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Acknowledgments
Much virtue in if
As You Like It (5.4.101)
I began work on this book long before any of us knew of Covid-19. As I write these words, the theaters in my own country remain closed, in an eerie echo of Shakespeare’s working life. The vast majority of people who work in the arts have had their creative lives disrupted at best, completely destroyed at worst. And those of us who took for granted a ready stream of live performances are thirsty for culture in ways we could not have imagined a year ago. Knowing that Shakespeare wrote his remarkable plays during similar times has, however, been strangely comforting, above and beyond the enduring comfort offered by his words. I, like millions of others, am now even more grateful for his legacy.
More prosaically, thank you to Richard Bradford who asked me to write a life of Shakespeare, and who has been wise and supportive throughout. It’s been an interesting ride, but one I would not have wanted to miss. Thank you also to the anonymous readers whose comments have made this, I hope, a better book.
I am grateful to Thomas Evans, who helped get the first draft into some sort of order, and to Louise Spencely who has been a patient, assiduous, and perceptive copyeditor. Any and all remaining errors are my own.
My friends and family have, as ever, kept me (relatively) sane. It is, however, Becca, Elise, and Hugh who have done the heavy lifting, and with grace. Most importantly, they learned quickly not to ask whether the world really needed another biography of Shakespeare. Thank you.
Last but most definitely not least, I would like to dedicate this book to every one of my students over the years. I have learned so much from all of you. I am particularly lucky to have worked with adult students at the Department for Continuing Education in Oxford. Your questions about, and insights into, Shakespeare’s work inform every page that follows.
It is invidious to single out one former student, but I would like to dedicate this book to my dear friend Karen Elliott, a woman who knows that there may be days when one has to milk one’s ewes (The Winter’s Tale 4.4.455), but that there is still plenty of time to “queen it” (4.4.454).
All references to Shakespeare’s plays are taken from the Arden Third Series, unless stated otherwise.
Prologue
The impossibility of writing Shakespeare’s biography has not prevented a great many people (including yours truly) from trying.
(Richard Dutton 2010, p. 122)
Before conjuring up an April 1564 christening in Holy Trinity Parish Church, Stratford-upon-Avon, the traditional starting point for a biography, a few words about my own ambivalence about writing Shakespeare’s life. By all means, move straight to the baptismal register in Chapter One, or if it is the plays, and only the plays, that interest you, then head to Chapter Two when William Shakespeare begins his career as a dramatist.1 But, if the biographical project itself interests you – and it fascinates me almost but not quite as much as the plays themselves – then stay with this Prologue in which, inspired and provoked by Dutton’s wry comment, I explore what happens when we, when I, attempt the impossible.
Putting
