When Adam delved, and Eve span,
Where was then the gentleman?
John Ball, 1381
Когда Адам пахал, а Ева пряла,
Владения где были феодала?1
Джон Болл, 1381
Shakespeare’s portrait
This Figure, that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut;
Wherein the Graver had a strife
With Nature, to out-do the life:
O, could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he hath hit
His face; the Print would then surpass
All, that was ever writ in brass.
But, since he cannot, Reader, look,
Not on his Picture, but his Book.
Ben Johnson (1574-1637)
(Written under Martin Droueshout's engraving in the first edition of the Plays)2
Портрету Шекспира
Фигура та, что видишь ты,
Шекспира обрела черты.
Гравер борьбу с природой вёл,
Но жизнь саму не превзошёл.
О, если б он заставил медь
Шекспира ум запечатлеть,
Подобно лику, – оттиск сей
Все б превзошёл ценой своей.
Смотри ж, читатель, вняв совету,
Не на портрет, а в книгу эту.
Бен Джонсон (1574-1637)3
On alchemists
If all you boast of your great art be true,
Sure willing poverty lies most in you.
Ben Johnson
На алхимиков
О, если правда всё, что вы творите,
То почему вы так бедны, скажите?
Бен Джонсон
To my Book
It will be look'd for, Book, when some but see
Thy title, Epigrams, and named of me,
Thou shouldst be bold, licentious, full of gall,
Wormwood, and sulphur, sharp, and tooth'd withal;
Become a petulent thing, hurl ink, and wit,
As madmen stones; not caring whom they hit.
Deceive their malice, who could wish it so;
And by thy wiser temper, let men know
Thou art not so covetous of least self-fame,
Made from the hazard of another's shame;
Much less, with lewd, profane, and beastly phrase,
To catch the world's loose laughter, or vain gaze.
He that departs with his own honesty
For vulgar praise, doth it too dearly buy.
Ben Johnson
Моей книге
Да будет, книга, чтим не только тот,