BODY AND VOICE PERFORMANCES IN THE ELIZABETHAN THEATRE
The Elizabethan theatre has always been perceived as dominated by poets and text. This opinion, however, has been challenged by recent performance studies. Shakespeare and his fellow writers composed scripts with specific actors in mind, and the plays actually performed on stage were quite different from the long, literary texts later printed in editions of “the collected works”. In a live performance the clown was often more important than the poet. It was not a sole artistic vision that stimulated the creation of a character in the play but the makeup of the company as well. Perhaps there would have been no Falstaff if Will Kemp had not been one of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, and no Hamlet without Richard Burbage. Human bodies and voices performed crucial functions during these performances inside the wooden theatres that worked like huge acoustic boxes. The texts of the plays were packed with cues. Actors’ parts resembled musical scores for highly professional artists, all of which were male and many still young boys. In the Elizabethan theatre, poets and performers developed intriguing performative strategies – often musical in character – that transformed theatrical productions into unique participatory events.
Performances of the body: Jumping Will Kemp
In May 1594, Henry Carey, the Lord Chamberlain, serving as protector of the queen’s access to professionally staged plays, formed the Chamberlain’s Men, destined to become the most famous company in the history of Elizabethan theatre. Core members of the company were William Kemp, Richard Burbage and William Shakespeare. At that time Will Kemp, primarily a solo performer, was already a well-known, recognized clown, as well as an accomplished dancer and singer. For a professional clown he was appropriately ugly, had a squint, could speak with a rustic accent and suffered from serious obesity, which didn’t hinder him from performing the high-spirited leaps that made him famous. His huge body was his primary vehicle for clowning.
The forming of the “Lord Chamberlain’s Men” probably stimulated an immediate response in Shakespeare. In his comedy The Two Gentlemen of Verona, he constructed a new part especially for Will Kemp. Launce, “a clownish servant”, was properly silly, because a true clown never mocks others but rather makes people laugh at him. In this comedy there is also another clown, named Speed. This part, in contrast to the episodic appearances of Launce, had been originally integrated into the action. Therefore, the part of Speed must have been the earlier, original clown role.
Launce comes on stage for the first time in the second act of The Two Gentlemen of Verona. He completely ignores the ongoing action of the play and, as in the solo clown performances typical of Kemp, conducts a witty dialogue with the audience. In his famous monologue with a dog he uses his shoes to reconstruct the emotionally agonizing parting with his family. His struggle is great. His family is large and his shoes are only two. Throughout this scene Launce endlessly modifies and improves the arrangement of the shoes and the dog.
How did Will Kemp actually play this scene? Did he keep bending his huge body to reach the shoes? Did he sit on the floor all the time? Or maybe he stood and juggled his shoes? And what about his dog? Of course, the actor’s obesity made the scene more entertaining. Shakespeare, if he really wrote this part for Kemp, proved to be an excellent stage director. There was no official post for a director in the Elizabethan theatre, so the author had to build all the stage directions right into the dialogues and monologues of the characters. By forcing fat Kemp to juggle with his shoes, Shakespeare enabled the actor to fully exploit his natural and exceptional gifts. As a result, however, the remarkable, rich humor of this scene was best manifested and recognized only during a live performance. “The play’s the thing”, to quote Hamlet. An actor’s body expands and modifies the meanings of a poet’s words.
The earliest copy of The Two Gentlemen of Verona is found in the first edition of the complete works by Shakespeare, published posthumously in 1623 and known as the First Folio (F). Yet half of the poet’s plays were printed earlier, when he was alive, in separate editions. These differed substantially from each other and from the Folio. In 1597 John Danter and Edward Allde printed AN EXCELLENT conceited Tragedie OF Romeo and Iuliet. As it hath been often (with great applause) plaid publiquely, by the right and Honourable the L. of Hunsdon his Seruants. This edition is called the First Quarto (Q1). Two years later Thomas Creed printed, for the publisher Cuthbert Burby, THE MOST Excellent and lamentable Tragedie, of Romeo and Iuliet. Newly corrected, augmented, and amended: As it hath bene sundry times publiquely acted, by the right Honourable the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants. This edition is known as the Second Quarto (Q2). With some 700 lines more than Q1, Q2 is almost one third longer. The terms “folio” and “quarto” refer to the number of type-pages printed on each side of a sheet, which is then folded once or twice. One side of a folio contains two type-pages and one side of a quarto, four type-pages.
