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简介1578年艾汶河畔的斯特拉福镇。有位男孩坐在书桌旁专心地学习，他认真听课、拼命看书。可他在想些什么呢？1587年伦敦。一位年轻人首次到伦敦谋生。他听着闹市的喧嚣声，看看伦敦塔雄伟的大墙，望着泰晤士河的淙淙流水。“静谧的泰晤士河，潺潺地流淌，直到我唱完心中的歌。”1601年伦敦。泰晤士河上的船夫对人群大声喊着：“快来，快来，快来呀！‘环球剧院’快挤满人啦！”2000多观众渡过河，前来观看莎士比亚的最新一部戏剧——《哈姆雷特》。这本讲述莎士比亚生平故事的书是由托比叙述的。托比不是一个真实的人物——或许莎士比亚也曾有过这样一位朋友，不过，我们无法确知。但是书中的其他人物历史上确有其人。他们非常熟悉这位演员、诗人兼剧作家莎士比亚。他们称他“莎士比亚缙绅”，都认为他是英国最杰出的诗人。他的朋友本·琼生曾这样写道：“他不属于一个时代，而是属于所有的时代。”本书作者詹妮弗·芭斯特是位资历很深的教师和作家。她生活在英国西南的德文郡。1TobyremembersMynameisToby．I'manoldman，eighty-threethisspring．MyhouseisrightinthemiddleofStratford-upon-Avon，andIcanwatchthestreetmarketfrommywindow．ButIliveveryquietlynow．I'mjustanoldman，sittinginachair．IonceknewthegreatestmaninEngland．ForthirtyyearsIwashisfriend．Iworkedwithhiminthetheatre，throughthegoodtimesandthebadtime．Hewasagoodfriendtome．Hewasalsothebestplaywright，thebestpoet，thateverlivedinEngland．WillShakespearewashisname．Isawallhisplaysinthetheatre．Peoplelovedthem．Theyshouted，laughedandcried，ateoranges，andcalledformore．Allkindsofpeople．Kings，Queens，Princes，greatlordsandladies，poorpeople，theboyswhoheldthehorses…everyone．WillShakespearecouldpleasethemall．Heputmeinaplayonce．Well，heusedmyname-Toby．TwelfthNightwastheplay，Iremember．SirTobyBelch．Hewasabigfatman，wholikeddrinkingtoomuchandhavingagoodtime．QueenElizabeththeFirstwatchedthatplay-onTwelfthNight，the6thofJanuary，1601．Shelikedit，too．Will'sdeadnow，ofcourse．He'sbeendeadmorethanthirtyyears，andnooneseeshisplaysnow．ThePuritanshaveclosedallthetheatres．There'snosinging，nodancing，noplays．Itwasn'tlikethatinmyyoungdays．WehadagoodtimeinLondon，WillandI…I'venoteethnow，andmyhairhasallfallenout，butIcanstillthink—andremember．IrememberwhenWillandIwereyoung，justboysreally…1托比的回忆我叫托比，一位年迈的老人，今年春天年过83岁。家住艾汶河畔斯特拉福镇中心，透过窗户，便可以望到街道的闹市。我的生活平和宁静，毕竟我已是一位要在轮椅上安度晚年的老头子了。我曾认识英国的一位最伟大的人物。我与他相交30年，同在剧团工作，也共同度过人生中欢乐与艰辛的岁月。他是我的好友，也是英国有史以来最优秀的剧作家，最杰出的诗人。他就是威尔·莎士比亚。我看过他所有上演的戏剧。这些戏剧颇受欢迎，也一度令观众狂喜大悲，不过他们都希望能看到他更多的戏剧。形形色色的人，上自国王、王后、王子和豪富名女，下至贫苦百姓和牵马的脚夫……所有的人，威尔·莎士比亚都能令他们开心欢娱。他曾将我写进剧本，剧中用了我的原名——托比。我记得剧名为《第十二夜》，剧中的托比·培尔契爵士又大又胖而且喜欢酗酒行乐。女王伊丽莎白一世于1601年1月6号观看了此剧——《第十二夜》，也很喜欢。当然威尔现在已不在人世，他过世都30多年了，如今没有人能看到他的戏。自从清教徒关闭了所有的剧院，就不再有歌声、舞蹈和戏剧了。如今的情形同我年轻时与威尔在伦敦度过的快乐时光相比已经大不一样了。现在虽然我一副老态，没有牙齿，头发也掉光了，但我还能思考——还能回忆，我记得威尔和我年轻的时候，还是孩子的时候……2Stratford-upon-AvonItwasasunnydayinOctober1579whenIfirstmetWill，justoutsideStratford，nearabigfieldofappletrees．Isawaboyupinoneofthetrees．Hehadredhairandlookedabouttwoyearsolderthanme．‘Whatareyoudoingupthere？’Icalled．‘Justgettingafewapples，’hesaid，smiling‘ThoseareFarmerNash'sapples，Isaid，‘andhe'llsendhisdogsafteryouifheseesyou．’