List some typical plots in "The Merchant of Venice"

The look of a mermaid

1

In Copenhagen Waterfront Park, the daughter of the sea, the mermaid has been sitting alone on the boulder rising out of the water for nearly a century. , and will continue to sit alone for years to come. She leaned half sideways, staring at the deep sea water, letting time pass by quietly. Although someone had taken advantage of the night to steal her small head, cut off one of her arms, painted her naked body in a bikini, dyed her hair blood red, and even painted her whole body It's dark, but her posture remains the same, never changing. No matter what kind of wind blows in the four seasons, no matter what kind of clouds float above her head, she is so persistent in letting her fishtail-shaped lower body cling to the boulder, maintaining the same posture, just like she is trying to get "a heart" "Immortal soul" would rather sacrifice his beautiful tongue and hand over his beautiful voice and become a mute unable to speak or sing; in order to stick to the love in his heart, he would rather sacrifice his life and turn into foam in the sea. Every day, tourists from all over the world unscrupulously touch her with their eyes and peep at her with cameras and video recorders; many people know that she is a character in Andersen's fairy tales, but few remember her dreams and her perseverance.

When I followed a group of tourists to the embankment where the mermaid was, I couldn't help but feel nervous and trembling in my heart. Looking at the petite brown body of the mermaid, I felt that she was definitely not just a lifeless bronze statue, but that she must contain an immortal, beating soul. In the poetic fairy tale, Andersen gave her, the little mermaid, a life with a noble spirit. I felt that this life was flowing in the copper body in front of me. In an extremely secular world, life has long become the last sacred thing; and the reverence for life is, to a certain extent, the reverence for divinity. However, the excited tourists pointed at this living bronze statue while holding up cameras and video recorders to take pictures. Some tourists even climbed onto the boulders to touch her cold skin and take a photo with her that was worth the trip. No one cared about how lonely she was, no one thought that she might need to face the sea, her home, quietly and alone. I don’t know how many tourists come here to watch her, just like watching a world-famous rare animal. They are just satisfied with the tourist mentality of "I have been here, I have seen it", but they do not know that doing so will affect her noble and lonely nature. What a blasphemy to the soul.

The autumn sea water is as blue as ink and as hard as ice, making the mermaid's figure even more lonely and gloomy. Standing on the embankment, it was difficult to really see her eyes turning towards the sea. In order to see her eyes clearly, I tried to jump to a small rock out of the water not far in front of her. However, I slipped and one foot fell into the cold water, and I only glimpsed her eyes for a brief moment. I quickly retreated to the embankment. Another tourist with the same mentality as me did not learn my lesson and jumped onto the rock. The result was even worse than me. His feet slipped and the sea water immediately covered his knees. Maybe she can't bear to let us remember her eyes forever! But what a pair of eyes full of melancholy and sadness! Heartbreakingly realistic. In "The Daughter of the Sea", Andersen said that as a mermaid on the bottom of the sea, she and her kind have no tears. In order to win the love of the prince and thus obtain an immortal soul, the youngest mermaid replaced the fish tail with legs that can walk like a human at any cost. As a result, he had to endure the pain of knife-like tearing all day long; when love She had no tears to shed when she became hopeless and her dreams came to nothing; she could not express her wishes and pain through words and songs because she had given her tongue and voice. Therefore, all the pain and sorrow, all the dreams and hopelessness can only be stored in her eyes forever, and in her turning figure.

Two

When the little mermaid was fifteen years old, her grandmother allowed her to float to the sea to see the human world.

Scripts and novels, poems and fairy tales are constantly born from his writing; he has dreamed of owning a magical castle of his own since he was a child, and now he has begun to use his works to build a colorful castle. In the country of literature, he himself has also changed from the "ugly duckling" who initially suffered from the cold eyes, contempt and reprimands of the world to a "white swan" soaring in the literary sky.

