Kuligin’s monologue “Cruel morals, sir, in our city! Monologue of Kuligin from the play “The Thunderstorm” by Ostrovsky: monologue “Cruel morals, sir...” (text) The Thunderstorm monologue of Kuligin cruel morals

Kuligin's monologue

Cruel morals, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and stark poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, tries to enslave the poor so that his labors will be free more money make money Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered to the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disrespect any of them. The mayor began to tell him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, pay the men well! Every day they come to me with complaints!” Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder and said: “Is it worth it, your honor, for us to talk about such trifles! I have a lot of people every year; You understand: I won’t pay them a penny per person, but I make thousands out of this, so that’s good for me!” That's it, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! They undermine each other's trade, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get drunken clerks into their high mansions, such, sir, clerks that there is no human appearance on him, his human appearance is hysterical. And they, for small acts of kindness, scribble malicious slander against their neighbors on stamped sheets. And for them, sir, a trial and a case will begin, and there will be no end to the torment. They sue and sue here, but they go to the province, and there they are waiting for them and splashing their hands with joy. Soon the fairy tale is told, but not soon the deed is done; they drive them, they drive them, they drag them, they drag them; and they are also happy about this dragging, that’s all they need. “I’ll spend it, he says, and it won’t cost him a penny.” I wanted to depict all this in poetry...

This is the kind of town we have, sir! They made the boulevard, but they don’t walk. They only go out on holidays, and then they only pretend to be out for a walk, but they themselves go there to show off their outfits. The only thing you will see is a drunken clerk, trudged home from the tavern. The poor, sir, have no time to walk, they are busy day and night. And they sleep only three hours a day. What do the rich do? Well, so that, it seems, they don’t walk, don’t breathe fresh air? So no. Everyone's gates, sir, have long been locked and the dogs have been let loose. Do you think they are doing something, or are they praying to God? No, sir! And they don’t lock themselves away from thieves, but so that people don’t see them eating their own family and tyrannizing their family. And what tears flow behind these constipations, invisible and inaudible! What can I tell you, sir! You can judge for yourself. And what, sir, behind these castles is dark debauchery and drunkenness! And everything is sewn and covered - no one sees or knows anything, only God sees! You, he says, look at me in people and on the street; but you don’t care about my family; for this, he says, I have locks, and constipations, and angry dogs. The family says it’s a secret, secret matter! We know these secrets! Because of these secrets, sir, only he is having fun, and the rest are howling like a wolf. And what's the secret? Who doesn't know him! Rob orphans, relatives, nephews, beat up his family so that they don’t dare say a word about anything he does there. That's the whole secret. Well, God bless them! Do you know, sir, who is hanging out with us? Young boys and girls. So these people steal an hour or two from sleep, and then walk in pairs. Yes, here's a couple!

Popular monologue of Katerina from Ostrovsky's work "The Thunderstorm"

Why don't people fly?
I speak, why people don't fly like birds? Sometimes I feel like I'm a bird. When you stand on a mountain, you feel the urge to fly! That’s how I would run away, raise my arms and fly... Is there something I could try now?!... And how frisky I was! Was that what I was like? I lived, didn’t worry about anything, like a bird in the wild. Mama doted on me, dressed me up like a doll, and didn’t force me to work; I used to do whatever I want. Do you know how I lived with girls? I used to get up early; If it’s summer, I’ll go to the spring, wash myself, bring some water with me and that’s it, I’ll water all the flowers in the house. I had many, many flowers. And what dreams I had, what dreams! Either the temples are golden, or the gardens are some kind of extraordinary, and everyone is singing invisible voices, and there is a smell of cypress, and the mountains and trees seem not to be the same as usual, but as if depicted in images. And it’s as if I’m flying, and I’m flying through the air. And now sometimes I dream, but rarely, and not even that... Oh, something bad is happening to me, some kind of miracle! This has never happened to me. There is something so unusual about me. I’m starting to live again, or... I don’t know. Such fear comes over me, such and such fear comes over me! It’s as if I’m standing over an abyss and someone is pushing me there, but I have nothing to hold on to... Some kind of dream creeps into my head. And I won’t leave her anywhere. If I start to think, I won’t be able to gather my thoughts; I’ll pray, but I won’t be able to pray. I babble words with my tongue, but in my mind it’s not at all like that: it’s as if the evil one is whispering in my ears, but everything about such things is bad. And then it seems to me that I will feel ashamed of myself. What happened with me? I can’t sleep, I keep imagining some kind of whisper: someone is talking to me so affectionately, like a dove cooing. I no longer dream, as before, of heavenly trees and mountains, but as if someone is hugging me so warmly and warmly and leading me somewhere, and I follow him, I go...

