Курсовая работа: The place of “Macbeth” among Shakespeare’s tragedies

And that which should accompany old age,

As horror, love, abedience, troops of friends,

I must not look to have; but, in their stead,

Curses not loud but deep, month – honor, breath,

Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not

Макбет:

Я пожил на своем веку. Я дожил

До осени, до желтого листа

На то, что скрашивает нашу скорость –

На преданность, любовь и круг друзей, –

Не праве я рассчитывать. Проклятья

Прикрытые трусливой лестью, – вот

Что мне осталось до дыханы жизни. (стр. 552)

Макбет:

Ёш бошимга етар менинг, ё қойим қилар.

Давримниғку, сурдим. Фасли хазон бошланди.

Кеч кўзимни кўрдим ўзим очиқ кўз билан;

Аммо кексаликнинг гашти – ҳурмат – эътибор,

Содиқ дўстлар даврасидан умидим ҳам йўқ

Қўрқоқликнинг хушомадга ўралган лаънат,

Жон узилмай, нафас олмоқ – қолган насибам.

Шу ризқдан ҳам воз кечардим, журъатим етса! (V. 3. 128 б)

To say that no one who has become a bloody turant would speak in this way is pointless; he would feel in this way, or so we are convinced.

By feeling the paugs that we would feel if we were in his place, and by passing our judgements upon himself, Macbeth altaches as to him and consequently himself to us. We cannot view him with cold objectivity as something strange and apart. The unnaturalness of his acts is always counterpoised by the naturalness of his actions: his hesitant overtures to Banquo, his volubility after Duncan’s death, his dazed petulance at the appearance of the ghost.

The time has been

That, when the brains were out, the man woald die,

And there an end. But now they rise again,

With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,

And push us from our stools. This is more strange