Elizabethan England

                As I am walking through the crowd in the afternoon sun to get to the entrance of the Globe, I am completely mesmerized. I forget all about the list of chores I still have to do when I get back to the farm this evening. There are an array of stalls set up before me selling merchandise and refreshments, sending my senses into a whirlwind. I see all of the upper class women dressed in their best gowns mingling with one another, trying not to get dirty by the little children running around their feet. There is so much to look at and take in all at once, this being my first visit to the Globe theatre. I’ve been listening to my mother talk about her favorite play, the suspenseful story of revenge in Hamlet by William Shakespeare, for months. Now I actually get to experience it for myself. As I weave through the large throngs of individuals, I can hear the anticipation in their voices about the play we are about to witness. My excitement is bottling up inside me and I feel as if I might burst. I carefully place my penny in the box as I enter the theater. Being a meager farmer’s daughter, sitting in the pit was the only seating option my family could afford. I am able to push to the front of the pit and take my place. I associate with the other “groundlings” near me as we watch the upper class gentlemen and gentlewomen take their seats on the stage and the galleries above us. I admire the fine fabrics and intricate designs on their dresses, feeling a little insecure of the light blue church dress my mother had made for me. Before I start feeling too diffident, the loud and echoing voices of the over 1500 people in the Globe go silent. The play is beginning. Finally, my mother’s story is coming to life. I see the acting troupe on stage with their realistic props and detailed costumes. I am immediately immersed into the plot line, along with everyone else in the Globe. I can only imagine what Shakespeare was feeling as he was writing this story. I stand on the hard cobblestone as trash and nut shells from the galleries and balconies fall around me, but I do not care. I stand there intently, shaking with anticipation, as I wait to see if Hamlet will succeed in avenging his father’s death. I hear the whispers of the other groundlings around me as the battle between Hamlet and Laertes commences. The clinking sounds of the swords on stage echo throughout the theatre, and one actor falls to the ground. The play is over and the actors take their bows. The sound of the clapping and cheering of everyone in the Globe rushes over me like a wave, and I join in too. I exit the theatre in the cool evening breeze. I have to hurry home to finish my chores and fulfill my promise to my little sisters of telling them all about the play. I run home as I replay the scenes of Shakespeare’s written words coming to life in my head.