“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” – Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene ii.

In Shakespeare’s England, roses were more than poetic symbols of love and beauty—they were political emblems, medicinal ingredients, culinary flavorings, and the foundation of a flourishing perfumery trade. From the red and white blooms of civil war to the distillation practices in early modern households, the rose occupied a central place in the sensory world of the 16th and 17th centuries.

This week, we’re speaking with historian Dr. Aysu Dincer, whose research uncovers the real-life role roses played in Shakespeare’s lifetime. From cultivation and trade to the recipes for perfumes and rosewaters that would have been familiar to Shakespeare’s contemporaries, Aysu joins us to share the historical backstory of this iconic flower and explore what it meant to smell sweet in the Elizabethan age.

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Linlithgow Palace, set between Edinburgh and Stirling, was one of the great royal residences of the Scottish crown. It was the birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots and a favored court for the Stuart monarchs long before the Union of the Crowns in 1603. When her son, James VI of Scotland, ascended the English throne as James I—the very monarch under whom William Shakespeare's company became the King's Men—the cultural and political world of Linlithgow directly fed into the world Shakespeare inhabited and wrote for. 

While Shakespeare likely never visited Linlithgow himself, the palace remained symbolically important in his lifetime. In fact, when part of the palace collapsed in 1607, a formal report was sent to James—now James I of England—detailing the damage and requesting royal attention. That connection between a crumbling Scottish stronghold and an English king who patronized Shakespeare makes for a compelling link between the palace and the playwright. 

Admittedly, exploring Linlithgow as part of Shakespeare’s world requires a slight chronological and geographical stretch—but it’s a leap well worth taking. The palace was a cultural and ceremonial stage for the Scottish monarchy, and its chapel in particular would have resonated with sacred music and royal spectacle that shaped the theatricality of early modern power on both sides of the border. 

Today’s guest, James Cook, is a scholar and musician who led a remarkable project to recreate the sound of choral music as it might have been heard at Linlithgow Palace in that very year—1512. Using a blend of historical research, vocal performance, and virtual reality technology, James and his team brought this long-lost acoustic experience back to life. 

In our conversation today, we’ll explore Linlithgow Palace itself—its significance in the lives of Mary Queen of Scots, James VI, and Anne of Denmark—and how music played a role in shaping royal image, religious devotion, and political theater. We’ll also talk with James about the recreation of the 1512 performance, how virtual reality is reshaping historical interpretation, and what it might have sounded like if you were a member of the royal household, listening to sacred music in that chapel over 500 years ago. 

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When Shakespeare wrote Othello, he set his Moorish general against the “general enemy Ottoman.” Elsewhere in his plays, he invoked “Turks,” “Saracens,” and “infidels”—terms that reveal just how present the Islamic world was in the English imagination. From Elizabeth I’s diplomatic exchanges with Persia to the cultural impact of the Ottoman Empire, the Islamic world loomed large in the politics, religion, and drama of Shakespeare’s England.

This week, we’re joined by Dr. Chloe Houston (University of Reading), a leading authority on Persia in early modern drama, and Dr. Mark Hutchings (University of Valladolid), whose research explores England’s engagement with Islam on the Renaissance stage. Together, they unpack how Elizabethans understood the Ottomans, Persians, and North Africans, and how those encounters shaped both history and Shakespeare’s works.

Discover how global trade, diplomacy, stereotypes, and real-life ambassadors influenced depictions of Moors, Persians, and “Turks” onstage, and why Shakespeare’s audiences would have found these references powerful, familiar, and sometimes unsettling.

Listen now and explore the fascinating world of Elizabethan encounters with Islam in Shakespeare’s plays.

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When Falstaff cries, “Let the sky rain potatoes” in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Shakespeare’s audience heard more than a vegetable—they heard novelty, superstition, and even scandal. In Elizabethan and Jacobean England, the potato was still a strange newcomer from the Americas, rumored to be an aphrodisiac, a medicine, and an oddity of the garden.