Marfa Ignatievna Kabanova is God's dandelion. This is how she associates herself in the city of Kalinov. Is it so?

Prude, sir! He gives money to the poor, but completely eats up his family.

Dumb, ignorant, she surrounds herself with the same obscurantists as herself. Hiding despotism under the guise of piety, Kabanikha brings her family to the point that Tikhon does not dare to contradict her in anything. Varvara learned to lie, hide and dodge. With her tyranny, she brought Katerina to death. Varvara, Kabanikha’s daughter, runs away from home, and Tikhon regrets that he did not die with his wife.

Kabanikha’s faith in God and principles are combined with amazing severity and mercilessness: she sharpens her son like rusty iron, because he loves his wife more than his mother, that he supposedly wants to live according to his own will. The severity of Kabanikha’s character is even more strongly expressed in her relationship with her daughter-in-law: she sharply and venomously cuts her off at every word, and with malicious irony condemns her for her affectionate treatment of her husband, whom, in her opinion, she should not love, but fear. Kabanikha’s heartlessness reaches a terrifying degree when Katerina confesses to her wrongdoing: she angrily rejoices at this event: “there is no point in pitying such a wife, she must be buried alive in the ground...”

Kabanikha, with her cunning, hypocrisy, cold, implacable cruelty and thirst for power, is truly terrifying - she is the most sinister figure in the city. Dikoy strives to rudely assert his power, while Kabanikha calmly asserts herself, guarding everything old and passing away.

Cruel, sir, morals in our city

Quote from the play by A.N. Ostrovsky. "Storm". These words are pronounced by Kuligin (act. 1, appearance 3).

“Boris. Eh, Kuligin, it’s painfully difficult for me here, without a habit. Everyone looks at me somehow wildly, as if I’m superfluous here, as if I’m disturbing them. I don’t know the customs here. I understand that all this is our Russian, dear, but I still can’t get used to it.

Kuligin. And you will never get used to it, sir.

Boris. From what?

Kuligin. Cruel morals, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and stark poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust!

Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, tries to enslave the poor so that he can make even more money from his free labors.

Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered to the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disrespect any of them. The mayor began to say to him:

“Listen,” he says, “Savel Prokofich, pay the men well! They come to me with complaints every day!”

Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder and said: “Is it worth it, your honor, for us to talk about such trifles! I have a lot of people every year; you understand: I won’t pay them a penny extra per person.” , I make thousands from this, so it’s good for me!”

That's it, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! They undermine each other's trade, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get drunken clerks into their high mansions, such, sir, clerks that there is no human appearance on them, the human appearance is lost.

And for small acts of kindness they scribble malicious slander against their neighbors on stamped sheets. And for them, sir, a trial and a case will begin, and there will be no end to the torment. They sue, sue here and go to the province, and there they are expected and splash their hands with joy. Soon the fairy tale is told, but not soon the deed is done; They lead them, they lead them, they drag them, they drag them, and they are also happy about this dragging, that’s all they need.

“I’ll spend it,” he says, “and it won’t cost him a penny.” I wanted to depict all this in poetry..."

A ray of light in a dark kingdom

Quote from the article “A Ray of Light in the Dark Kingdom” by publicist Nikolai Aleksandrovich Dobrolyubov (1860), dedicated to the drama of A.N. Ostrovsky. "Thunderstorm" (1859)

In the article main character In the play, Katerina, who committed suicide, was compared to a “ray of light” in the “dark kingdom” of ignorant tyrant merchants.

One loves watermelon, the other loves pork cartilage

Quote from Alexander Nikolaevich Ostrovsky's play "Dowry" (1878), words by Paratov:

Paratov. From the beautiful places here?