However, even though Andersen, who became a famous figure, got rid of his material embarrassment, he still lived a lonely bachelor life. He had fallen in love several times, but none of them were successful, and the trauma brought to him by each emotional impulse was unforgettable, just like the little mermaid deeply loved the prince, but never It's like getting the love of a prince. In Andersen's life, the love that had the deepest impact on him was when he fell in love with the opera singer Jenny Lind, known as the "Swedish Nightingale". He had many heart-to-heart conversations with Jenny Lind; for a period of time, regardless of his indecent appearance, he fell deeply in love with the northern nightingale; at that time, he felt that everything around him had Eclipsed, his heart was filled with Jenny Lind's face, figure and singing voice. However, Jenny Lind only extended a brother-sisterly hand to him, treating him simply and calmly, but never accepted his passionate love. He could only bury his feelings in his heart; in order to relieve his loneliness, he spent most of his time traveling abroad. During the journey, he licked the emotional scars alone, and then continued to brew and conceive, and finally sublimated them into beautiful works. In fact, all the women he has ever loved have eventually become beautiful, kind-hearted, and noble-spirited protagonists in his works, just like he described Jenny Lind as a girl with a singing voice like a clear spring in "The Nightingale" Like a beautiful and moving bird.

Three

On the Nyhavn side of Copenhagen, there is a very ordinary white four-story building squeezed between two large buildings. There is a bronze plaque between the first and second floors of the small building, indicating that Andersen lived on the third floor of this single apartment from 1846 to 1865. It is said that this is the only Andersen's former residence preserved in Copenhagen, but it is usually not open to the public. In front of the building was a canal wharf built in the 17th century. The busy scene with masts and masts at that time has long been deposited into historical memory; although there are still some sailboats berthed on the shore, they are only as part of the city's history and no longer play a shipping role. The scenery is there for tourists to enjoy. On October 11, 2004, I wandered here with admiration for Andersen. The door on the first floor of the small building was quietly locked, as if the owner had just left not long ago and traveled to a distant place. I stood on the shore of the pier and looked at this inconspicuous small building in imagination: the bustle of the pier in Andersen's era has gone away, just like the bustling scenery of many eras has disappeared, but his works are still circulating, and he created Those vivid fairy tale characters are still roaming in the hearts of people all over the world.

A short walk from Nyhavn Pier is the New Royal Palace of Denmark. The guards there wore towering black bearskin hats and military uniforms like those in operas, holding loaded rifles in their hands. They stood erect with concentration, as still as rocks. Back then, when Andersen strolled to the New Palace Square, he must have looked at these guards with awe and admiration many times. Later, he described the guards as a "staunch tin soldier." His tin soldier only had one leg because the maker did not have enough tin, but the tin soldier was determined and despite going through all kinds of difficulties and dangers, he still persisted in his undying love for the paper dancer in the paper-cut palace. In fact, many of Andersen's fairy tales are full of praise for the noble qualities of loyalty, kindness, perseverance, and even self-sacrifice like the tin soldier. Many years have passed, and I still remember the simple and poor woman he described in "Mother's Story". Death took away her only child; she braved the wind and snow to find her child in the dark night.

In order to ask for directions, she used her chest to warm a thorn bush that was about to freeze to death, so that the thorns would grow fresh green leaves; in order to cross a big lake, she kept crying and gave her bright eyes to the big lake. , making the lake greener; in order to enter the magical garden of death and save her child, she exchanged her beautiful black hair for snow-white silver hair with the old woman guarding the tomb. How can this kind of selfless and persevering soul that can dedicate everything for love not shock and admire people? The power it exudes stays hot throughout the years. I believe that when Andersen wrote this fairy tale, his lonely single life and his infinite nostalgia and attachment to his mother must have penetrated deeply into his heart, causing his imagination to burst out with infinite energy.

In his later years, Andersen loved walking on the streets of Copenhagen. At that time, he was already a world celebrity with a high reputation, and his beautiful and touching fairy tales had moved from the small kingdom of Denmark to the hearts of readers across Europe and other parts of the world. The scene where my ambition to become a poet was ridiculed has long since become a memory of the past. Whenever he walked in the streets of Copenhagen wearing a 19th-century top hat, a coat, and a cane, some pedestrians would greet him with reverence and watch him walk away.

