That Shakespeare Life

In Shakespeare's plays, he uses the word "gauntlet" a total of 6 times. In one instance, the stage directions declare that a character "throws down his gauntlet." In Hamlet, stage directions again refer to a gauntlet by saying that attendants bring "foils and gauntlets" into the scene of Act V. But do you know what you should be seeing on stage in these moments? Do you know what object Shakespeare expected the characters to be carrying for these scenes? Gauntlet sounds like a military exercise or maybe a very difficult journey through several tough obstacles, and there's a variation of this word which means exactly that—but that kind of gauntlet is for another episode. Today, we're looking at the kind of gauntlet that was actually an article of clothing—a glove, to be precise. A highly decorated ornate glove that came all the way up to the wrist of the wearer and was designed to protect the hand against wounds. To find out more about what these gloves were made from, who made them, and exactly why a character would throw one down on the ground in Shakespeare's Henry VI, we are talking with Hannah Marples, clothing historian and author of the project "Experimental Archeology: testing the wearability of a pair of gloves worn by Henry Cary in a painting by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger, 1603" Hannah joins us today to help us explore the history of gauntlet gloves, and how they connect with Shakespeare and his plays.

Zounds! Your Bunched Back toad! In Shakespeare's plays we find a hoard of truly fabulous one liners, zingers, and impressive insults that frequent the lips of our favorite characters. When they were written in the 16th century, some of the words we find most hilarious today were actually bordering on a line between legal and illegal, and even sometimes blasphemous, which in a Protestant England wracked by religious tensions and wars, was often worse than merely illegal. Here today to take us back to turn of the 17th century England and explore some of the words that could land you in hot water, or express your anger, frustration, or dismay in the most colorful way imaginable this side of actual obscenities, is our guest and historical linguist, Nathalie Vienne-Guerrin.

In Romeo and Juliet, Juliet declares "Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek" Katharina in Taming of the SHrew talks about painting your face, and Timon of Athens makes a connection between painting and your face saying "wear them, betray with them: whore still; Paint till a horse may mire upon your face, A pox of wrinkles!" And of course, Hamlet has the most famous facial disguise quote when he says "God has given you one face but you make yourself another." All of these references underpin what we know about cosmetics and facial care in Shakespeare's England. Famously, Queen Elizabeth herself kept her face quite decadently forever striving after that porcelain skinned ideal that was a hallmark of the Elizabethan Era. But what did women use to take care of their faces in the Elizabethan era, and in a. Culture where people like Hamlet were suspicious of women who disguised their true form, how was makeup received? Was it something normal and every day, or were there instances when applying makeup, or perhaps even the wrong makeup, could get someone into trouble? To find out more and explore the intricate and complex world of makeup, cosmetics, and facial care for women of Shakespeare's lifetime, we're delighted to welcome historian and author of Beauty and Cosmetics, 1550–1950, Sarah Jane Downing to the show this week. She's here to take us behind the makeup counters of Tudor women and share with us what we might there.

Immigration, labor tensions, and social unrest were pressing realities in Shakespeare's England—and few events capture that strain more vividly than the 1517 uprising known as Evil May Day. In this week's episode, historian Shannon McSheffrey joins us to unpack the economic frustrations, guild restrictions, and growing immigrant communities that fueled this riot in Tudor London. From the role of the city's "liberties" to the political response of Henry VIII and the event's lasting legacy in chronicles and drama like Sir Thomas More, we explore how this moment of unrest shaped the world Shakespeare knew—and how its echoes can still be felt in the plays today.

For the 16th century, a vagrant was someone who operated outside of societal norms, someone who moved around without a fixed home, or produced a profit without the oversight of a noble patron. In a culture that highly prized both hierarchy and organization, someone who fell outside these categories was cast under severe scrutiny, seen as a potential threat, and faced harsh punishments specifically aimed at preventing vagrancy. During Shakespeare's lifetime, new laws were being passed to aggressively define and control the vagrant, casting a net that often saw players and playwrights like William Shakespeare caught right up in the chaos. To help us understand how those categories worked — and why they mattered — we're joined by Dr. David Hitchcock, Reader in Early Modern History at Canterbury Christ Church University. Dr. Hitchcock's research focuses on poverty, mobility, and the cultural meaning of vagrancy in early modern England. He's here today to help us explore why early modern England was so focused on vagrancy, what the laws were that tried to prevent it, and how these laws impacted theater, and Shakespeare specifically.

In Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part 1, Hotspur delivers a chilling threat against King Richard: "I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him To keep his anger still in motion." It's a line rooted in the politics of kingship and rebellion—but it also hinges on something strikingly practical. The idea of teaching a starling to speak wasn't poetic fancy. It was entirely possible. In fact, it was happening in Shakespeare's lifetime. This week, we're stepping beyond the metaphor to explore the real bird behind the threat. What was the behavior, temperament, and reputation of the starling in early modern England? Were they truly trained to mimic speech? Were they kept as pets—or even raised for the table alongside other fowl? Here to guide us into the world of the early modern starling is Lee Raye, author of Creatures of Story and Song: Tracing Britain's Lost Species. Lee's work traces the historical presence of wild animals and plants, and today, they help us uncover how fact and drama intersect in the history of one of the world's most fascinating birds.

In Shakespeare's Othello, the Second Senator in Act One warns of a Turkish fleet bearing down on Cyprus. Later in that same scene, the Duke of Venice remarks, "The Turk with a most mighty preparation makes for Cyprus. Othello, the fortitude of the place is best known to you." References to Cyprus appear again and again throughout the dialogue—calling attention to wars, naval battles, and the conflicts surrounding the island, including, as Iago puts it, the struggle between "grounds Christian and heathen." Shakespeare places Othello in Cyprus at a moment of extreme tension. In the play, the island has just faced an imminent invasion by the Ottoman Turks. The Venetian fleet is mobilized, generals are dispatched, and Cyprus is on high alert. It makes for an exciting story—but what's even more compelling is that the setting Shakespeare chose mirrors real history almost exactly. In 1570 and 1571, Cyprus—then a Venetian possession—was attacked by the Ottoman Empire. The final and most famous stronghold was a city called Famagusta, whose siege became infamous across Europe. For Shakespeare's audience, Cyprus under Turkish threat was not fictional—it was recent news. When Othello opens with fears of invasion, Shakespeare is tapping into a collective memory of terror and loss that was still emotionally raw. To help us explore how the play connects to the real history Shakespeare's audience would have recognized immediately, I'm delighted to welcome our guest today, Michael Walsh.

In Shakespeare's plays, we see 6 total references to tennis. Polonius mentions an argument over a tennis game in Hamlet. Henry V and Pericles talk about tennis courts and there's even a couple of references to "tennis balls" showing up in Shakespeare's other plays, talking about them being played with at the game of tennis, as well as being stuffed as part of the process of making a tennis ball. We can tell that Shakespeare and his contemporaries knew about the game of tennis, but where did it come from? How was it played? Do we know anything about these tennis courts they used? To find out more about the history of tennis from Shakespeare's lifetime, today we're talking with Laurence Grove. Laurence is a Professor of French and Text/Image Studies at the University of Glasgow, and was recently the guest expert for an article inside PBS's report into newly discovered images that reveal some interesting new findings about the 16th century history of tennis. Laurence joins us today to share these findings, as well as to explain what tennis would have been like for Shakespeare.

Shakespeare's only reference to Easter comes up in Romeo and Juliet Act III when Mercutio talks about buying a new doublet for Easter. Despite only a single reference to this holiday, for the people of 16-17th century England, Easter was a major event. Holidays in Shakespeare's lifetime largely followed the life of Jesus Christ, and the resurrection of Jesus that is celebrated on Easter Sunday was a high point of the year's festivities. Here today to share with us the customs, foods, and yes, the clothing like a new doublet, that would have been staples for the observance of the Easter Holidays in Shakespeare's lifetime, is our guest, and author of Reformation England 1480-1642, Peter Marshall.

In this episode of That Shakespeare Life, we explore the surprising presence of monkeys, apes, and baboons in early modern England and the role these animals played in the culture of Shakespeare's world. Shakespeare refers to primates dozens of times in his plays, and those references were not purely imaginative—exotic animals were arriving in England through global trade, kept as fashionable pets by elites, and even trained to perform tricks for public entertainment. By examining travel narratives, natural history books like Edward Topsell's The History of Four-Footed Beasts, and records of animal performances near the London theatres, we uncover how early modern audiences understood these creatures and why primates became such vivid symbols in Renaissance literature and stage culture.