Karandyshev. What do you find beautiful here?

Paratov. After all, it’s like anyone; There is no sample for taste or color.

Ogudalova. True true. Some people like the city, others like the countryside.

Paratov. Auntie, everyone has their own taste: one likes watermelon, another likes pork cartilage.

Ogudalova. Ah, the prankster! How do you know so many proverbs?

Paratov. You hang out with barge haulers, auntie, so you’ll learn the Russian language.

Apparently this phrase was known before Ostrovsky wrote the play "Dowry".

For example, Mikhail Evgrafovich Saltykov-Shchedrin in “Abroad”, 3 writes: “The idea of a commission is inevitably associated with the idea of wrangling. One likes a watermelon, another likes pork cartilage.”

Kuligin. This is the kind of town we have, sir! They made the boulevard, but they don’t walk. They only go out on holidays, and then they only pretend to be out for a walk, but they themselves go there to show off their outfits. The only thing you will see is a drunken clerk, trudged home from the tavern. The poor, sir, have no time to walk, they work day and night. And they sleep only three hours a day. What do the rich do? Well, why don’t they, it seems, go for walks and breathe fresh air? So no. Everyone's gates, sir, have been locked for a long time, and the dogs have been let loose... Do you think they are doing business or praying to God? No, sir. And they don’t lock themselves away from thieves, but so that people don’t see them eating their own family and tyrannizing their family. And what tears flow behind these constipations, invisible and inaudible! What can I tell you, sir! You can judge for yourself. And what, sir, behind these castles is dark debauchery and drunkenness! And everything is sewn and covered - no one sees or knows anything, only God sees! You, he says, look, I’m among people and on the street, but you don’t care about my family; for this, he says, I have locks, and constipations, and angry dogs. The family says it’s a secret, secret matter! We know these secrets! Because of these secrets, sir, only he is having fun, while the rest are howling like a wolf. And what's the secret? Who doesn't know him! Rob orphans, relatives, nephews, beat up his family so that they don’t dare make a squeak about anything he does there. That's the whole secret. Well, God bless them! Do you know, sir, who is hanging out with us? Young boys and girls. So these people steal from sleep for an hour or two, and then walk in pairs. Yes, here's a couple!

A. N. Ostrovsky. Storm. Play. Episode 1

(Ostrovsky “The Thunderstorm”, act 3, scene 1, phenomenon 3. See on our website a summary of “The Thunderstorm”, its full text and an analysis of this play made by the great Russian writer

Kuligin. Cruel morals, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and stark poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, tries to enslave the poor so that he can make even more money from his free labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered to the mayor? The peasants came to the mayor to complain that he would not disrespect any of them. The mayor began to tell him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, pay the men well! Every day they come to me with complaints!” Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder and said: “Is it worth it, your honor, for us to talk about such trifles! I have a lot of people every year; You understand: I won’t pay them a penny per person, but I make thousands out of this, so that’s good for me!” That's it, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! They undermine each other's trade, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get drunken clerks into their high mansions, such, sir, clerks that there is no human appearance on him, his human appearance is hysterical. And they, for small acts of kindness, scribble malicious slander against their neighbors on stamped sheets. And for them, sir, a trial and a case will begin, and there will be no end to the torment. They sue and sue here, but they go to the province, and there they are waiting for them and splashing their hands with joy. Soon the fairy tale is told, but not soon the deed is done; they drive them, they drive them, they drag them, they drag them; and they are also happy about this dragging, that’s all they need. “I’ll spend it, he says, and it won’t cost him a penny.” I wanted to depict all this in poetry...

