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．

　　Will was fifteen，and lived in Henley Street，he told me．His father was John Shakespeare，and he had a sister，Joan，and two younger brothers，Gilbert and Richard．There was another sister who died，I learnt later．And the next year he had another brother，little Edmund—the baby of the family．

　　‘Now，what about you？’he asked．

　　‘There's only me and my sister，’I said．‘My parents are dead，and we live with my mother's brother：He's a shoe-maker in Ely Street and I work for him．What do you do？’

　　‘I go to Mr Jenkins' school in Church Street，’Will said．‘Every day，from seven o'clock until five o'clock．Not Sundays，of course．’

　　I was sorry for him．‘Isn't is boring？’I asked．

　　‘Sometimes．Usually it's all right．’He lay back and put his hands behind his head．‘But we have to read and learn all these Latin writers．I want to read modern writers，and Eng-lish writers，like Geoffrey Chaucer．Can you read？’he asked．

　　‘Of course I can read！’I said．‘I went to school．’

　　Will sat up and began to eat another apple．‘I want to be a writer，’he said．‘A poet．I want that more than anything in the world．’

　　We were friends from that day，until the day he died．We met nearly every day，and he taught me a lot about books and poetry and writers．He always had his nose in a book．

　　When Will left school，he worked for his father in Henley Street．John Shakespeare was a glove-maker，and he had other business too，like buying and selling sheep．But Will wasn't interested．

　　‘What are we going to do，Toby？’he said to me one day．‘We can't spend all our lives making shoes and gloves！’

　　‘Well，’I said，‘we could run away to sea and be sailors．Sail round the world，like Francis Drake．

　　Drake sailed back to Plymouth in 1581，after his three-year journey round the world，but we were still in Stratford．We made lots of plans，but nothing ever came of them．

　　Will was still reading a lot and he was already writing poems himself．He sometimes showed them to me，and I said they were very good．I didn't really know anything about poetry then，but he was my friend．

　　Will was not happy with his writing．‘I've got so much to learn，Toby，’he said．‘So much to learn．’

　　Poor Will．He had a lot to learn about women，too．One day in October 1582 he came to my house with a long face．

　　‘I'll never leave Stratford．’he said．

　　‘Why not？’I asked．‘We'll get away one day．You'll see．’

　　‘Perhaps you will，’he said，‘but I'm going to be married in a few weeks' time．To Anne Hathaway．’

　　My mouth fell open and stayed open．‘Married！To Anne Hathaway？Is that the Hathaways over at Shottery？’

　　‘Yes，’Will said．I was working on some shoes on the table，and Will picked one up and looked at it．

　　‘Well，er，she's a fine girl，of course，’I said uncomfort-ably．‘But…but，Will，she's twenty-six and you're only eighteen！’

　　‘I know，’Will said．‘But I've got to marry her．’

　　‘Oh no！’I said．‘You mean，she's…’

　　‘That's right，’said Will．‘In about six months' time I'm going to be a father．’

　　2 艾汶河畔的斯特拉福镇

　　我第一次遇见威尔是在1579年10月的一天。那天，阳光明媚，就在斯特拉福镇外一座大苹果园附近，我看见有棵苹果树上坐着一位小男孩，长着红棕色头发，看模样大概大我两岁。

　　“你在上边干什么？”我叫道。

　　“摘苹果。”他笑着答道。

　　“那可是纳什农场主的苹果，”我说，“如果他发现了，就要放狗咬你的。”

　　“纳什先生去集市了，”男孩说道，“来吧！苹果不错。”

　　一会儿我也上了树。但是威尔错了，纳什先生并没去集市，几分钟后我们看见果园那端墙头露出一张气得发红的脸。

　　威尔和我见势撒腿就跑，一口气跑到河边才坐下来吃苹果。

　　威尔告诉我，他15岁，住在亨里街。家中有父亲约翰·莎士比亚，妹妹琼和两个弟弟，吉尔伯特和理查。我后来听说他另有一位姐姐死了。第二年他又添了一个弟弟——威尔家的赤子小埃德蒙。

　　“那么你呢？”他问道。

　　“家里只有我和姐姐，”我说，“父母死后我们住在舅舅家。他是埃利街的一个鞋匠，我为他打工。你现在干什么？”

　　“我在教堂街詹金斯先生的学校就读，”威尔说，“每天从上午7点到下午5点上学，当然不包括星期天。”

　　我真为他难过。“这难道不乏味吗？”我问道。

　　“偶尔有这种感觉，不过通常觉得学校的生活也不错。”他仰身躺下，双手枕着头，“在学校，我们不得不学习所有那些拉丁作家的作品。可我只想阅读现代作家和英国作家的作品，比如杰弗利·乔叟。你会看书吗？”他问道。

　　“当然会啦！”我说，“我上过学。”

　　威尔坐起来又吃了一个苹果。“我想成为作家，”他继续说道，“诗人。世上再没有比这更令我神往的。”

　　自那天起我们就成了莫逆之交，直到他过世。我们几乎每天见面，他教了我许多书本和文学上的知识。他总是埋头博览群书。

　　威尔离开学校后就在亨里街帮助父亲料理生意。约翰·莎士比亚是一位手套工匠，同时经营其他生意，如羊的买卖生意。但威尔对做生意却不感兴趣。

　　“托比，接下来你有何打算？”有一天他问我。“我们不能一辈子都做鞋和做手套吧！”

　　“对呀，”我说，“我们跑到海上当海员会，像弗朗西斯·杜雷克一样环绕地球航行。”

　　杜雷克在环绕地球航行三年后于1581年回到普利茅斯，可我们还是呆在斯特拉福镇。尽管也制定了种种计划，但始终未付诸行动。

　　这段时间威尔依然博览群书并开始自己写诗，偶尔给我看他写的诗。虽然嘴上我都说他的诗写得好，实际上我对诗歌是一窍不通。只不过他是我的好友我才这么说而已。

　　威尔对自己的诗歌并不满意。“托比，我要学的东西太多了。”他说，“实在太多了。”

　　可怜的威尔。他还得学会了解每个人。1582年10月的一天他来到我的住处，神情沉郁。

　　“我永远不能离开斯特拉福镇了。”他说。

　　“为什么不能？”我问道，“总有一天我们会离开此地。你等着瞧。”

　　“或许你还行，”他说，“但过几个星期我就要结婚了。同安·哈瑟维结婚。”

　　一听此言我张着嘴愣了好久。“结婚。同安·哈瑟维结婚？你是说肖特雷邻乡哈瑟维家的女儿？”

　　“没错，”威尔说。当时我在做鞋，威尔拿起桌上一支鞋，看看。

　　“当然，嗯，她是个好姑娘，”我同情地说道，“不过……不过，威尔，她已经26岁了，你才18岁呀！”

　　“我知道，”威尔说，“但是我非娶她不行。”

　　“哦，不可能这样吧！”我说，“你是说，她已经……”