Both these early editions of the tragedy include information invaluable for reconstructing Elizabethan theatre practices. In a few instances, Q1 and Q2 use the speech heading “Clown”, where later editions use “The Serving-Man” or “Peter”. Twice the clown is actually named. In Q1 of Romeo and Juliet, Capulet accosts the servant who is carrying damp logs. “Go, go, choose the drier. Will will tell thee where thou shalt fetch them” (17.41). The “Will” is Will Kemp, of course. Q2 has the famous stage direction: “Enter Will Kemp” (Through Line Number 2679.1). The character in the play was identified with the actor. Shakespeare undoubtedly wrote this part for the clown with Will Kemp prominent in his mind. The overweight soloist and natural improviser was consciously challenged to perform acrobatic feats and to interact with the audience. Thus, the performer’s body was a source of poetic inspiration.
The most famous part Shakespeare wrote for Kemp was Falstaff. In constructing this character for 1 Henry IV the poet made good use of his previous collaborative experience with the clown. This relationship certainly wasn’t trouble-free. Kemp allegedly often added his own lines or routines. In 1599 Kemp left Shakespeare’s company suddenly, under circumstances that are still obscure. Shortly after, Shakespeare writes the following words for Hamlet. “Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them, for there be of them that will themselves laugh to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too” (Hamlet 3.2). Was Will Kemp on Shakespeare’s mind when he was writing these words? In John Day’s Travails of Three English Brothers, Kemp is depicted as describing himself as “good at extemporization”, but “somewhat hard of study”.
In 1 Henry IV, Falstaff enters the action during the second scene of the first act. Modern producers often stage this scene in the tavern. Most editors, however, assume that Falstaff visits the Prince’s apartment in London. But Shakespeare did not specify the location. In this instance, such information is of no importance to the players. This is true for many other scenes as well. What mattered during the performance was the advancement of the action. The “Two hours’ traffic” declared in the Prologue to Romeo and Juliet required the players to act fast in order to deliver all 2989 lines of Romeo and Juliet or 2968 lines of 1 Henry IV. Each entrance of an actor transformed the stage radically. Performers’ corporality was crucial for the narrative of the performance. If knowledge of the particular location of a scene contributed to its understanding, Shakespeare incorporated all the necessary information into the actors’ dialogue to stimulate this insight in the spectators. The Elizabethan theatre was a participatory art.
The longest and most famous scene in 1 Henry IV is the fourth scene in the second act. It provides the most impressive and entertaining performance possibilities for Falstaff. The overweight clown enacts, in front of his friends, his fabricated battle with the bandits, who multiply miraculously with each new line of his story and charge of his dagger. Caught lying, Falstaff saves himself from potential oppression with an outstanding and surprising monologue sparked with humor. Perhaps this monologue was inspired by Will Kemp’s solo improvisations.
Prince Hal, in 1 Henry IV, addresses the exceptional physique of the clown by calling it “this huge hill of flesh” (2.4.202). This type of description of the clown is actually present in the dialogues and monologues of many characters. In the fifth act, during the famous battle at Shrewsbury, Falstaff’s body is put to a challenge similar to the earlier one in The Two Gentlemen of Verona. First, the Prince throws a bottle of sack at him (5.3.56). For many modern directors this scene is crucial and symbolic. The rejection of the bottle, a symbol of the tavern, foreshadows Hal’s final rejection of Falstaff in 2 Henry IV. A short time later Falstaff fights with brave Douglas and “falls down as if he were dead” (stage direction at 5.4.75). Nearby, Hal and Hotspur have their fight to the death. After Hal leaves the stage, Falstaff “resurrects” and stumbles upon the body of Hotspur. Falstaff wants to attribute this killing of the enemy to himself. He tries to lift the corpse in order to carry it to the King and claim a reward. By the late eighteenth century the bookseller Thomas Davis maintained that “No joke ever raised such loud and repeated mirth, in the galleries, as Sir John’s labour in getting the body of Hotspur on his back.”