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The play "The Thunderstorm"

Kuligin's monologues 1

Cruel morals, sir, in our city, cruel! In philistinism, sir, you will see nothing but rudeness and stark poverty. And we, sir, will never get out of this crust! Because honest work will never earn us more than our daily bread. And whoever has money, sir, tries to enslave the poor so that he can make even more money from his free labors. Do you know what your uncle, Savel Prokofich, answered to the mayor? The men came to the mayor to complain that he would not disrespect any of them. The mayor began to tell him: “Listen, he says, Savel Prokofich, pay the men well! Every day they come to me with complaints!” Your uncle patted the mayor on the shoulder and said: “Is it worth it, your honor, for us to talk about such trifles! I have a lot of people every year; You understand: I won’t pay them even a penny per person, but I make thousands out of this, so it’s good for me!” That's it, sir! And among themselves, sir, how they live! They undermine each other's trade, and not so much out of self-interest as out of envy. They are at enmity with each other; they get drunken clerks into their high mansions, such, sir, clerks that there is no human appearance on him, his human appearance is hysterical. And they, for small acts of kindness, scribble malicious slander against their neighbors on stamped sheets. And for them, sir, a trial and a case will begin, and there will be no end to the torment. They sue and sue here, but they go to the province, and there they are waiting for them and splashing their hands with joy. Soon the tale is told, but not soon the deed is done: they are led, led, dragged, dragged; and they are also happy about this dragging, that’s all they need. “I’ll spend it, he says, and it won’t cost him a penny.” I wanted to depict all this in poetry...

Answer the questions in writing using a line from the given text. Learn close to the text. Questions: 1. What could you earn by honest work? 2. How did rich merchants make money? 3. What does Dikoy confess to the mayor without embarrassment? 4. What do drunken clerks do when a merchant takes them into his mansion?

Monologue 2

Kuligin: That’s what a little town we have, sir! They made the boulevard, but they don’t walk. They only go out on holidays, and then they only pretend to be out for a walk, but they themselves go there to show off their outfits. The only thing you will see is a drunken clerk, trudged home from the tavern. The poor, sir, have no time to walk, they work day and night. And they sleep only three hours a day, but what do the rich do? Well, why don’t they, it seems, go for walks and breathe fresh air? So no. Everyone has had their gates for a long time, sir, the bans and the dogs have been let loose. Do you think they are doing something or praying to God? No, sir. And they don’t lock themselves away from thieves, but so that people don’t see them eating their own family and tyrannizing their family. And what tears flow behind these constipations, invisible and inaudible! What can I tell you, sir! You can judge for yourself. And what, sir, behind these castles is dark debauchery and drunkenness! And everything is sewn and covered - no one sees or knows anything, only God sees! You, he says, look at me in people and on the street, but you don’t care about my family; for this, he says, I have locks, and constipations, and angry dogs. The family says it’s a secret, secret matter! We know these secrets! Because of these secrets, sir, only he is having fun, and the rest are howling like a wolf. And what's the secret? Who doesn't know him! Rob orphans, relatives, nephews, kill his family so that they don’t dare say a word about anything he does there. That's the whole secret. Well, God be with them! Do you know, sir, who hangs out with them? Young boys and girls. So these people steal an hour or two from sleep, and then walk in pairs. Yes, here are a couple. Complete the following tasks:

Answer the questions in writing with a line of text. Learn close to the text. Questions:

How do the poor live? Why do the merchants lock the gates and let their dogs go? What secret do merchants keep?

"Fathers and Sons"

I.S. Turgenev

The places they passed through could not be called picturesque. The fields, all the fields stretched right up to the sky, now rising slightly, then falling again; Here and there small forests could be seen and, dotted with sparse and low bushes, ravines twisted, reminding the eye of their own image on the ancient plans of Catherine’s time. There were rivers with dug-out banks, and tiny ponds with thin dams, and villages with low huts under dark, often half-swept roofs, and crooked threshing sheds with walls woven from brushwood and yawning gates near empty barns, and churches, sometimes brick with plaster that had fallen off here and there, or wooden ones with leaning crosses and ruined cemeteries. Arkady's heart gradually sank. As if on purpose, the peasants were met all shabby, on bad nags; roadside willows with stripped bark and broken branches stood like beggars in rags; emaciated, rough, as if gnawed, cows greedily nibbled grass in the ditches. It seemed that they had just escaped from someone’s menacing, deadly claws - and, caused by the pitiful appearance of exhausted animals, in the midst of a red spring day, the white ghost of a bleak, endless winter with its blizzards, frosts and snows arose... “No,” thought Arkady , - this is not a rich region, it does not amaze you with either contentment or hard work; it’s impossible, he can’t stay like this, transformations are necessary... but how to carry them out, how to start?..” Complete the following tasks:

Answer the questions in writing using a line from the text. Learn close to the text. Questions:

What do the scattered roofs, threshing sheds with yawning gates, empty threshing floors, churches with peeling plaster and leaning crosses say? What kind of transformations did Russia need on the eve of the abolition of serfdom, in your opinion?

