Сонеты Шекспира: Вдохновение реальностью. Историческая головоломка. Александр Скальв

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Сонет 83. Оригинальный текст

      I never saw that you did painting need,

      And therefore to your fair no painting set;

      I found (or thought I found) you did exceed

      The barren tender of a poet’s debt:

      And therefore have I slept in your report,

      That you yourself, being extant, well might show

      How far a modern quill doth come too short,

      Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.

      This silence for my sin you did impute,

      Which shall be most my glory, being dumb,

      For I impair not beauty, being mute,

      When others would give life, and bring a tomb.

      There lives more life in one of your fair eyes

      Than both your poets can in praise devise.

      Сонет 84. Оригинальный текст

      Who is it that says most which can say more

      Than this rich praise – that you alone are you,

      In whose confine immured is the store

      Which should example where your equal grew?

      Lean penury within that pen doth dwell

      That to his subject lends not some small glory,

      But he that writes of you, if he can tell

      That you are you, so dignifies his story:

      Let him but copy what in you is writ,

      Not making worse what nature made so clear,

      And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,

      Making his style admired every where.

      You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,

      Being fond of praise, which makes your praises worse.

      Сонет 85. Оригинальный текст

      My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,

      While comments of your praise, richly compiled,

      Reserve their character with golden quill

      And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.

      I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words,

      And like unlettered clerk still cry «Amen’

      To every hymn that every spirit affords

      In polished form of well-refined pen.

      Hearing you praised, I say, «Tis so, ’tis true’,

      And to the most of praise add something more;

      (But that is in my thought, whose love to you

      (Though words come hindmost) holds his rank before.

      Then others for the breath of words respect,

      Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.