Yes, William Shakespeare got married. To Anne Hathaway. But before you picture a Hollywood Anne Hathaway in Elizabethan ruffles, hold up. This was Anne Hathaway of Shottery, a farmer’s daughter eight years his senior. She was 26; he was 18. In 1582, that age gap was eyebrow-raising, to say the least. Side note: imagine your high school senior self marrying someone who was basically your mom’s age by Tudor standards. Yikes.
The Speedy Wedding That Raised Eyebrows
The marriage license was issued in November 1582, and their first child, Susanna, was baptized in May 1583. Do the math: that’s barely six months. So, yeah, Anne was likely pregnant when they walked down the aisle. This wasn’t a scandalous secret—it was pretty common in rural England, but it does make you wonder: was this a love match, or a shotgun wedding? The church records show they had to get a special license from the Bishop of Worcester, because it was Advent season—a time when marriages were usually banned. Rushing much, Will?
The “Second Best Bed” Drama
Here’s where it gets juicy. Shakespeare spent most of his career in London, while Anne stayed in Stratford-upon-Avon with their kids. He mentioned Anne in his will—but only to leave her his “second best bed.” That line has fueled centuries of speculation. Was it a snub? A subtle insult? Or was it actually a tender gesture? In Tudor times, the best bed was usually reserved for guests. The second best bed was the marital bed—the one you actually slept in. So maybe, just maybe, it was a private, awkward way of saying, “Hey, I remember our nights together.” But honestly? It sounds like a cold move when you’re a millionaire playwright leaving almost everything else to your daughter and her husband. Oof.
What We Know (and What We Don’t)
We know the basics: they had three children—Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Hamnet died at age 11, which likely shattered Shakespeare. We have no evidence that Will and Anne were unhappy. But we also have no love letters, no cozy portraits, no “my darling wife” in his sonnets. The man wrote 154 sonnets—all of them to a mysterious “Fair Youth” and a “Dark Lady”—not a single one to his wife. That’s… telling. Historians argue whether he even lived with her after 1590. He bought a big house in Stratford called New Place, but he was mostly in London. Imagine your husband buying a mansion but crashing in a rental apartment for 20 years. You’d be side-eyeing him too.
The Curious Case of Anne’s Obituary
Anne died in 1623, seven years after William. Her epitaph? Nothing. Zero mention of being “wife of the great playwright.” Her grave is just a flat stone in Stratford church, completely unadorned. Compare that to the elaborate monument Shakespeare designed for himself, with his quill and all. It’s like she was an afterthought. But then again, maybe that’s how she wanted it—she was a private person in a gossipy town. Or maybe, just maybe, she was the one who wasn’t impressed by his fame. Queen of ignoring the hype.
27 November - William Shakespeare gets married - The Tudor Society
So, What’s the Verdict?
Did Shakespeare get married? Yes, and it’s one of history’s most documented yet opaque celebrity marriages. Anne Hathaway wasn’t just a footnote—she was the mother of his children, the keeper of his home, and the woman who outlived him by seven years. Their marriage was probably a mix of duty, affection, and separation—like many 16th-century unions. But the “second best bed” will always leave us guessing. Was it a brutal dig, or a private joke only they understood?
Here’s what I think: Shakespeare was a genius at creating mysteries. His life is no different. He married Anne, yes, but he also wrote plays full of couples who marry for convenience, then fall apart. If you ask me, he knew exactly what he was doing by leaving that bed. He wanted us to keep talking about him—even 400 years later. Sneaky, Bard. Real sneaky.
So next time someone at a party claims to be his descendant, just smile and ask, “Did you inherit the second best bed, or the best one?” Then watch them squirm. History is wild, isn’t it?