ON THE. Nekrasov

"Poet and Citizen"

Citizen

Listen: shame on you!

It's time to get up! You know yourself

What time has come;

In whom the sense of duty has not cooled,

Who is incorruptibly straight in heart,

Who has talent, strength, accuracy,

Tom shouldn't sleep now...

Wake up: boldly smash the vices...

It’s a shame to sleep with your talent;

It’s even more shameful in a time of grief

The beauty of the valleys, skies and sea

And sing of sweet affection...

The son cannot look calmly

On my dear mother's grief,

There will be no worthy citizen

I have a cold heart for my homeland -

There is no worse reproach for him...

Go into the fire for the honor of your fatherland,

For conviction, for love,

Go and die perfectly -

You will not die in vain: the matter is strong,

When blood flows underneath...

What is a citizen?

A worthy son of the Fatherland. –

Oh! We will be merchants, cadets,

Bourgeois, officials, nobles,

Even poets are enough for us,

But we need, we need citizens!

Without disgust, without fear

I went to prison and to the place of execution,

I went to courts and hospitals.

I won’t repeat what I saw there...

I swear I honestly hated it

I swear, I truly loved!

So what?.. hearing my sounds,

They considered them black slander;

I had to fold my hands humbly

Or pay with your head...

What was to be done? Recklessly

Blame people, blame fate...

If only I could see a fight

I would fight, no matter how difficult it is,

But... however, the main problem:

I was young, I was young then!

Life slyly beckoned forward,

Like free streams of the sea,

And love tenderly promised

My best blessings -

The soul fearfully retreated...

But no matter how many reasons,

I don't hide the bitter truth

And I timidly bow my head

In the words: an honest citizen.

That fatal, vain flame

To this day it burns my chest,

And I'm glad if someone

He will throw a stone at me with contempt.

Complete the following tasks: Answer the questions in writing using a line from the text. 2. Memorize all passages. Questions:

What time is the citizen talking about? What is the purpose of a poet? What is a shame to do in times of grief? What is the citizen calling the poet to do? Who can be called a citizen? How does the poet explain his apostasy?

“Who can live well in Rus'?”

Yakim Nagoy lives,
He works himself to death
He drinks until he’s half dead!..” -

The peasants laughed
And they told the master,
What a man Yakim is.

Yakim, wretched old man,
Once lived in St. Petersburg,
Yes, he ended up in jail:
I decided to compete with the merchant!
Like a strip of velcro,
He returned to his homeland
And he took up the plow.
It's been roasting for thirty years since then
On the strip under the sun,
He escapes under the harrow
From frequent rain,
He lives and tinkers with the plow,
And death will come to Yakimushka -
As the lump of earth falls off,
What's stuck on the plow...

There was an incident with him: pictures
He bought it for his son
Hung them on the walls
And I didn't smaller than a boy
I loved looking at them.
God's disfavor has come
The village caught fire -
And it was at Yakimushka’s
accumulated over a century
Thirty-five rubles.
I’d rather take the rubles,
And first he showed pictures
He began to tear it off the wall;
Meanwhile his wife
I was fiddling with icons,
And then the hut collapsed -
Yakim made such a mistake!
The virgins merged into a lump,
For that lump they give him
Eleven rubles...
“Oh brother Yakim! not cheap
The pictures worked!
But to a new hut
I suppose you hung them?”

Hung it up - there are new ones -
Yakim said and fell silent.

The master looked at the plowman:
The chest is sunken; as if pressed in
Stomach; at the eyes, at the mouth
Bends like cracks
On dry ground;
And himself to the ground - mother
He looks like: brown neck,
Like a layer cut off by a plow,
Brick face
Hand - tree bark,
And the hair is sand.

Complete the following tasks:

Answer the questions in writing in a line of text. Questions:

Why did Yakim Nagoy go to prison? Why did Yakim save not rubles during the fire, but popular prints?

