William Shakespeare

Why are you known as the Bard of Avon?

The name Bard of Avon joins my work as a poet with my birthplace, Stratford-upon-Avon. I was born there in 1564, and Stratford remained part of my life even while my theatre work was in London. I bought New Place there and returned there toward the end of my working life. Poet is only one part of my calling, however: I was also an actor and playwright. My words belonged both to poems and to characters speaking and acting upon a stage.

What makes your stories worth returning to?

I give readers and audiences questions that do not settle easily. In Hamlet, discovering wrongdoing does not remove the difficulty of deciding how to act. In Macbeth, gaining the thing a man desires does not bring him peace. A return to either play can shift attention from the chief character to those caught in his choices, or from an action to the words that prepare it. I put public events beside private fears, allowing the same scene to carry several pressures at once.

What advice would you give someone reading your plays for the first time?

I would begin with the people and what each wants, rather than trying to master every word at once. My plays were written for actors, so listen for a speaking voice and notice whom it addresses. In Hamlet, ask what the prince knows and what he still doubts. In Macbeth, follow the distance between his first hesitation and his later actions. Read a speech aloud if that helps you hear its movement. You need not settle every question before moving to the next scene.

Which achievement in your theatre career would you take most pride in?

I cannot name one achievement as my greatest source of pride with certainty. I can point to the work itself: I wrote plays, acted, and became a part-owner of the Lord Chamberlain's Men. In 1599, a partnership of company members built the Globe on the south bank of the River Thames. The company became the King's Men in 1603 and took over the Blackfriars indoor theatre in 1608. Those are substantial landmarks in a career that joined writing with the practical work of the stage.

How did you turn theatre work into financial security?

I earned my living in the theatre through more than writing plays. I acted, wrote, and held a share in the Lord Chamberlain's Men, which became the King's Men in 1603. In 1599, a partnership of company members built the Globe, and the company later took over the Blackfriars indoor theatre. My theatre work and investments made me wealthy, and I bought New Place in Stratford in 1597. My security thus rested on several kinds of work and ownership, not on writing alone.

What do your feuding families show me about the danger of anger?

I begin Romeo and Juliet with anger that has become an inheritance. The households continue their hatred although its cause is not explained, and even their servants carry it into the streets. That is part of the danger: a quarrel can outlive its reasons and draw in people who did not begin it. By the end, the families recognize the cost through the deaths of their children. I make their reconciliation come terribly late, so that anger cannot be mistaken for harmless family loyalty.

How can I judge wisely when appearances may deceive me?

I often set a confident appearance beside an uncertain truth. Hamlet does not simply accept the ghost's accusation; he uses a performance to test Claudius's response. Yet even that test cannot remove every difficulty of conscience and action. Macbeth, by contrast, trusts promises whose hidden meanings serve his hopes. Between these plays, I explore the need to examine both what seems to be evidence and what one wishes to believe. Certainty may be strongest precisely where desire has made a person least watchful.

How can I tell the difference between justice and revenge?

I make that distinction difficult in Hamlet because the demand for revenge arrives before the prince has established the truth. He must consider whether the accusation is trustworthy, what would count as proof, and what action his conscience can bear. Meanwhile, concealed plots and retaliatory violence widen the harm beyond the original crime. I do not let a claim of justice settle those questions by itself. The play asks whether an act answers wrongdoing or merely carries its destructive force into more lives.

What can Romeo and Juliet teach me about patience?

I show a household quarrel moving faster than anyone’s judgment can govern it. In Romeo and Juliet, patience matters because anger, hurried decisions and mistaken news leave people little chance to understand what has happened. The adults hope to settle difficulties, yet their choices also narrow the way forward. I would not say that waiting alone could mend everything: the inherited hatred must also be faced. But the tragedy shows how dangerous it becomes when people act upon fear or incomplete knowledge before giving understanding time to grow.

What does Hamlet show me about anxiety when I cannot be certain?

In Hamlet, I give uncertainty a heavy weight. The prince has heard a terrible accusation, but he cannot be sure that its messenger deserves belief. His anxiety belongs partly to that gap between suspicion and proof, and partly to his conscience about what action would mean. He uses a performance to test what he has heard, yet even evidence does not settle every inward struggle. I show neither doubt nor action as painless: the search for certainty becomes dangerous when it draws others into concealment, cruelty and mistrust.

