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( summing up of the material of the lessons of English literature, 10th form)

P1 The Renaissance did not take root in England until the1500’s, but for more than a century thereafter, that country enjoyed one of the most brilliant periods in its history. The crowning artistic achievement of the English Renaissance was its literature. The number of gifted writers, fired by enthusiasm for their own time, would do credit to any period. Towering above them all was William Shakespeare, supremely representative of his age yet unique in his own genius.

P2 The facts of William Shakespeare’s life that are known with certainty can be told in a few paragraphs. The poet-dramatist was baptized in the Church of the Holy Trinity at Stratford on April 26, 1564, and because baptism ordinarily took place within three days of birth, his actual birthdate is usually reported as April23. The next date on record is that of his marriage to Anne Hatheway, November 28, 1582, when William would have been eighteen. The baptismal dates of his three children follow. No other fact is known of his life up to 1592 when a rival playwright wrote an angry passage, proving that by then Shakespeare was well enough known in dramatic circles to attract jealousy.

P3 The next few years provide scattered facts: publication of certain poems in 1593 and 1594; death and burial of his only son in 1596; purchase of New Place, the largest house in Stratford, in 1597 – a fact that suggests how well he was prospering in the London theatre; finally the date of his death and burial in the chancel of Stratford Church – a fact that indicates respect he had achieved at home. Aside from his literary works, the principal document of his life that survives is his will, which leaves no doubt that he died a prosperous man.

P4 Shakespeare wrote 150 sonnets. When taken as a group, they tell a kind of story. The early ones express his strong feelings of regard for a nameless friend, who may have been Shakespeare’s benefactor. The sonnets of the later period suggest a rivalry between Shakespeare and his friend over a nameless lady. The latest sonnets in the series are addressed to a woman – the famous and mysterious «dark lady of the sonnets». Here are some of the most well-known of his sonnets.


My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun Ее глаза на звезды не похожи, Coral is far more red than her lips’ red; Нельзя уста кораллами назвать, If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; Не белонсежна плеч открытых кожа If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. И черной проволокой вьется прядь. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, С дамасской розой, алой или белой But no such roses see I in her cheeks; Нельзя сравнить оттенок этих щек. And in some perfumes is there more delight А тело пахнет так, как пахнет тело, Than in the breath that from me mistress reeks. Не как фиалки нежной лепесток. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know Ты не найдешь в ней совершенных That music hath a far more pleasing sound. линий, I grant I never saw a goddess go: Особенного света на челе, My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. Не знаю я как шествуют богини, And yet, by Heaven, I think my love as rare Но милая ступает по земле. As any she belied with false compare. И все ж она уступит тем, едва ли,

Кого в сравненьях пышных оболгали.


When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state

(Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.


Когда в раздоре миром и судьбой, Тогда, внезапно вспомнив о тебе,

Припомнив годы ,полные невзгод, Я малодушье жалкое кляну,

Тревожу я бесплодною мольбой И жаворонком, вопреки судьбе,

Глухой и равнодушный небосвод Моя душа несется в вышину.

И, жалуясь на горестный удел, С твоей любовью, c памятью о ней

Готов меняться жребием своим Всех королей на свете я сильней.

С тем, кто в искусстве больше преуспел,

Богат надеждой и людьми любим,-


Let me not to the marriage of true minds Мешать соединенью двух сердец

Admit impediments; love is not love Я не намерен. Может ли измена

Любви безмерной положить конец?

Which alters when it alteration finds, Любовь не знает убыли и тлена.

Любовь – над бурей поднятый маяк,

Or bends with the remover to remove. Не меркнущий во мраке и тумане.

О no, it is an ever-fixed mark Любовь – звезда, которою моряк

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; Определяет место в океане.

It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Любовьне кукла жалкая в руках

Whose worth's unknown, although his heighth be taken. У времени, стирающего розы

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks На пламенных устах и на щеках,

Within his bending sickle's compass come; И не страшны ей времени угрозы.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, А если я не прав и лжет мой стих,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom. То нет любвии нет стихов моих.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


When in the chronicle of wasted time Когда читаю в свитке мертвых лет

I see descriptions of the fairest Wights, О пламенных устах, давно безгласных,

And beauty making beautiful old rhyme О красоте, слагающей куплет

In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights Во славу рыцарей и дам прекрасных,

Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Столетьями хранимые черты -

Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, Глаза, улыбка, волосы и брови -

I see their antique pen would have expressed Мне говорят, что только в древнем слове

Even such a beauty as you master now. Могла всецело отразиться ты.

So all their praises are but prophecies В любой стране в своей прекрасной даме

Of this our time, all you prefiguring, Поэт мечтал тебя предугадать,

And, for they looked but with divining eyes Но всю тебя не мог он передать,

They had not skill enough your worth to sing: Впиваясь в даль влюбленными глазами.

