Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm’d in jollity,
And purest unhapply forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled.
And art made tongue-tired by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall’d simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.
МОСКОВСКИЙ ГОРОДСКОЙ ЦЕНТР ОБРАЗОВАНИЯ
КАФЕДРА ЛИТЕРАТУРЫ
ТВОРЧЕСКАЯ РАБОТА
ПО ЛИТЕРАТУРЕ
НА ТЕМУ:
«Перевод. Искусство перевода и его проблемы»
Выполнила:
Ученица 8 «фил» класса
МГЦО
Вайсблат Ирина
Учитель:
Заболотнова
Ирина
Вячеславовна
МОСКВА - 2002