THE SCRIPT OF THE LITTERARY PARTY
Pupil 1: On the 23rd of April, 2014, the 450th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birthday is celebrated around the world. More has been written about the greatest English dramatist and a poet than about any other writer. And still many facts of his life are unknown to us.
Pupil 2: William Shakespeare was born on or about April, 23, 1564, in a town of Stratford-on-Avon. His father was a glover and a dealer in farm products. He was a respected figure in Stratford.
Pupil 1: In his childhood William went to the Stratford Grammar school where, besides reading and writing, he was taught Latin
Pupil 2: In 1582 when he was a little more than 18 Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway, a farmer’s daughter, who was 8 years older than him. In 1583 Susanna, his first child was born and then twins, Hamnet and Judith, followed in 1585. Later that year Shakespeare left for London.
Pupil 1: Shakespeare’s friend Toby told:
Pupil 3: One evening I walked into Shakespeare’s kitchen and saw Anne with red, angry face, shouting at the top of her voice.
“How can you do this to me? And what about children?” Then she saw me and stopped.
Will was sitting at the table and looked pleased to see me.
“I’ve told Anne,” he said quietly, “that I’m going to live in London. I want to be an actor and to write plays if I can.”
“Plays!” screamed Anne. “Acting! Actors are dirty, wicked people! They are all thieves and criminals! They drink all day and they never go to church…”
“Don’t be stupid, Anne. You know that’s not true. Listen. I’ll come home when I can but I must go to London. I can’t do anything in Stratford.” He looked at me across the room.
“Are you coming with me, Toby?”
“How soon shall we start?” I asked.
Pupil 2: At this time his first poems appeared. Writing poems was very common in Shakespeare’s days. It was called sonnetising.
Pupil 1: Shakespeare was quick to follow this popular trend. Most likely he began to write them in 1590.
Pupil 2: His 154 sonnets were published in 1609. The personages that appear in the sonnets are the Poet, his friend, and “the Dark Lady”. The meaning of the sonnets is relative.
Pupil 4: Sonnet 130
My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun,
Coral is far more red than her lips red.
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun,
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white.
But no such roses see I in her cheeks.
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound
I grant I never saw a goddess go
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Ее глаза на звезды не похожи,
Нельзя уста кораллами назвать,
Не белоснежна плеч открытых кожа,
И черной проволокой вьется прядь.
С дамасской розой, алой или белой,
Нельзя сравнить оттенок этих щек.
А тело пахнет так, как пахнет тело,
Не как фиалки нежный лепесток.
Ты не найдешь в ней совершенных линий,
Особенного света на челе.
Не знаю я, как шествуют богини,
Но милая ступает по земле.
И все ж она уступит тем едва ли,
Кого в сравненьях пышных оболгали.
Pupil 6: Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee with a summer day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed:
By thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand’rest in the shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Сравню ли с летним днем твои черты?
Но ты милей, умеренней и краше.
Ломает буря майские цветы,
И так недолговечно лето наше!
То нам слепит глаза небесный глаз,
То светлый лик скрывает непогода.
Ласкает, нежит и терзает нас
Своей случайной прихотью природа.
А у тебя не убывает день,
Не увядает солнечное лето.
И смертная тебя не скроет тень -
Ты будешь вечно жить в строках поэта.
Среди живых ты будешь до тех пор,
Доколе дышит грудь и видит взор.
Pupil 8: Sonnet 145
Those lips that Love’s own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said “I hate”
To me that languish’d for her sake;
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet:
“I hate” she altered with an end,
That followe’d it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away:
“I hate” from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying “not you”.
Я ненавижу, - вот слова,
Что с милых уст ее на днях
Сорвались в гневе. Но едва
Она приметила мой страх, -
Как придержала язычок,
Который мне до этих пор
Шептал то ласку, то упрек,
А не жестокий приговор.
"Я ненавижу", - присмирев,
Уста промолвили, а взгляд
Уже сменил на милость гнев,
И ночь с небес умчалась в ад.
"Я ненавижу", - но тотчас
Она добавила: "Не вас!"
Pupil 10: Sonnet 90
Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now
Now while the world is bend my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of Fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss.
Ah do not, when my heart has scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give me a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come; so shall I taste
At first the very worst of Fortune’s might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.
Уж если ты разлюбишь - так теперь,
Теперь, когда весь мир со мной в раздоре.
Будь самой горькой из моих потерь,
Но только не последней каплей горя!
И если скорбь дано мне превозмочь,
Не наноси удара из засады.
Пусть бурная не разрешится ночь
Дождливым утром - утром без отрады.
Оставь меня, но не в последний миг,
Когда от мелких бед я ослабею.
Оставь сейчас, чтоб сразу я постиг,
Что это горе всех невзгод больнее,
Что нет невзгод, а есть одна беда -
Твоей любви лишиться навсегда.
Pupil 12: Sonnet 102
My love is strength’ned, though more weak is seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear:
That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming
The owner’s tongue doth publish every where.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays
As Philomel in summer’s front dot sing,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper days;
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Then when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight,
Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue,
Because I would not dull you with my song.
Люблю, - но реже говорю об этом,
Люблю нежней, - но не для многих глаз.
Торгует чувством тот, что перед светом
Всю душу выставляет напоказ.
Тебя встречал я песней, как приветом,
Когда любовь нова была для нас.
Так соловей гремит в полночный час
Весной, но флейту забывает летом.
Ночь не лишится прелести своей,
Когда его умолкнут излиянья.