For we, which now behold these present days, А нам, кому ты наконец близка,

Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. Где голос взять, чтобы звучал века?

* * *

Shakespeare wrote 37 plays – tragedies, comedies and historical chronicles. The

poetry of his plays is of two kinds: the lyrics or songs which help create a mood

and the often magnificent blank verse spoken by a character. His songs are noted

for their lively grace and delicate musical quality. The extraordinary power of his

unrhymed blank verse depends on internal musical devices, original or striking

metaphors. Perhaps better than any other English poet, Shakespeare writes lines

which are both natural and dignified, and also have great emotional impact.

Монолог Жака

«Весь мир - театр, а люди в нем актеры»

(Акт II, сцена VII)(As you like it)



All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.

At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;

And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school.

And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress' eyebrow.

Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth.

And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part.

The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound.

Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion;

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.



Весь мир - театр. В нем женщины, мужчины - все актеры.

У них свои есть выходы, уходы, И каждый не одну играет роль.

Семь действий в пьесе той. Сперва младенец, ревущий горько на руках у мамки...

Потом плаксивый школьник с книжной сумкой,

С лицом румяным, нехотя, улиткой

Ползущий в школу.

А затем любовник, Вздыхающий, как печь, с балладой грустной

В честь брови милой. А затем солдат, Чья речь всегда проклятьями полна,

Обросший бородой, как леопард,

Ревнивый к чести, забияка в ссоре,

Готовый славу бренную искать

Хоть в пушечном жерле.

Затем судья

С брюшком округлым, где каплун запрятан,

Со строгим взором, стриженой бородкой,

Шаблонных правил и сентенций кладезь, - Так он играет роль.

Шестой же возраст –

Уж это будет тощий Панталоне,

В очках, в туфлях, у пояса - кошель,

В штанах, что с юности берег, широких

Для ног иссохших; мужественный голос

Сменяется опять дискантом детским: Пищит, как флейта...

А последний акт, Конец всей этой странной, сложной пьесы –

Второе детство, полузабытье:

Без глаз, без чувств, без вкуса, без всего.


Mark Antony’s Speech from the Tragedy “ Julius Caesar ”

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones;

So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus

Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.

Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest -

For Brutus is an honourable man;

So are they all, all honourable men -

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.

He was my friend, faithful and just to me:

But Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

He hath brought many captives home to Rome

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And Brutus is an honourable man.

You all did see that on the Lupercal

I thrice presented him a kingly crown,

Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,

But here I am to speak what I do know.

You all did love him once, not without cause:

What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,

And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,

And I must pause till it come back to me.

Речь Марка Антония из Трагедии “ Юлий Цезарь”

Римляне, сограждане и друзья! Выслушайте, почему я поступил так, и молчите,

чтобы вам было слышно; верьте мне ради моей чести и положитесь на мою честь,

чтобы поверить; судите меня по своему разуменью и пробудите ваши чувства,

чтобы вы могли судить лучше. Если в этом собрании есть хоть один человек,

искренне любивший Цезаря, то я говорю ему: любовь Брута к Цезарю была не

меньше, чем его. И если этот друг спросит, почему Брут восстал против

Цезаря, то вот мой ответ: не потому, что я любил Цезаря меньше, но потому,

что я любил Рим больше. Что вы предпочли бы: чтоб Цезарь был жив, а вы

умерли рабами, или чтобы Цезарь был мертв и вы все жили свободными людьми?

Цезарь любил меня, и я его оплакиваю; он был удачлив, и я радовался этому;

за доблести я чтил его; но он был властолюбив, и я убил его. За его любовь -

слезы; за его удачи - радость; за его доблести - почет; за его властолюбие -

смерть. Кто здесь настолько низок, чтобы желать стать рабом? Если такой

найдется, пусть говорит, - я оскорбил его. Кто здесь настолько одичал, что

не хочет быть римлянином? Если такой найдется, пусть говорит, - я оскорбил

его. Кто здесь настолько гнусен, что не хочет любить свое отечество?

Если такой найдется, пусть говорит, - я оскорбил его. Я жду ответа.


Shakespeare “ A Madrigal” from “Pilgrim in Love”

(отрывок из «Влюбленного пилигрима»)

Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasance,
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn,
Age like winter weather,
Youth like summer brave,
Age like winter bare;
Youth is full of sport,
Age’s breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold,
Age is weak and cold, 
Youth is wild, and Age is tame
Age, I do abhor thee;
Youth, I do adore thee:
O, my Love, my Love is young!
Age, I do defy thee-
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay’st too long.