Although, in reading, Falstaff’s role seems complex and precisely constructed, it still allowed Kemp to improvise. Even the famous scene in 1 Henry IV where Falstaff fakes his own death has an open structure. Hal, after killing Hotspur, speaks a solemn epitaph for his dead enemy. He then notices the prostrate Falstaff and, assuming he is dead too, delivers a parody of an epitaph, tormenting “all this flesh” with jokes and insults. Kemp might have remained frozen till the actor playing Hal exited. But he could also have chosen, just after he fell down, to interact with the audience and comment on the stage action with his gestures, silly faces and rolling eyes. His commentaries would have been particularly amusing during Hal’s offensive monologue over Falstaff’s fake corpse.
Will Kemp’s Falstaff was an immediate hit in London. He also appeared in The Merry Wives of Windsor, completed in fourteen days to a special commission from the queen (according to a late legend of uncertain veracity), and in 2 Henry IV (at 2.4.13, Q’s stage direction reads: “Enter Will”). The Epilogue to 2 Henry IV promised the audience that in the next production Sir John would continue to “make you marry” and that he would die of a “sweat”, a venereal disease. But in Henry V, Falstaff is conspicuously absent. Will Kemp left the Chamberlain’s Men before Shakespeare had completed the text. The older plays with Falstaff continued to be performed, although with different actors playing. Shakespeare never wrote a new part for Falstaff. Of course, today it is impossible to assess Kemp’s complete contribution to Shakespeare’s Falstaff, but the clown’s distinctive presence must have powerfully inspired the poet.
Usually the clown did not take part in the final scene of an Elizabethan play. This was because he had to prepare for a jig. This was a short, typically obscene farce, offered separately after the play was finished. Two hours of concentration and the generation of powerful emotions required a release. During the jig, the clowns danced, sang and spoke in metrical verse, and the spectators were encouraged to join in the revelry with clapping and shouting. The most famous jig attributed to Kemp, called Rowland, was written in 1591 at the latest and survives as a German Singspiel. In two short jig-skits concerning marital infidelity, the main characters fake their own deaths, just as Falstaff does in the finale of 1 Henry IV, completed in 1596/7. Could the bawdy jig have inspired Shakespeare? Shortly after Kemp left, the Chamberlain’s Men abandoned all jigs.
Kemp’s jigs were distinguished by their music and dance. A few months after parting with Shakespeare, in February 1600, during Lent, when the theatres were closed, Kemp danced all the way from London to Norwich, possibly to win a bet. His leap over the churchyard wall in Norwich was so remarkable that his shoes, a pair of old buskins, were hung in the Guildhall to mark the height. “To this day, a plaque on the wall of St John Maddermarket commemorates the famous leap”. In his pamphlet Kemp included two short “rhymes” written for him by another author. In one sketch a drunken innkeeper reenacts battles in which he allegedly fought… like Falstaff in 1 Henry IV. His only published writing, Kemp’s Nine Days’ Wonder, relates the details of his famous “Morris Dance”, a nine-day marathon, spread over a month.
This London-Norwich marathon was a broadly advertised event and a commercial venture. Its great success inspired Kemp to dance to Italy. In the spring of 1601 he crossed the Alps and in the summer reached Rome. Later he had his own company in Germany. Will Kemp’s distinctive talent as a clown and his ability to use his body in the ways that he did, was not only creative but also heroic. Perhaps this is why he could stimulate the imagination of the best poet of his times.
Performances of the voice: Richard Burbage in the Globe
Richard Burbage died on 13 March 1619. One posthumous elegy lamented not just his passing but the end of all performances of Shakespeare’s plays. This is because the creation of each role had been identified with a specific actor. This was especially true for Burbage. Long after Burbage was dead, theatre aficionados still believed that only the first actor to play the role could play the role properly and that all subsequent performers should recover and model the “true original”. The “real” Hamlet, Othello and Lear were Burbage.
Elizabethan theatre practice blurred the boundaries between the performer and his stage character. Each actor received a paper roll with his part only, divided by horizontal lines, called “tails”, and cues. But he was not informed who spoke the cues. So an Elizabethan actor had to be vigilant, especially if there were many actors on the stage – another example of the “built in” directing method of Shakespeare. Each actor only knew his own part. He would be able to picture the other characters’ roles only slightly through their cues. These one-, two- or three-word cues were often misleading. Group rehearsals were rare. The actors were not paid for rehearsals and a professional performer did not require group rehearsals, because he specialized in a particular character-type that inspired the construction of the part directly. Elizabethan performances resembled modern “jam sessions” rather than a performance one might see today in a contemporary theatre. Each day the company had to stage a different play. There was no guarantee that a production would be repeated after the opening night. Everything depended on the audience. “At the first performance in the theatre the plays were ‘tested’ for approval by the people.” If rejected, the play was forgotten or had to be re-written.
