The monologue of 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 flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. to die, to sleep: To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coi, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death,
Quite a popular play for classical artists to quote Famous lines Depends how one says it Quickly or pauses Loud or soft English or swahili Deep or high pitched!
@@distenglishЧеловек, читавший в этом видео стих, сыграл Златоуста Локонса из серии книг о Гарри Поттере. Он стал учителем ЗоТИ(Защиты от Темных Искусств) в Хогвартсе, когда Гарри был на втором курсе.
To be or not to be 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 flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect Айғаным: That makes calamity of so long life For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will Асет: And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. - Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd.
Английская манера чтения стихов это бредятина. Тухло, господа, тухло. Ни экспрессии ни эмоции. Толи дело русские стихи. Как разойдется душа душенька. Ииээх 😋
Так канал посвящён изучению АНГЛИЙСКОГО языка))) А русские стихи есть вот тут: 1) th-cam.com/users/maxblizzard88 2) vk.com/poetmaxwell 3) vk.com/stihiyno
Пусть и спустя 2 года, но я всё же отвечу Вам. этот монолог великолепен. Я не понимаю, как Вы не рассмотрелии эмоции. Нужно учесть, что Гамлет - очень сдержан, поэтому экспрессия просто нафиг не нужна. Хотите экспрессии - смотрите монолог Гамлета от Баширова. там экспрессия хлещет, а эмоций нет. Вот и выбирайте. Мне просто интересно, Вы не увидели дрожащий стилет?
Это мега круто. Разговор с отражением это находка.
Beautiful.
Это мне очень помогло. Спасибо!
Это было очень волнительно и достоверно
The monologue of 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 flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. to die, to sleep: To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coi, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death,
Быть или не быть , -, вот в чем вопрос , ❤🎉😮😊😊
Quite a popular play for classical artists to quote
Famous lines
Depends how one says it
Quickly or pauses
Loud or soft
English or swahili
Deep or high pitched!
Нам сказали это выучить….
Жиза
Злотопуст Локонс)
Что?)
Пустопуп Дженкинс
@@heyyou3133 что?)
@@distenglishЧеловек, читавший в этом видео стих, сыграл Златоуста Локонса из серии книг о Гарри Поттере. Он стал учителем ЗоТИ(Защиты от Темных Искусств) в Хогвартсе, когда Гарри был на втором курсе.
@@linamoon1591 ясно, спасибо за разъяснение))
To be or not to be
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 flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
Айғаным:
That makes calamity of so long life
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
Асет:
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
1:38
Английская манера чтения стихов это бредятина. Тухло, господа, тухло. Ни экспрессии ни эмоции. Толи дело русские стихи. Как разойдется душа душенька. Ииээх 😋
Так канал посвящён изучению АНГЛИЙСКОГО языка))) А русские стихи есть вот тут:
1) th-cam.com/users/maxblizzard88
2) vk.com/poetmaxwell
3) vk.com/stihiyno
Благодарю 😆 я просто констатировал факт.
)))))))))))
Пусть и спустя 2 года, но я всё же отвечу Вам. этот монолог великолепен. Я не понимаю, как Вы не рассмотрелии эмоции. Нужно учесть, что Гамлет - очень сдержан, поэтому экспрессия просто нафиг не нужна. Хотите экспрессии - смотрите монолог Гамлета от Баширова. там экспрессия хлещет, а эмоций нет. Вот и выбирайте.
Мне просто интересно, Вы не увидели дрожащий стилет?
О быкновенное безграмотное великорусское высокомерие с шовинистическим душком.