Пересказ на английском "The immortal bard" 15 предложений

By Isaac Asimov

"Oh, yes," said Dr. Phineas Welch, "I can bring back the spirits of the illustrious dead."

He was a little drunk, or maybe he wouldnt have said it. Of course, it was perfectly all right to get a little drunk at the annual Christmas party.

Scott Robertson, the schools young English instructor, adjusted his glasses and looked to right and left to see if they were overheard. "Really, Dr. Welch."

"I mean it. And not just the spirits. I bring back the bodies, too."

"I wouldnt have said it were possible," said Robertson primly.

"Why not A simple matter of temporal transference."

"You mean time travel But thats quite-uh-unusual."

"Not if you know how."

"Well, how, Dr. Welch"

"Think Im going to tell you" asked the physicist gravely. He looked vaguely about for another drink and didnt find any. He said, "I brought quite a few back. Archimedes, Newton, Galileo. Poor fellows."

"Didnt they like it here I should think theyd have been fascinated by our modern science," said Robertson. He was beginning to enjoy the coversation.

"Oh, they were. They were. Especially Archimedes. I thought hed go mad with joy at first after I explained a little of it in some Greek Id boned up on, but no-no-"

"What was wrong"

"Just a different culture. They couldnt get used to our way of life. They got terribly lonely and frightened. I had to send them back."

"Thats too bad."

"Yes. Great minds, but not flexible minds. Not universal. So I tried Shakespeare."

"What" yelled Robertson. This was getting closer to home.

"Dont yell, my boy," said Welch. "Its bad manners."

"Did you say you brought back Shakespeare"

"I did. I needed someone with a universal mind; someone who knew people well enough to be able to live with them centuries way from his own time. Shakespeare was the man. Ive got his signature. As a memento, you know."

"On you" asked Robertson, eyes bugging.

"Right here." Welch fumbled in one vest pocket after another. "Ah, here it is."

A little piece of pasteboard was passed to the instructor. On one side it said: "L. Klein amp; Sons, Wholesale Hardware." On the other side, in straggly script, was written, "Willm Shakesper."

A wild surmise filled Robertson. "What did he look like"

"Not like his pictures. Bald and an ugly mustache. He spoke in a thick brogue. Of course, I did my best to please him with our times. I told him we thought highly of his plays and still put them on the boards. In fact, I said we thought they were the greatest pieces of literature in the English language, maybe in any language."

"Good. Good," said Robertson breathlessly.

"I said people had written volumes of commentaries on his plays. Naturally he wanted to see one and I got one for him from the library."

"And"

"Oh, he was fascinated. Of course, he had trouble with the current idioms and references to events since 1600, but I helped out. Poor fellow. I dont think he ever expected such treatment. He kept saying, God ha mercy! What cannot be racked from words in five centuries One could wring, methinks, a flood from a damp clout!"

"He wouldnt say that."

"Why not He wrote his plays as quickly as he could. He said he had to on account of the deadlines. He wrote Hamlet in less than six months. The plot was an old one. He just polished it up."

"Thats all they do to a telescope mirror. Just polish it up," said the English instructor indignantly.

The physicist disregarded him. He made out an untouched cocktail on the bar some feet away and sidled toward it. "I told the immortal bard that we even gave college courses in Shakespeare."

"I give one."

"I know. I enrolled him in your evening extension course. I never saw a man so eager to find out what posterity thought of him as poor Bill was. He worked hard at it."

"You enrolled William Shakespeare in my course" mumbled Robertson. Even as an alcholic fantasy, the thought staggered him. Andwas it an alcoholic fantasy He was beginning to recall a bald man with a queer way of talking....

"Not under his real name, of course," said Dr. Welch. "Never mind what he went under. It was a mistake, thats all. A big mistake. Poor fellow." He had the cocktail now and shook his head at it.

"Why was it a mistake What happened"

"I had to send him back to 1600," roared Welch indignantly. "How much humiliation do you think a man can stand"

"What humiliation are you talking about"

Dr. Welch tossed off the cocktail. "Why, you poor simpleton, you flunked him."

(здесь диалогом выбери сама что тебе больше нужно ,если надо переводить могу скинуть))