Jennifer Bassett

William Shakespeare

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  • Жанька Тохметоваhas quoted8 years ago
    1
    Toby remembers

    My name is Toby. I’m an old man, eighty-three this spring. My house is right in the middle of Stratford-upon-Avon, and I can watch the street market from my window. But I live very quietly now. I’m just an old man, sitting in a chair.
    I once knew the greatest man in England. For thirty years I was his friend. I worked with him in the theatre, through the good times and the bad times. He was a good friend to me. He was also the best playwright, the best poet, that ever lived in England. Will Shakespeare was his name.
    I saw all his plays in the theatre. People loved them. They shouted, laughed and cried, ate oranges, and called for more. All kinds of people. Kings, Queens, Princes, great lords and ladies, poor people, the boys who held the horses … everyone. Will Shakespeare could please them all.

    He put me in a play once. Well, he used my name — Toby. Twelfth Night was the play, I remember. Sir Toby Belch. He was a big fat man, who liked drinking too much and having a good time. Queen Elizabeth the First watched that play — on Twelfth Night, the 6th of January, 1601. She liked it, too.
    Will’s dead now, of course. He’s been dead more than thirty years, and no one sees his plays now. The Puritans have closed all the theatres. There’s no singing, no dancing, no plays. It wasn’t like that in my young days. We had a good time in London, Will and I …
    I’ve no teeth now, and my hair has all fallen out, but I can
  • Жанька Тохметоваhas quoted8 years ago
    2
    Stratford-upon-Avon

    It was a sunny day in October 1579 when I first met Will, just outside Stratford, near a big field of apple trees. I saw a boy up in one of the trees. He had red hair and looked about two years older than me.
    ‘What are you doing up there?’ I called.
    ‘Just getting a few apples,’ he said, smiling.
    ‘Those are Farmer Nash’s apples,’ I said, ‘and he’ll send his dogs after you if he sees you.’
    ‘Mr Nash has gone to market,’ the boy said. ‘Come on! They’re good apples.’
    The next minute I was up the tree with him. But Will was wrong. Farmer Nash wasn’t at the market, and a few minutes later we saw his angry red face above the wall on the far side of the field.
    Will and I ran like the wind and only stopped when we reached the river. We sat down to eat our apples.
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