This particular practice forced the poet to keep actors in mind while composing a play. An actor’s failure could plunge the author into oblivion. If the company had a boy-actor who could sing and speak well in Welsh, the poet could include a singing Welsh girl in his new play, as Shakespeare did in 1 Henry IV, creating the part of Lady Mortimer. The role has no text, only the headings: “The Lady speaks in Welsh,” “The Lady speaks again in Welsh”, “Here the Lady sings a Welsh song”. The boy-actor himself had to provide the words and music. If an adult actor had a talented apprentice, the poet could write dialogues for both to extend the teaching. For instance, in the second part of Othello, Desdemona has more than half her lines cued by Othello, and more than half her lines answered by him. Thus, Burbage and a boy-actor could study their parts together.
Before he became a famous playwright, Shakespeare had been an actor. He gained a thorough training by studying a great variety of paper rolls with his parts, learning to envision the action of the play in terms of separate characters. This experience helped him develop in parallel different performers’ voices in complex dramatic situations, as Bach did later in the fugue. Contrary to commonly repeated post-Restoration gossip, Shakespeare’s contemporaries regarded him as a brilliant actor, “excellent in the quality he professes” (Henry Chettle). John Aubrey, England’s first archeologist, states that Shakespeare “did act exceedingly well.” He continued acting until at least 1605. In that year he played in Sejanus, headed the cast-list of Every Men in His Humour and was remembered in actor Augustine Phillips’s will as “my fellow, like the others”.
Today we know only one professional theatre part penned on paper roll in the 1590s, when Shakespeare was alive and writing for the theatre. It is the part of Orlando in Robert Green’s play Orlando Furioso, used by Burbage’s main rival, Edward Alleyn. The manuscript contains cuts and corrections made quite possibly by Alleyn himself. This must have been a common practice. In early printed copies of Shakespeare’s plays, actor’s interferences are often traceable. Burbage altered his part in Hamlet to include extra revenge-tragedy rants in his speeches. One of his epitaphs complains, “No more young Hamlet […] Shall cry ‘Revenge’ for his dear father’s death.” No extant copy of the play preserved a cry for “revenge”. Burbage was singled out for “never falling in his Part when he had done speaking; but with looks and gesture, maintaining it still”. The actor who managed to keep the audience’s attention while being silent certainly inspired Shakespeare to create the parts of Brutus and Hamlet, the first great characters in Western drama equipped with such complex inner worlds.
The First Quarto of Hamlet (1603) stirs particularly heated controversies and interest as an important testimony to Elizabethan theatre practice. Its text is radically different from the Second Quarto (1604/5) and Folio versions of the play and about fifty per cent shorter. In Q1, actors’ additions are still traceable; some of them made perhaps by Burbage himself. The most discussed example is the “To be or not to be” soliloquy. Q1 moves the monologue forward, before the scene with the Players, which quickens the pace and flow of the action.
Here are the opening lines of the famous speech in the two main versions:
To be, or not to be, I there’s the point, [I=ay]
To Die, to sleepe, is that all? I all:
No, to sleepe, to dreame, I marry there it goes,
For in that dreame of death, when wee awake,
And borne before an euerlasting Iudge,
From whence no passenger euer retur’nd,
The vndiscouered country, at whose sight
The happy smile, and the accursed damn’d.
To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
Whether ‘tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
The Slings and Arrowes of outrageous fortune,
Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
That Flesh is heyre too? ‘Tis a consummation.
The Q1 soliloquy contains typical words and phrases used by actors in their improvisations, like “I=ay” or “I marry”. Such expressions make the recitation more dynamic and radically modify the melody of speech, bringing it closer to everyday language. Burbage was famous for his realism. In Q1, the rhythm of the monologue is fractured. It moves the actor to address the spectators rather than his own interior Self. The text is also much simpler and less philosophical than in later editions. Shakespeare’s directions, built into the part, transform the text into a musical score and reinforce the speech’s performative effectiveness. Prosodic switches stimulate oral performance; pauses, changes of tone and rhythm, shifts of addressee. The audience-oriented soliloquy blurs the boundaries between real presence and theatrical display. The Q1 speech evokes the actor’s improvisation restrained within the metrical pattern of the verse.