Но музыка, звуча со всех ветвей,
Обычной став, теряет обаянье.
И я умолк подобно соловью:
Свое пропел и больше не пою.
Pupil 14: Sonnet 88
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I’ll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn:
With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults concealed wherein I am attainted,
That thou in losing me shall with much glory;
And I by this will be a gainer too,
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double vantage me.
Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for my right myself will bear all wrong.
Когда захочешь, охладев ко мне,
Предать меня насмешке и презренью
Я на твоей останусь стороне
И честь твою не опорочу тенью.
Отлично зная каждый свой порок,
Я рассказать могу такую новость,
Что навсегда сниму с себя упрек,
Запятнанную оправдаю совесть.
И буду благодарен я судьбе,-
Пускай в борьбе терплю я неудачу,
Но честь победы приношу тебе
И дважды обретаю все, что трачу.
Готов я жертвой стать неправоты
Чтоб только правой оказалась ты.
Pupil 1: In London Shakespeare joined one of the city theatre companies and in 1594 he became closely connected to the company of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men which first occupied a playhouse called “The Theatre” and then built the famous Globe Theatre and held their performances there.
Pupil 2: By 1594 at least six of his pays had been produced and staged. His fame and good fortune grew rapidly.
Pupil 1: From 1594 to 1608 Shakespeare was fully involved in the London theatre life. He wrote in average 2 plays a year.
Pupil 2: Shakespeare wrote 37 plays.
Pupil 1: The tragedies “Romeo and Juliet” and “Hamlet” stand apart from the other tragedies. The problem raised in them still produce a powerful impression on our emotions and on our intellect.
Act III Scene 5
“Romeo and Juliet”
(Enter Romeo and Juliet)
Juliet: Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day
It was the nightingale, and not the lark
That pierc’d the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly she sings on you pomegranate tree:
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.
Romeo: It was the lark, the herald of the morn,
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in younder east:
Night’s candles are burnt out and jocund day.
Stands tiptoe on the mountain misty tops
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
Juliet: Yon light is not daylight, I know it,
It is rome meteor that the sun exhales,
To be to tee this night a torch-bearer,
And light thee on the way to Mantua
Therefore stay yet; thou need’nt not to be gone.
Romeo: Let me be tain, let me be put to death,
I’m content, so thou will have it so.
I’ll say youn grey is not the morning’s eye.
Lis but the pale reflex of Cyrthia’s brow;
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads;
I have more care to stay than will to go:
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so.
How is’t my soul let’s talk; it is not day.
Juliet: It is, it is: hie hence, be gone away!
It is the lack that signs so out of tune
Straining learsh discords and uppleasing sharps
Some say the lark makes sweet division;
This doth not so, for the divideth us;
Some say the lark and loatheth toad change eyes;
O! now I would they had changed voices too
Since arm from arm that voice doth usuffrcey,
Hunting thee lunce with hunts-up to the day.
O! now be gone, more light and light it grows.
Romeo: More light and light; more dark and dark out woes.
Nurse: Your lady mother is coming to your chamber;
The day is broke; be wary, look about.
Juliet: Then, window; let day in, and let life out.
Romeo: Farewell, farewell one kiss, and I’ll descend.
Juliet: Art thou gone so? my lord, my love, my friend
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,
For in a minute there are many days;
O! by this count I shall be much in years
Are I again behold my Romeo.
I will omit no opportunity
That may convey my greetings, love to thee.
Juliet: O! Think’st thou we shall ever meet again.
Romeo: I doubt is not; and all these woes shall serve
For sweet discourses in our time to come.
Juliet: O God! I have an ill-diving soul:
Meetinks I see thee, now thou art so lo low;
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb;
Either ny eyeslight fails, or thou look’st pale.
Romeo: And trust me, love in my eye so do you:
Dry sorrow drinks our blood.
Juliet: O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him
That is renown’d for faith? Be fickle, fortune.
For them, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long
But sent him back.
Pupil 16: Poems from “Hamlet”
To be or not to be: that is the question.
Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flash in heir to, ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep:
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams nay come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long live…
Pupil 2: Shakespeare lived in London for 25 years. Each year he came to Stratford for a short time to visit his family.
Pupil 1: In 1597 he bought the largest house in Stratford and in 1612 he retired there to spend the last years of his life in his native town.
Pupil 2: William Shakespeare died on the 23 of April, 1616, exactly 52 years after his supposed day of birth.
Pupil 1: His tomb is in the Stratford Church. Four lines inscribed on it are said to have been written by himself.
Pupil 2: Good friend for Jesus’ sake forbear
To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blessed be he that spares these stones,
And cursed be he that moves my bones.
Pupil 1: These lines prevented the removal of his remains to Westminster Abbey; only a monument to his memory was erected in the Poet’s Corner.
Pupil 2: Shakespeare’s works are admired by the greatest minds of the world and all people in general.
Words of wisdom by Shakespeare
Pupil 1: Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear.
Pupil 2: He that sleeps feels not a toothache.
Pupil 3: Brevity is the soul of wit.
Pupil 4: There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
Pupil 5: My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Pupil 6: I must be cruel only to be kind.
Pupil 7: Lord! We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
Pupil 8: When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
Pupil 9: Men of few words are the best men.
Pupil 10: How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.
Pupil 11: False face must hide what the false heart oth know.
Pupil 12: The attempt and not the deed, confounds us.
Pupil 13: By indirections find directions out.
Pupil 14: The nature of bad news infects the teller.
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