Сварливой старости и юности прелестной
Вдвоем не быть: стихии несовместны,
Тревоги и заботы старость гложут,
А юность удрученной быть не может.
И юность - утра летнего привет,
Цветенье лета, буйство красок лета,
А старость - это тусклый зимний свет,
Убогость оголенных зимних веток.
Резвится юность, вся - очарованье,
У старости короткое дыханье.
И молодость - огонь, мятеж, полет,
Как грациозны все ее движенья,
А старость, чуть жива, едва ползет
Без сил, без воли и без вдохновенья.
Ах, молодость, восторг мой и кумир мой,
Эй, старость, ужас ты невыносимый.
Презренной старости я вызов посылаю,
Моя любовь такая молодая!
Пастух любезный, поспеши немного,
Ты задержался здесь, пора в дорогу.

*Один из возможных переводов слова «мадригал» ; с провансальского mandre ; пастух.



Act 11

Scene11, Capulet’s Garden.

(Enter Romeo)

(Juliet appears above at the window)


It is my lady; O, it is my love!

See how she leaned her cheek upon her hand.

O that I were a glove upon that hand!

That I might touch that cheek.


Ah me!


She speaks!

O, speak again, bright angel! For you are

As glorious to this night, being o’ver my head,

As is a winged messenger of heaven.


O, Romeo, Romeo! Where are you Romeo?

Deny your father and refuse your name,

Oh, if you won’t, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.


Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this!


Tis but your name that is my enemy;-

You are yourself, though not a Montague.

What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O,be some other name!

What’s in a name? That which we call a would rose

By any other name would smell as sweet.

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title – Romeo doff your name,

And for that name, which is no part of you,

Take all myself.


I take you at your word:

Сall me but love, and I’ll be new baptized,

Henceforth I never will be Romeo.


What man are you that thus bescreen,d in night?


I know not how to tell you who I am:

My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,

Because it is an enemy to you,

Had I it written, I would tear the word.


My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words

Of that tongue utterance, yet I know the sound.

Are you not Romeo, and a Montague?


Neither, fair saint, if either you dislike.


How came you here, tell me, and wherefore?

The orchard walls are high and hard to climb;

And the place death, considering who you are,

If any of my kinsmen find you here.

If they do see you, they will murder you.


I have night’s cloak to hide me from their sight

And but you love me, let them find me here.


By whose direction did you find out this place?

Romeo. .

By love along.


You know the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek.

Do you love me? I know you’ll say” yes”

And I will take your word, if you will swear.


What shall I swear by?


O, not swear at all

Or if you will, swear by your gracious self

And I’ll believe you.


If my heart’s dear love…


Well, do not swear, although I joy in you,

I have no joy of this contract tonight;

It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;

Too like the lightning which cease to be.

Sweet, good night!

Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest

Come to your heart as that within my breast.


O, will you leave me so unsatisfied?


What satisfaction can you have tonight?


The exchange of your love’s faithful vow for mine.


I gave you mine before you did request it;

And yet I would it were to give again.


Would you withdraw it? For what purpose, love?


But to be frank and give it you again.

My love is deep; the more I give to you,

The more I have.

I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!

Sweet Montague, be true

Stay but a little, I’ll come again.


O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard

Being in night, all this is but a dream.

Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.


The word of the Bard can be found everywhere! His sayings and quotations from his plays and sonnets are often heard on TV and the radio on the daily basis. The advertising media love to make use of Shakespeare quotes. Famous authors have used his quotations as titles for their books. The lines from his plays have become widely spoken pearls of wisdom (“Fair Play”, “a dish fit for the gods”)The quotes from Shakespeare have now become household words and to emphasize the point “household word” is also one of the Bard’s quotations. Here are some of the most popular.

(The quotations are on the pieces of paper)

  1. Be great in act, as you have been in thought.

  2. Our bodies are our gardens to which our wills are gardeners.

  3. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.

  4. We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

  5. All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players.

  6. The game is up.

  7. I have not slept a wink.

  8. To be or not to be: that is the question.

  9. The rest is silence.

  10. Cowards die many times before their deaths.

  11. Words without thought never to heaven go.

  12. They do not love that do not show their love.

  13. The evil that men do lives after them.

  14. The course of true love never did run smooth.

  15. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

  16. Much ado about nothing.

  17. There’s small choice in rotten apples.

  18. What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

  19. How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.

  20. Delays have dangerous ends.

In one of his plays Shakespeare expressed his feelings towards Britain:

This royal throne of kings, this scept’red isle,

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demiparadise,

This fortress built by nature for herself

Against infection and the hand of war,

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall

Or as a moat defensive to a house

Against the envy of less happier lands;

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. . .



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