‘MrNashhasgonetomarket，’theboysaid．‘Comeon！They'regoodapples．’ThenextminuteIwasupthetreewithhim．ButWillwaswrong．FarmerNashwasn'tatthemarket，andafewminuteslaterwesawhisangryredfaceabovethewallonthefarsideofthefield．WillandIranlikethewindandonlystoppedwhenwereachedtheriver．Wesatdowntoeatourapples．Willwasfifteen，andlivedinHenleyStreet，hetoldme．HisfatherwasJohnShakespeare，andhehadasister，Joan，andtwoyoungerbrothers，GilbertandRichard．Therewasanothersisterwhodied，Ilearntlater．Andthenextyearhehadanotherbrother，littleEdmund—thebabyofthefamily．‘Now，whataboutyou？’heasked．‘There'sonlymeandmysister，’Isaid．‘Myparentsaredead，andwelivewithmymother'sbrother：He'sashoe-makerinElyStreetandIworkforhim．Whatdoyoudo？’‘IgotoMrJenkins'schoolinChurchStreet，’Willsaid．‘Everyday，fromseveno'clockuntilfiveo'clock．NotSundays，ofcourse．’Iwassorryforhim．‘Isn'tisboring？’Iasked．‘Sometimes．Usuallyit'sallright．’Helaybackandputhishandsbehindhishead．‘ButwehavetoreadandlearnalltheseLatinwriters．Iwanttoreadmodernwriters，andEng-lishwriters，likeGeoffreyChaucer．Canyouread？’heasked．‘OfcourseIcanread！’Isaid．‘Iwenttoschool．’Willsatupandbegantoeatanotherapple．‘Iwanttobeawriter，’hesaid．‘Apoet．Iwantthatmorethananythingintheworld．’Wewerefriendsfromthatday，untilthedayhedied．Wemetnearlyeveryday，andhetaughtmealotaboutbooksandpoetryandwriters．Healwayshadhisnoseinabook．WhenWillleftschool，heworkedforhisfatherinHenleyStreet．JohnShakespearewasaglove-maker，andhehadotherbusinesstoo，likebuyingandsellingsheep．ButWillwasn'tinterested．‘Whatarewegoingtodo，Toby？’hesaidtomeoneday．‘Wecan'tspendallourlivesmakingshoesandgloves！’‘Well，’Isaid，‘wecouldrunawaytoseaandbesailors．Sailroundtheworld，likeFrancisDrake．DrakesailedbacktoPlymouthin1581，afterhisthree-yearjourneyroundtheworld，butwewerestillinStratford．Wemadelotsofplans，butnothingevercameofthem．Willwasstillreadingalotandhewasalreadywritingpoemshimself．Hesometimesshowedthemtome，andIsaidtheywereverygood．Ididn'treallyknowanythingaboutpoetrythen，buthewasmyfriend．Willwasnothappywithhiswriting．‘I'vegotsomuchtolearn，Toby，’hesaid．‘Somuchtolearn．’PoorWill．Hehadalottolearnaboutwomen，too．OnedayinOctober1582hecametomyhousewithalongface．‘I'llneverleaveStratford．’hesaid．‘Whynot？’Iasked．‘We'llgetawayoneday．You'llsee．’‘Perhapsyouwill，’hesaid，‘butI'mgoingtobemarriedinafewweeks'time．ToAnneHathaway．’Mymouthfellopenandstayedopen．‘Married！ToAnneHathaway？IsthattheHathawaysoveratShottery？’‘Yes，’Willsaid．Iwasworkingonsomeshoesonthetable，andWillpickedoneupandlookedatit．‘Well，er，she'safine