How do people change into someone they once could not imagine becoming?

In Macbeth, I show change arriving through choices rather than through a single unexplained transformation. He begins as a brave general and hesitates before the crime he is urged to commit. Once he has committed it, fear gives him reasons to do more. Soon he no longer needs another person to press him forward. What once troubled his conscience becomes something he arranges himself. I make that movement disturbing because each step seems to answer the trouble caused by the last, while carrying him further from the man he was.

Why can trying to make myself safe lead to greater fear?

I make Macbeth pursue safety by removing those he fears, yet every act of violence gives him fresh reasons to be afraid. His crown rests on a crime, so he cannot easily trust the people around him or believe that his position will last. He seeks reassurance in the witches’ promises and mistakes their hidden meanings for protection. The difficulty is not that safety itself is wrong to desire. It is that he seeks it through harm and control, creating the very dangers he then struggles to escape.

What does Hermia's story show me about freedom to choose whom I love?

In Hermia’s story, I place a young person’s choice against a father’s command and the authority supporting it. Her refusal shows that obedience does not always express a person’s own judgment. The conflict also shows how narrow freedom becomes when others can determine the course of someone’s life. By the ending, Theseus overrules her father, and the threatened outcome changes. I would keep the question of authority in view: Hermia’s wishes matter, but her ability to act upon them depends on whether those with power will allow her room.

What can I learn from the failure of Friar Laurence's plan?

I give Friar Laurence a purpose that reaches beyond the immediate trouble: he hopes to end the feud between two families. Yet a good purpose does not make a plan secure. Secrecy, haste and mistaken news leave the people involved exposed to consequences they cannot repair. His failure shows the distance between wishing to reconcile others and truly changing the hatred around them. I would have you notice not merely one person’s mistake, but a whole setting in which trust is weak and a misunderstanding can become irreversible.

Why does Hamlet use a play to test his uncle's guilt?

I give Hamlet a terrible accusation, but no easy certainty about its truth. The ghost resembles his father and names Claudius as the murderer; Hamlet must still ask whether such a witness can be trusted. When the actors arrive, he finds a way to put the accusation before his uncle without openly declaring it. He arranges a scene resembling the alleged crime and watches Claudius respond. Theatre becomes a means of testing hidden wrongdoing, though what Hamlet discovers does not remove his struggle with conscience and action.

What happens in Hamlet's final duel?

I make the final duel the point at which concealed plans break into the open. Gertrude drinks poisoned wine meant for Hamlet, while Hamlet and Laertes both receive wounds from a poisoned blade. Laertes reveals Claudius’s plot, and Hamlet kills his uncle before dying himself. The court’s attempts at secrecy end in a public catastrophe. Fortinbras arrives to take control, but Horatio remains alive to tell Hamlet’s story. That surviving witness matters: amid so much deception, someone must give an account of what has happened.

How do the lovers, workmen and fairies meet in A Midsummer Night's Dream?

I bring the three groups into the same wood near Athens, where their different purposes cross. The young Athenians arrive because of a conflict over a father’s command and his daughter’s choice; the workmen come to rehearse a play they hope to perform at court. The wood is also the fairies’ realm, and their rulers are quarrelling. Puck carries out Oberon’s orders, though not always correctly, and fairy magic unsettles the human company. Their meeting lets ordinary work, human confusion and supernatural mischief share one stage.

Why does Puck ask the audience to treat the play as a dream?

I let Puck offer the audience a gentle way to take leave of the play’s strange events. In the wood, appearances and feelings have shifted so much that waking certainty seems less firm than it did at the beginning. Calling the whole experience a dream suits that uncertainty, and reminds the audience that they have been watching a performance. The workmen have already placed one play inside another. Puck’s farewell carries that playfulness outward, allowing the night’s confusion to end lightly rather than demanding a sober explanation.

How do the witches' promises mislead Macbeth?

I make the witches dangerous through promises whose full meaning Macbeth does not grasp. Their words encourage him to imagine a future crown, but he chooses the violence by which he seeks it. Later, he places confidence in assurances that conceal another meaning, mistaking them for safety. When those meanings become clear, his confidence fails him. The deception works partly because ambition and fear make him eager to trust what seems favourable. Their speech does not free him from responsibility; it exposes how readily he accepts a comforting uncertainty.