On that afternoon in October 2004, I paid homage to the bronze statue of Andersen on the street side of Copenhagen City Hall. He is holding a cane in his left hand, holding a notebook in his right hand, wearing a top hat, and sitting on an ashlar seat; it looks like he is taking a short rest during a journey. His head turned to the upper left, his eyes full of hope and relief, looking at Tivoli Gardens across the street. The main entrance building of the park is like the magical castle in his fairy tales; the park was built in 1843. It was originally just a place for citizens to gather, dance, watch performances and listen to music. Nowadays, there are also buildings simulating the plots and characters in Andersen's fairy tales. Tour routes. Andersen, who has spent his whole life looking at the world of fairy tales, is really living next to the world of his dreams! The Danish imagination and the way they commemorate their outstanding poets is truly admirable.

In the square in front of the city hall, flocks of pigeons sometimes fly up and hover over the square, sometimes falling gracefully to peck at the birdseed scattered by passers-by or people staying in the square. There are a few white clouds floating in the blue sky, and the bright sunshine makes people very comfortable. I sat on a bench by the square, lit a cigarette, and prepared to enjoy this soothing scene. However, not long after, a ragged young black man came from a distance. At first, he didn't attract my special attention. But he suddenly took off one of his leather shoes and threw it at a group of pigeons that were pecking away only five or six meters away from me. A docile pigeon immediately fluttered its feathers, fluttered a few times, and stopped moving. The guy casually leaned over to pick up his shoes and the pigeons he had killed. I was stunned. Is he going to make doves his supper? Who could have imagined that such a tragedy would happen in the Town Hall Square? That pigeon must also find it hard to believe that this is its fate in broad daylight. On the bench next to me, there were two middle-aged women and a little girl of eight or nine years old. The brutal massacre that happened in front of her was so frightening that the girl burst into tears; the two adults blamed the black man and walked away with the little girl with a frightened face. In the heart of the Kingdom of Denmark, which is filled with a fairy tale atmosphere, such barbaric acts of desecration and destruction of life occurred. I think if Andersen, sitting next to the city hall, saw this scene, he would definitely feel extremely sad, sad and painful. , and even a look of hatred will surely overflow his eyes.

――March 22, 2007

neruda published in gt; 2007-3-24 11:00:48 [Full text] [Comments] [Quotes] [Recommendations] [ Archives] [Recommend to friends] [Collect to network excerpts]

2007-3-7

The brooding Prince Hamlet

neruda published in gt; 2007- 3-7 13:26:08 [Full text] [Comments] [Quotes] [Recommendations] [Archives] [Recommend to friends] [Collect to favorites]

2007-3-7

Pilgrimage to Shakespeare's hometown

(Please do not reprint without the author's permission!)

Pilgrimage to Shakespeare's hometown

In late March, villages and towns in England, although the sky There are still some floating clouds and mist, but the winter chill has long since escaped without a trace. The warm Atlantic wind blows from the west of the British Isles, covering the earth with lush green clothes; dotted with colorful and vibrant buds and flowers, they exude fragrant fragrance, making people feel warm and pleasant The season has arrived.

It was at this time that I came to the long-awaited hometown of Shakespeare, the small town of Stratford-upon-Evon, to pay homage to this literary master of the Renaissance and known as the "Emperor of Drama" Make a pilgrimage to the place where giants were born and lived.

The small town of Stratford is located between the British industrial city of Manchester and the university city of Oxford. It takes more than two hours by car from Manchester. The British call this small city "Shakespeare's World" because it has Shakespeare's former residence, Shakespeare Exhibition Center, Royal Shakespeare Theater, Shakespeare Society, Shakespeare Bookstore, the church where Shakespeare is buried, etc. It is said that the local population of this small town is only 60,000, but because of Shakespeare's great reputation, about two million tourists come here from all over the world every year to make a pilgrimage to this British giant during the European Renaissance.

