, isn’t it?