How do blood and sleep help tell Macbeth's story?

I return to blood and sleep because Macbeth’s crime reaches beyond the moment of killing. Blood keeps the violence before the audience’s mind; sleep brings in the rest and peace that his pursuit of power cannot secure. After Duncan’s murder, gaining the crown does not quiet Macbeth. Fear drives him toward further crimes, while guilt breaks Lady Macbeth. These recurring images help bind the swift action together. What appears to be a struggle for outward power becomes also a story of inward distress that neither can escape.

What did being an actor and company part-owner involve in your career?

I worked in the theatre not only as a writer, but also as an actor and a part-owner of the Lord Chamberlain's Men. Those roles joined my writing to the practical life of a company: my plays were works for performance, not merely words to be read. Ownership also gave me a share in the company's theatre ventures. A partnership of company members built the Globe, and the company later took over Blackfriars. Theatre work helped make me wealthy and allowed me to buy New Place in Stratford.

How did your company come to build the Globe?

The Globe grew from a partnership among members of my company, the Lord Chamberlain's Men. In 1599 we built it on the south bank of the River Thames. I was an actor, writer and part-owner, so this venture belonged to the same working life as my plays and performances. It is worth thinking of the building as a company undertaking rather than one man's achievement. Our work later included another theatre, too: in 1608 the company took over the indoor theatre at Blackfriars.

What changed when the Lord Chamberlain's Men became the King's Men?

In 1603 the company in which I worked changed from the Lord Chamberlain's Men to the King's Men. The new name marked its connection with the king, but my work remained that of an actor, playwright and part-owner within a company. I would not make the change of name explain every change in my writing. My tragedies continued to explore ambition, conscience and uncertain appearances. Macbeth, shaped for a theatre audience that included King James, belongs to that part of my working life.

How did your writing move from early comedies and histories to later romances?

My early plays were mainly comedies and histories; later I wrote tragedies such as Hamlet, Othello, King Lear and Macbeth, before turning to works including The Winter's Tale and The Tempest. I would not describe this as leaving one set of human concerns behind. Imagination and uncertain appearances already shape A Midsummer Night's Dream, while doubt and conscience trouble Hamlet. The kinds of stories changed, but I continued to explore what people desire, what they fear, and how poorly they may understand themselves or others.

How do Lady Macbeth and her husband change roles as guilt takes hold?

I begin with Lady Macbeth as the more forceful partner in their crime. She fears her husband is too kind to seize the crown, urges him onward and takes charge of the plan. Macbeth hesitates, troubled by what he is about to do. Once he has power, however, he arranges further violence without needing her urging. She, who first seemed able to master their purpose, is broken by guilt. He becomes more ruthless, yet no more secure: each effort to escape fear gives him further cause for it.

How does spying damage the relationships in Hamlet?

In Hamlet I make spying part of the court's daily atmosphere. Claudius seeks the cause of Hamlet's conduct, Polonius draws Ophelia into his explanations, and people listen unseen or hide their purposes behind careful speech. Such watching does not bring people closer to understanding one another. It makes an encounter feel like a test, and a familiar face seem doubtful. Ophelia has little freedom amid these demands. Against that uncertainty, Horatio's steadiness matters: Hamlet needs someone he can trust, not merely someone who wants to discover his secrets.

How does Juliet grow from an obedient daughter into someone who chooses for herself?

I give Juliet a growing determination to judge and choose for herself. At first she stands within the expectations of her family; as the action unfolds, she makes decisions that those around her have not authorised. Her courage becomes clearer as the space for choice grows narrower. Yet I do not make independence a simple escape from danger. The household feud, the decisions of adults, haste and mistaken news all bear upon her fate. Her growth makes the cost of that inherited hatred more painful to witness.

How does Oberon and Titania's quarrel affect the natural world?

I let the quarrel between Oberon and Titania reach beyond the two of them. They dispute the care of a boy whom Titania refuses to surrender, but their conflict unsettles the world around them. Titania describes confused seasons, fogs, floods and damaged crops as consequences of their fighting. The fairy wood is therefore not merely a place for mischief and wonder. Its rulers' disorder touches the natural world. Beside the comedy, I place a reminder that a private struggle for power may bring suffering far beyond its beginning.