What toys did children play with in Shakespeare's lifetime? In this episode, historian Dr. Julia Martins joins That Shakespeare Life to explore the games, dolls, rattles, hobby horses, and playground activities that shaped childhood in Tudor England—and how these playful details appear in Shakespeare's world.

Joined this week by historian Susan D. Amussen, we take a close look at the historical evidence that confirms William Shakespeare as a real working playwright and actor in early modern England. Drawing from Susan's book What's in a Name?, we explore the documentary records—from theater company memberships and tax records to property purchases—that trace Shakespeare's life from Stratford-upon-Avon to London's vibrant theatrical world. We also compare the surviving evidence for Shakespeare with what we know about other playwrights like Christopher Marlowe, and discuss how historians interpret the gaps in the historical record. Along the way, Susan explains what the archives reveal about Shakespeare's work with the Lord Chamberlain's Men (later the King's Men) and how these records help historians answer the enduring question: how do we know Shakespeare is Shakespeare?

In this episode, we explore what the "Ides" actually meant in ancient Rome and how March 15th transformed from an ordinary—sometimes even festive—date on the Roman calendar into one of history's most infamous days. Jörg Rüpke explains how Romans understood their calendar, what rituals or superstitions may (or may not) have surrounded the Ides, and how news of Caesar's assassination would have spread through the city. We also examine the differences between ancient historical sources and Shakespeare's dramatic choices, from Calpurnia's ominous warnings to the political and religious tensions surrounding tyrannicide. We then turn to Shakespeare's England, asking how Renaissance audiences would have interpreted Roman dates, costumes, and political symbolism on stage. Did Elizabethans already fear March 15th, or did Shakespeare himself help create that association? Along the way, we consider how the play reflects the delicate political climate of Elizabeth I's reign, the moral dangers of overthrowing authority, and why the assassination scene unfolds at "the Capitol" instead of the historically accurate Curia of Pompey.

In this episode, we explore how time was measured in Shakespeare's England — from weight-driven household clocks to elite pocket watches imported from Germany. With Dr. Jane Desborough, we uncover how early modern clocks tracked not only hours but lunar phases, zodiac signs, and seasons, and why "accuracy" meant something very different before minute and second hands became standard.

In Shakespeare's lifetime, travel wasn't reserved for grand tours or royal progresses — it was woven into daily life. Ordinary Elizabethans crossed rivers, walked muddy roads, boarded boats, hired horses, and rode in wagons for business, family visits, market days, court appearances, and worship. England was constantly in motion. But how did people without titles or servants actually get from place to place, and what did it cost them in time, money, and effort? Today we're joined by Dr. Charmian Mansell, Lecturer in Early Modern History at the University of Sheffield and award-winning author of Female Servants in Early Modern England. Her research uncovers the practical realities of everyday travel in the 16th and 17th centuries — from routes and lodging to ferries, weather delays, and the surprising distances ordinary people were willing to go.

In Shakespeare's play, The Winter's Tale, Autolycus talks about "selling all my trumpery." The reference made me wonder if Autolycus was packing up all his attic junk and random periphery collected over the years to sell them in what might be considered a yard sale for Elizabethan England. Did Shakespeare's England have garage sales where people sold their gently used items to their peers and neighbors? And what about the potential for the Renaissance equivalent of a Goodwill wtore, a thrift store, or even a consignment or pawn shop? Was it possible that people in Shakespeare's lifetime were selling their used items for profit? In order to explore the world of second hand clothing, thrift stores, and pawn shops of Elizabethan England I'm delighted to welcome Dr. Kate Kelsey Staples, author of "The Significance of the Secondhand Trade in Europe, 1200–1600" to join us to help us explore exactly where one would have deposited or dispatched of their superfluous household goods.