Shakespeare’s former residence is located on Henry Street in the small town of Stratford. This is an ordinary two-story building with an attic, a typical sixteenth-century English style, with a wooden frame, a sloping tile roof, an earth-colored exterior wall, and protruding windows and door profiles. There is a wooden sign hanging on the side of the door of the extremely ordinary, even short former residence facing the street, with the words "William Shakespeare's Former Residence" in English on it. To the right of Shakespeare's former residence is a modern luxury building, which is the Shakespeare Exhibition Center. Visitors who come here first visit the exhibition center before entering the former residence of the literary giant. In the exhibition center, there is a huge portrait of Shakespeare. The dramatic poet's bright forehead and wise eyes make people awe-inspiring. The glass cabinets in the exhibition center display a large number of Shakespeare's manuscripts, pictures and letters, as well as a group of wax figures based on his dramatic characters. I paused briefly in front of the yellowed and precious manuscript with Shakespeare's ink, daydreaming about how this dramatic poet won the favor of the muse and wrote out immortal plots with a quill under the oil lamp four hundred years ago. The revengeful Prince Hamlet, the crazy King Lear, Romeo and Juliet who use death to celebrate youth and love, etc.

Out of the exhibition center is the backyard of Shakespeare's former residence, a small Elizabethan-style garden. Walking through the stone-paved path and through a small door on the right side of the gable of the former residence, I walked into the former residence where Shakespeare was born and grew up. I was immediately captured by a feeling of awe, as if the breath of the great man had traveled through the centuries. Hundreds of years later, it still pervades the surrounding area. The ground floor of the former residence contains the kitchen, living room, bedroom and the workshop where Shakespeare's father used to process wool and leather. All the equipment appears simple and plain, without any trace of luxury or extravagance. Go up the creaking stairs to the second floor, and the first thing you see is the master bedroom, which contains a double bed with red and green curtains and a wooden crib; on April 23, 1564, Shakespeare was here born. Next to the master bedroom is a small room with a small writing table placed against the wall. It is said that this is the place where Shakespeare studied and wrote before leaving his hometown to make a living in London.

On the other side of the master bedroom is a spacious exhibition room, which displays the genealogy table of Shakespeare's family, the handwriting written by Shakespeare at that time, and the suicide note he wrote before his death; there is also a square table with a large volume on it. Visitors from all over the world queue up to write their own messages or names on the signature book, expressing their sincere admiration for the great drama poet in this common but simple and touching way. I didn't want to avoid vulgarity, so I wrote on it in neat Chinese characters: "A son of a farmer from the far east came to worship across time and space." I signed my name and prayed in my heart, dreaming of paying homage to this person. The immortal king who has insight into human nature seeks some inspiration to enter the door of literature. I wandered around my former residence, admiring the relics left by the literary giant, and thinking about it: I once admired his standing statue as tall as his original body in the Poets Corner of Westminster Abbey in London, and also on the wall of Hamlet Castle in Denmark. Looking at his bust relief above, I think that Shakespeare, who was born in this small building that was not luxurious and magnificent, must not have thought that he would later become a great figure admired by the world.

The small garden in the backyard of Shakespeare’s former residence is planted with bluebells, violets, rosemary, marigolds and other flowers and plants, as well as several mulberry trees, walnuts, and a green pine with a giant umbrella-shaped crown. ——It is said that this pine tree was planted by Shakespeare himself. The lush little garden seems to symbolize Shakespeare's evergreen life. Standing next to the bust of Shakespeare in the corner of the garden, I stubbornly had an idea in my mind: Although this small garden is colorful, the literary world created by Shakespeare is even more colorful and all-encompassing. When I was in college, I read a sentence in an English book that has always been deeply engraved in my mind: Everything in human is in Shakespeare.