Ermil Girin

He had everything he needed
For happiness: and peace of mind,
And money and honor,
An enviable, true honor,
Not bought with money,
Not with fear: with strict truth,
With intelligence and kindness!
Yes, just, I repeat to you,
You are passing in vain
He sits in prison... -

“How so?”
- And God's will!

Have any of you heard,
How the estate rebelled
Landowner Obrubkov,
Frightened province,
Nedykhanev County,
Village Tetanus?..
How to write about fires
In the newspapers (I read them):
"Remained unknown
The reason is the same here:
Until now it is unknown
Not to the zemstvo police officer,
Not to the highest government
Neither the tetanus themselves,
Why did the opportunity arise?
But it turned out to be rubbish.
It took an army.
The Sovereign himself sent
He spoke to the people
Then he’ll try to curse
And shoulders with epaulets
Will lift you high
Then he will try with affection
And chests with royal crosses
In all four directions
It will start turning.
Yes, the abuse was unnecessary here,
And the caress is incomprehensible:
“Orthodox peasantry!
Mother Rus'! Father Tsar!
And nothing more!
Having been beaten enough
They wanted it for the soldiers
Command: fall!
Yes to the volost clerk
A happy thought came here,
It's about Ermila Girin
He said to the boss:
- The people will believe Girin,
The people will listen to him... -
“Call him quickly!”

Complete the following tasks: 1. Answer the questions in writing with a line of text. Questions:

What is needed for happiness? How did Yermil behave during the rebellion of the estate, in your opinion, why did he end up in prison?

Saveliy, the Holy Russian hero

Grandfather lived in a special room,
Didn't like families
He didn’t let me into his corner;
And she was angry, barking,
His "branded, convict"
My own son was honoring.
Savely will not be angry.
He will go to his little room,
Reads the holy calendar, gets baptized,
And suddenly he will say cheerfully:
“Branded, but not a slave!”...

Had favorite words
And grandfather released them
According to the word in an hour.
"Dead... lost..."
“Oh, you Aniki warriors!
With old people, with women
All you have to do is fight!”
“To be intolerant is an abyss!
To endure it is an abyss!..”

“Why are you, Savelyushka,
Are they called branded, convict?”

I was a convict. -
“You, grandpa?”
- “I, granddaughter!
I'm in the land of the German Vogel
Khristyan Khristianich
Buried a living one... -

“And that’s enough! You’re kidding, grandpa!”

No, I'm not kidding. Listen up! -
And he told me everything.

In pre-teen times
We were also lordly,
Yes, but no landowners,
No German managers
We didn't know then.
We did not rule the corvee,
We didn't pay rent
And so, when it comes to reason,
We'll send you once every three years. -

“How can this be, Savelyushka?”

And they were blessed
Times like these.
No wonder there is a proverb,
What's our side
The devil has been searching for three years.
There are dense forests all around,
The swamps all around are marshy.
No horse can come to us,
Can't go on foot!
Our landowner Shalashnikov
Through animal paths
With his regiment - he was a military man -
Tried to reach us
Yes, I turned my skis!
Zemstvo police are coming to us
Didn’t get in for a year, -
Those were the times!
And now the master is at hand,
The road is good riddance...
Ugh! take her ashes!..
We were only worried
Bears... yes with bears
We managed it easily.
With a knife and a spear
I myself am scarier than the elk,
Along protected paths
I go: “My forest!” - I scream.
I just got scared once.
How to step on a sleepy
A bear in the forest.
And then I didn’t rush to run,
And so he thrust the spear,
It's like it's on a spit
Chicken - spun
I didn’t live for an hour!
My back was crunching at that time,
Pained occasionally
While I was young,
And in old age she bent over.
Isn't it true, Matryonushka,
On the verge 1 I look like? -

“You started, so finish it!
Well, you lived - you didn’t grieve,
What’s next, head?”