There are many men who lived alongside William Shakespeare in turn of the 17th century England, but today's featured contemporary is a man who served as King James' ambassador to Venice in the 1600s. This man was named Henry Wotton. At grammar school, he received the same humanist education as Shakespeare, but unlike Shakespeare, Henry went on to university, studying at Oxford where he was tutored by Alberico Gentili, the man who was just then publishing the first handbook on international diplomacy. After graduation, Wotton spent five years travelling across Europe, stacking up experience that gained him employment, after which he returned to England to serve as personal secretary Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. That life abruptly ended when Wotton fled England after the 'Essex Rebellion' that cost Devereux his life. But a chance encounter brought Wotton to the attention of the man who, within months, would claim the English throne. King James recalled Wotton from exile -- and immediately sent him ambassador to Venice. Here today to share the remarkable story of Sir Henry Wotton—a man whose real-life adventures in diplomacy were unfolding even as Shakespeare was staging ambassadors on the London stage and setting his plays amid the politics of Venice—is our guest, Professor Carol Chillington Rutter, author of Lying abroad: Henry Wotton and the invention of diplomacy. In her book, Dr. Rutter explores the extraordinary life of the man King James I called his "honest dissembler"—a maverick diplomat who fled England in disgrace, only to return and redefine the very art of diplomacy in ways that still influence international relations today.

From delectable marchpane in Romeo and Juliet, and the herbs of the Merchant of Venice to stew'd prunes of Henry IV, and carving capons in Love's Labour's Lost, there is a wide gambit of meals consumed in Shakespeare's plays that span from bawdy feasts to elite noble banquets, and even popular meals eaten as much to control your behavior as they were seen as nourishment. The details about food found throughout Shakespeare's plays reflect the real foods enjoyed from the peasants to the royalty of Shakespeare's life. This week we are diving into these delectable delights with food historian and author Sam Bilton, to talk about her latest book, Much Ado About Cooking—which was created in collaboration with Shakespeare's Globe---that allows us to get a literal taste of Shakespeare. Much Ado About Cooking takes Shakespeare's own food references and pairs them with real recipes from his lifetime, then reimagines those recipes for the modern cook so that you can easily make, and eat, food from the life of William Shakespeare.

When Shakespeare wrote Hamlet, he gave the melancholy Dane two university friends with peculiarly Danish names—Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. For many centuries, audiences assumed these were simply fictional creations. Yet history reveals that Frederik Rosenkrantz and Knud Gyldenstierne were real men—Danish noblemen who traveled to England during Shakespeare's lifetime as part of an official embassy from the Danish court. Their visit took place during a fascinating moment of cultural diplomacy: King James VI of Scotland's marriage alliance with Denmark, his 1589 voyage to meet Anne of Denmark, and the exchanges of royal gifts that linked two kingdoms. This same period saw Tycho Brahe's astronomical fame rise across Europe, the University of Wittenberg flourish as an intellectual hub, and England's awareness of the Dutch Golden Age begin to take shape. Today we'll explore these threads with our guest, Paul Lockhart, Professor of HIstory and Drage Gould Distinguished Professor of Research at Wright State University. He has published seven single author books including "Denmark, 1513-1660: The Rise and Decline of the Renaissance Monarchy. You can see more of his publications and links to his current work in the show notes for today's episode. He joins us today to help us explore the story of two real courtiers whose names—and perhaps personalities—live on in one of Shakespeare's most famous plays.

When Shakespeare called the sisters in Macbeth "weird," he did not mean what we mean by the word today. In early modern England, "weird" carried deep associations with fate, prophecy, and supernatural power—ideas rooted in classical mythology, medieval folklore, and Renaissance belief. In this episode of That Shakespeare Life, we explore what "weird" really meant in the 16th and early 17th centuries, and how that meaning reshapes our understanding of one of Shakespeare's most famous groups of characters. Joining me are Dr. Anne-Maree Wicks and Professor Laurie Johnson, co-authors of Weird Shakespeare: The Weird Sisters and Macbeth, whose research traces the shifting language, textual history, and performance traditions surrounding Macbeth's enigmatic sisters. Together, we examine why Shakespeare never actually uses the phrase "weird sisters" in the play itself, how early spellings like weyward complicate modern interpretations, and when editors began standardizing the word as "weird." We also explore whether these figures may originally have been understood as fairies or nymphs rather than witches—and how later historical events, including witch trials and changing beliefs about the supernatural, shaped how audiences came to see them. This conversation invites us to step back into Shakespeare's world, where language was fluid, meanings were unstable, and the boundary between fate, folklore, and fear was anything but clear.