Across the street from Shakespeare's former residence, there is a Shakespeare Bookstore, which displays a dazzling array of various versions of Shakespeare's works, stills and albums of Shakespeare's plays from around the world, as well as photos of some famous Shakespearean actors. ,etc. Everyone who dreams of making some achievements in the literary world will not only admire and be excited but also involuntarily feel pressure from the classic masters, as if these classic masters are the gods on Mount Olympus in Greece. , a brilliant star in the sky of the human spirit, and you are just an insignificant mortal. Therefore, I did not dare to stay in this bookstore for too long and quickly exited.

Not far southeast along Henry Street, beside the quietly flowing River Evon, is the Royal Shakespeare Theater. The exterior wall of the theater is made of all brown bricks, and it looks like a solid castle from a distance. Diagonally behind the theater, across the Ewen River, is a towering church steeple. There is Holy Trinity Church, which is not only the place where Shakespeare was baptized after his birth, but also the last stop in his life and his real burial place. In his later years, the dramatic poet returned to his hometown from the London theater stage, where he had struggled for most of his life, and enjoyed a peaceful life for several years. Finally, on his birthday in 1616, he bid farewell to the troubled and dirty world. Shakespeare's grave is located on the solemn altar of Holy Trinity Church. There is a bust of Shakespeare in the niche above the cemetery, which is said to have been built shortly after his death. It vividly reproduces his appearance; his slightly protruding forehead seems to tell the world that there is indeed a vast world inside. talent and amazing creativity. There is also a flat stone tablet at the burial place of Shakespeare, with four lines of verses engraved on it, which are said to be Shakespeare's own epitaph written by his own hand:

Jesus is above, good friend, don't do anything,

Do not excavate the mound where the remains are buried.

Those who cherish the tombstones here will be blessed,

Those who move my remains will be cursed.

These lines of epitaphs did play a role. It is said that someone once wanted to dig out the poet's remains from here and move them to Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey, London, but this inscription blocked their efforts. action.

Therefore, to this day, the drama emperor has been sleeping here undisturbed, making people feel that this church on the banks of the Ewen River seems to be his exclusive sacred cemetery.

The River Evon, which once nurtured this great poet, flows slowly between Holy Trinity Church and the Royal Shakespeare Theatre; the sound of gurgling water never stops, as if whispering to the poet's immortal soul. A long elegy sung by Man. Both sides of the river are lined with green willows, and white geese and gray ducks float leisurely on the quiet, mirror-like water. When the famous British actor David Garrick roamed here in the 18th century, he once left a moving poem:

Silver Evon, you are flowing slowly,

By your river, Shakespeare often dreamed of immortal things;

By the moonlight, fairies danced around his green bed,

For the fragrance of his headrest The meadow is a sacred fertile ground.

In front of the Royal Shakespeare Theater, across the River Evon, there is a large garden called Bancraft. There are bronze statues of Shakespeare and famous characters from his plays. This king of humanity, who does not need a crown or scepter, is wearing a medieval robe, holding paper in his left hand and a pen in his right hand. He sits in an awe-inspiring posture on a chair on top of the monument surrounded by a bronze laurel wreath. Surrounding the monument are four representative characters he created: Prince Hamlet, who holds a skull in his hand and meditates on life and death; Lady Macbeth, who has a dark psychology and loves her husband deeply; Sir John Falstaff, and the energetic Prince Harry, holding his crown in both hands. I caressed these statues, feeling excited about suddenly being so close to these famous figures in the corridor of Shakespeare's drama, but also feeling ashamed of the rigid, narrow-minded, narcissistic and even arrogant British people. Shakespeare wrote thirty-nine plays in his life. Except for historical dramas, many of the other plays were created with exotic materials; but in this sun-drenched and vibrant garden, in this place overlooking the distant church spire, the surrounding Except for Prince Hamlet, who is from the northern country of Denmark, none of the other three characters in Shakespeare's statue is from the UK. However, I think the characters created by Shakespeare don't mind being turned into a few stiff statues, because they have already lived and will always live in the hearts of millions of people in the world.