Several characters in Q1 differ significantly from their counterparts in Q2 and F; in Q1, the King is simply a villain, with no remorse; the helpless Ophelia is victimized by all; the almost amiable Queen plots with her son and his friend against the King; Hamlet is possessed by the thirst for revenge. This Hamlet corresponds to the reports of how Burbage played this part. All the major characters in the play have distinctive voices. This must have helped the audience to follow the fast and polyphonic action of this performance. Q1 also contains an exceptional meta-theatrical joke. While speaking with the players, Hamlet says eight lines which are absent from all later editions. He criticizes the actors for letting their “clown speak more than is set down” and at the same time parodies these additions vividly (9.21-28). Is this Burbage, the greatest tragedian, mocking and quoting Kemp, the greatest comic?
Elizabethan drama preserved many voices, apart from the poet’s contribution; the voices of many actors are also recoverable. These polyphonic theatre symphonies were presented in a very particular acoustic environment. The Globe, where Burbage played Hamlet, was a free-standing, wooden, twenty-sided polygon. The yard was unroofed, and there was a canopy over the stage to protect expensive costumes against the bad weather. Both Burbage and Shakespeare were shareholders in the company and helped to raise the Globe. They could draw on their previous experience of playing in the Theatre, their earlier building. The decision to use expensive oak timbers, partly transferred from the dismantled Theatre, must have been deliberate. Most new theatres in London were built of brick, as it was much cheaper.
Vibrations in wood are short in duration, but wood catches the harmonic complexities of sound better than stone or metal. An oak building was a gigantic sounding board. The Globe was a polygonal theatre-instrument, with three levels of galleries for the audience and a canopy over the stage which provided plenty of reflective surfaces for sound. Each actor, like a musician, must have learned to “play his instrument”, meaning to use the sonic potential of the playhouse to its fullest extent. The canopy helped to project the actor’s voice towards the spectators standing in the yard and sitting in the galleries, but only if the actor occupied the space beneath the canopy, near the tiring room. An actor could command the greatest acoustic power when he was not standing downstage. Thanks to the absence of a roof over the yard, the sounds and noises of the audience were not projected towards the stage and therefore did not disturb the players.
The Globe was a very voluminous cylinder, about 30 meters in diameter and 10 meters high. It could accommodate about 3000 people. The spectators were everywhere. The wealthiest patrons sat in the Lords’ Room on the balcony immediately over the stage and sometimes even on stools directly on the stage. Human bodies and dresses radically modified the acoustics by damping and delaying the propagation of sound. Actors had to be aware of speaking at a slow enough pace to be understood by everyone in the different sections of the audience.
Hamlet was the longest part written by Shakespeare. It required the theatre building to have strong acoustics and for Burbage to have control of his voice. Q1 of Hamlet abounds in punctuation marks, which also demonstrates its theatrical background. Between 1590 and 1630, English punctuation practices underwent a major transformation. The early phonetic-elocutional system, termed “physiological” by Walter Ong, was replaced by the grammatical-semantic approach, called “syntactical”. Q1 contains traces of physiological punctuation, controlled by the rhythm of fast breathing. In order to be audible in the entire theatre, Burbage had to use more breath than during a regular conversation and therefore he had to breathe quite often. Short phrases make speech more dynamic. Correct pronunciation helped the actor to voice passions that were considered to be the major building-blocks of the play. According to his contemporaries, Burbage had absolute control of his passions. In his speech “not a word did fall without just weight to ballast it withal”.
The Elizabethan theatre was a polyphonic concert for body and voice, presented in a specially constructed free-standing building that worked as a huge vintage instrument. The text of the play was treated as an open score, open for the actors’ improvisations. Elizabethan performance was a collaborative effort and involved many creative participants. The performers and their characters in the performance were often indistinguishable. The shortest and most pertinent epitaph for an actor was: “––Exit Burbage.” After the clown Will Kemp died, the burial entry stated, “Kempe, a man”.