This week, historian and food scholar Rebecca Earle (University of Warwick), author of Feeding the People, joins us to explore the early history of potatoes in England. Together we trace how this humble tuber arrived on English soil, why it carried bawdy associations in Shakespeare’s plays, and what it meant for early modern diets, folklore, and global trade.

From Sir Walter Raleigh myths to potato pies at aristocratic tables, discover how Shakespeare’s world first encountered the vegetable that would one day feed nations.

Listen now and dig into the surprising story of potatoes in Shakespeare’s lifetime.

Show notes and extras: www.cassidycash.com/ep388

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For Shakespeare and his contemporaries, the line between history and myth was often delightfully blurred. Legends of King Arthur and the fabled Holy Grail captured the imaginations of 16th-century England, weaving their way into royal propaganda, courtly entertainments, and even the education of young scholars. Elizabeth I herself was likened to the Grail Maiden, and stories of sacred relics mingled with Renaissance curiosity and Protestant skepticism. 

While Shakespeare doesn’t mention the Grail directly in his plays, the ideas and imagery surrounding it would have been well known to his audiences. In a world shifting from medieval tradition to early modern innovation, what did the Holy Grail mean in Shakespeare’s England? 

To help us explore this fascinating blend of myth, politics, and early modern belief, we’re joined today by historian and author Sean Munger. 

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Shakespeare’s plays are rich with references to fashion and feathers. In All’s Well That Ends Well, he writes: “Faith, there’s a dozen of ’em, with delicate fine hats and most courteous feathers, which bow the head and nod at every man.” 

These plumed hats weren’t just theatrical flourishes—they were part of a broader story of global trade, Indigenous artistic labor, and the ways in which early modern England encountered and represented the wider world. 

This week, we’re exploring the fascinating intersection of featherwork, costume design, and Indigenous contributions to the English stage during Shakespeare’s lifetime. Our guest is John Kuhn, whose work on Inimitable Rarities investigates how feathers traveled across oceans to arrive on early modern stages—and what their presence can tell us about colonialism, artistic labor, and performance in Shakespeare’s England. 

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So complains one of Shakespeare’s characters in The Merry Wives of Windsor, voicing what was surely a common frustration in the 16th and 17th centuries. Fleas were an ever-present part of daily life—so much so that they appeared in poems, jokes, love songs, and even seven different times across Shakespeare’s plays. This week, we’re scratching the surface of these itchy invaders to explore what their presence reveals about hygiene, health, and humor in the early modern world. Our guest is 17th-century historian Andrea Zuvich, here to help us explore how people really managed fleas in Shakespeare’s lifetime.

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In Love’s Labour’s Lost, Berowne declares, “Let us dance and sport,” while in Twelfth Night, Sir Toby Belch exclaims, “Shall we set about some revels?” Shakespeare’s plays are filled with movement—more than 100 stage directions across his works call for a dance, making dance not merely entertainment, but a powerful form of expression in the early modern world. 

This week on That Shakespeare Life, we’re taking a closer look at what those dances might have looked like in real life. What was the significance of dancing in the 16th and early 17th centuries? What kinds of dances were popular? And how did they reflect the politics, courtship, and social hierarchies of the day? 

To help us explore the rhythm and meaning behind Shakespeare’s choreography is our guest, historian and dance scholar Emily Winerock. 

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When you picture a Shakespeare play, you likely imagine a continuous performance—scene following scene, act following act—until the final bow. But in Shakespeare’s lifetime, especially at indoor theatres like the Blackfriars, plays weren’t always presented without pause. Candlelight, used to illuminate the stage, had to be trimmed, replaced, or even relit during performances, which meant intentional gaps were built into the show itself. These intervals weren’t just practical; they were part of the theatrical experience—inviting music, moments of reflection, and a rhythm that modern audiences rarely consider. 

Today we’re diving into this largely overlooked aspect of early modern theatre: the interval. What did it look like? What happened during it? And how did it influence the pacing and experience of Shakespeare’s plays? 

To help us explore this topic, we’re delighted to welcome Mark Hutchings, whose latest research shines a spotlight on the physical and performative realities of candlelit stages, and their intervals, for the 16th and 17th centuries. 

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