Shakespeare’s hometown in spring is quiet, bright and pleasant. Wandering in the land where this literary giant once lived, my heart is filled with the complex feeling of time passing by and the presence of immortal things in the surrounding air and ruins. While I was thinking about the beautiful and picturesque countryside of Stratford in the 16th century, I was silently grateful to this holy land, because it was she who nurtured the world's never-ending Shakespeare.

March 1, 2007

neruda published in gt; 2007-3-7 13:21:35 [Full text] [Comments] [Quote] [Recommendation] [Archive] [Recommend to friends] [Collect to favorites]

2007-2-14

Hello, Old Shakespeare!

Portraits of Shakespeare at the Shakespeare Exhibition Center

neruda published on gt; 2007-2-14 17:01:00 [Full text] [Comments] [Quotes] [Recommendations] [Archives ] [Recommend to friends] [Collect to network excerpts]

2007-2-14

Inside the courtyard of Shakespeare's former residence

neruda Published in gt; 2007-2 -14 16:55:55 [Full text] [Comments] [Quotes] [Recommendations] [Archives] [Recommend to friends] [Collect to favorites]

2007-2-12

One person's Shakespeare

(Please do not reprint without the author's permission)

1.

March 2005, in the UK After attending the London Book Fair, I followed the visiting delegation to visit Shakespeare's hometown, the small town of Stratford-upon-Evon, with the mood of a pilgrim.

The British call this small city "Shakespeare's World" because it has Shakespeare's former residence, Shakespeare Exhibition Center, Royal Shakespeare Theater, Shakespeare Society, Shakespeare Bookstore, the church where Shakespeare is buried, etc. It is said that the local population of this small town is only 60,000, but because of Shakespeare's great reputation, about 4.8 million tourists from all over the world come here every year to make a pilgrimage to this British giant during the European Renaissance.

Walking into Shakespeare's former residence, a solemn and solemn mood will immediately capture you, as if the breath of the great man born here in 1564 has traveled through hundreds of years and still permeates the surroundings. This is an ordinary two-story building with an attic, a typical sixteenth-century English building, with a wooden frame, a sloping tile roof, an earth-colored exterior wall, and protruding windows and door profiles. There is a large autograph book on a square table on the second floor. Tourists from all over the world queue up to write their own messages on it to express their sincere admiration for the great poet. I wrote on it in neat Chinese characters: "A farmer's son from the far east came to worship across time and space." I prayed in my heart and dreamed of getting some inspiration from this king who had insight into human nature to enter the door of literature. The backyard of the small building is a small Elizabethan-style garden, planted with bluebells, violets, rosemary, marigolds and other flowers and plants, as well as several mulberry trees, walnuts, and a green pine with a giant umbrella-shaped crown - ―It is said that this pine tree was planted by Shakespeare himself. The lush little garden seems to symbolize Shakespeare's evergreen life. Standing next to the bust of Shakespeare in the corner of the garden, I stubbornly thought about this thought: Although this small garden is colorful, the literary world created by Shakespeare is even more colorful and all-encompassing. When I was in college, I read a sentence in an English book that has always been deeply engraved in my mind: Everything in human is in Shakespeare.

Not far from Shakespeare’s birthplace, next to the quietly flowing Evon River, is the Royal Shakespeare Theater, where Shakespeare’s classic plays are performed every year. Diagonally behind the theater, across the Evon River, is a towering church steeple, where Shakespeare's mausoleum is located. It is said that at the burial place of our drama emperor stands a flat stone tablet with four lines of poetry written by him himself:

Good friend, for the sake of Jesus, please don’t Do it,

Don't excavate the mounds where the remains are buried.

Take care of the tombstones here and you will be blessed.

Moving my remains will be cursed.

Perhaps it is the effect of these lines of poetry that the remains of this dramatic emperor have been sleeping here undisturbed, making future generations feel that this church is his only cemetery. The Evin River, which once nurtured this great poet, flows gurgling between the church and the theater. The banks of the river are lined with green willows, and white geese and gray ducks are swimming in the tranquility.