Crystal D., „Think on my Words”: Exploring Shakespeare’s Language, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2008.
Erne L. (ed.), The First Quarto of Romeo and Juliet. The New Cambridge Shakespeare. The Early Quartos, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2007.
Gurr A., The Shakespearean Stage 1574-1642, Third Edition, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1992.
Gurr A., The Shakespeare Company, 1595-1642, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2004.
Irace K. O. (ed.), The First Quarto of Hamlet, The New Cambridge Shakespeare. The Early Quartos, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1998.
Mann D., Shakespeare’s Women: Performance and Conception, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2008.
McMillin S., “The Sharer and his Boy: Rehearsing Shakespeare’s Women”, [in:] From Script to Stage in Early Modern England, ed. by Holland P., Orgel S., Palgrave Macmillan, New York 2004.
Palfrey S., Stern T., Shakespeare in Parts, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2007.
Peat D., Falstaff Gets the Sack, “Shakespeare Quarterly” 2002, nr 53.3.
Smith B. R., The Acoustic World of Early Modern England: Attending to the O-Factor, University of Chicago Press, Chicago 1999.
Stern T., Rehearsal from Shakespeare to Sheridan, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2000.
Tucker P., Secrets of Acting Shakespeare, Routledge, London and New York 2001.
Weil H., Weil J. (eds.), The First Part of King Henry IV , The New Cambridge Shakespeare, updated edition, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2007 (1997¹).
Wiles D., Shakespeare’s Clown: Actor and text in the Elizabethan playhouse, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1987.
Wilson J. D. (ed.), The First part of the History of Henry IV , New Shakespeare, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1946.
 In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the word “part” was a technical term for a paper roll containing the entire text of an actor’s role in the play.
 D. Wiles, Shakespeare’s Clown: Actor and text in the Elizabethan playhouse (Cambridge University Press, 1987), 73.
 S. Palfrey and T. Stern, Shakespeare in Parts (Oxford University Press, 2007), 3; cf. P. Tucker, Secrets of Acting Shakespeare (London and New York: Routledge, 2001).
 L. Erne Lukas (ed.), The First Quarto of Romeo and Juliet, The New Cambridge Shakespeare. The Early Quartos (Cambridge University Press, 2007), 2.
 D. Wiles, Shakespeare’s Clown, 116–135.
 S. Palfrey and T. Stern, Shakespeare in Parts, 64.
 D. Peat, ‘Falstaff Gets the Sack’, Shakespeare Quarterly 53/3 (2002), 380.
 H. Weil and J. Weil (eds.), The First Part of King Henry IV, The New Cambridge Shakespeare (Cambridge University Press, 2007), 45.
 D. Wiles, Shakespeare’s Clown, 48–50.
 Ibid, 24.
 Cited in S. Pulfrey and T. Stern, Shakespeare in Parts, 48.
 Ibid, 69.
 T. Stern, Rehearsal from Shakespeare to Sheridan (Oxford University Press, 2000), 113.
 S. McMillin Scott, ‘The Sharer and his Boy: Rehearsing Shakespeare’s Women’, in From Script to Stage in Early Modern England, ed. P. Holland and S. Orgel (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 233–236.
 All quotes after D. Mann, Shakespeare’s Women: Performance and Conception (Cambridge University Press, 2008), 26–27.
 Brome and Flecknoe; cited in T. Stern, Rehearsal from Shakespeare to Sheridan, 99–100.
 K. Irace (ed.), The First Quarto of Hamlet. The New Cambridge Shakespeare. The Early Quartos (Cambridge University Press, 1998), 1–27.
 A. Gurr, The Shakespeare Company, 1595-1642 (Cambridge University Press, 2004), 222.
 A. Gurr, The Shakespearean Stage 1574-1642, 3rd edn (Cambridge University Press, 1992), 141.
 B. Smith, The Acoustic World of Early Modern England: Attending to the O-Factor (University of Chicago Press, 1999), 208–214.
 D. Crystal, “Think on my Words”: Exploring Shakespeare’s Language (Cambridge University Press, 2008), 68; B. Smith, The Acoustic World, 239.
 Burbage’s epitaph, cited in S. Palfrey and T. Stern, Shakespeare in Parts, 320.