According to Shalashnikov time
I came up with a new thing,
An order comes to us:
“Appear!” We didn't show up
Let's keep quiet, let's not move
In your swamp.
There was a severe drought
The police arrived
We pay tribute to her - with honey and fish!
I came again
Threatens to straighten out with a convoy,
We are animal skins!
And in the third - we are nothing!
Put on old bast shoes,
We put on torn hats,
Skinny Armenians -
And Koryozhina set off!..
They came... (In the provincial town
He stood with the Shalashnikov regiment.)
“Obrok!” - There is no rent!
No grain was produced
No smelts were caught... -
“Obrok!” - There is no rent! -
Didn't bother to talk:
“Hey, recess is first!” -
And he began to flog us.

Korezhskaya's money is tight!
Yes racks and Shalashnikov:
The tongues were already getting in the way,
My brains were already shaking
It's in the heads!
Heroic fortification,
Don't use the rod!.. There's nothing to do!
We shout: wait, give us time!
We cut open the onuchi
And the master of the foreheads 2
They brought half a hat.

The fighter Shalashnikov has calmed down!
Something so bitter
He brought it to us to the herbalist,
He drank with us and clinked his glass
With Koryoga conquered:
“Well, fortunately you gave up!
And then - that's God! - I decided
Skin you clean...
I would put it on a drum
And he gave it to the shelf!
Ha ha! haha! haha! haha!
(Laughs - glad for the idea):
If only there was a drum!”

Let's go home dejected...
Two stocky old men
They laugh... Ay, ridges!
Hundred-ruble notes
Home under the shadows
They carry untouched ones!
How stubborn we beggars are -
So that’s what they fought off!
I thought then:
“Well, okay! devils,
You won't get ahead
Laugh at me!"
And the rest became ashamed,
They swore to the church:
“We will not be put to shame in the future,
We will die under the rods!”

The landowner liked it
Korezhsky foreheads,
What a year - calling... calling...

Shalashnikov tore excellently,
And not so great
Income received:
Weak people gave up
And the strong for the patrimony
They stood well.
I also endured
He remained silent and thought:
“No matter how you take it, son of a dog,
But you can’t knock out your whole soul,
Leave something behind!
How will Shalashnikov accept the tribute?
Let's leave - and behind the outpost
Let's divide the profits:
“What money is left!
You’re a fool, Shalashnikov!”
And made fun of the master
Koryoga in turn!
These were proud people!
And now give me a slap -
Police officer, landowner
They're taking their last penny!

But we lived as merchants...

Red summer is coming,
We are waiting for the certificate... It has arrived...
And there is a notice in it,
What Mr. Shalashnikov
Killed near Varna.
We have no regrets,
And a thought fell on my heart:
"Prosperity comes
The peasant is finished!”
And for sure: unprecedented
The heir came up with a solution:
He sent a German to us.
Through the dense forests,
Through marshy swamps
He came on foot, you rascal!
One finger: a cap
Yes, a cane, but in a cane
A shell for fishing.
And at first he was quiet:
"Pay what you can."
- We can’t do anything! -
“I’ll notify the master.”
- Notify!.. - That’s the end of it.
He began to live and live;
He ate more fish;
Sitting on the river with a fishing rod
Yes, hit yourself on the nose,
Then on the forehead - bam yes bam!
We laughed: - You don’t love
Korezh mosquito...
Don’t you love me, don’t you?.. -
Rolling along the shore
Cackling in a wild voice
Like in a bathhouse on a shelf...

With the guys, with the girls
Made friends, wanders through the forest...
No wonder he wandered!
"If you can't pay,
Work!” - What is yours?
Job? - “Dig in
Grooves preferably
Swamp..." We dug...
“Now cut down the forest...”
- OK then! - We chopped
And he was quick to show
Where to cut.
We look: there is a clearing!
How the clearing was cleared,
To the crossbar swamp
He ordered me to drive it along it.
Well, in a word: we realized it,
How did they make the road?
That the German caught us!

I went to town as a couple!
Let's see, he's lucky from the city
Boxes, mattresses;
Where did they come from?
The German has bare feet
Kids and wife.
Took bread and salt with the police officer
And with other zemstvo authorities,
The yard is full of guests!

And then came hard labor
To the Korezh peasant -
Ruined to the bone!
And he tore... like Shalashnikov himself!
Yes, he was simple; will attack
With all our military strength,
Just think: he will kill!
And put the money in, it will fall off,
Neither give nor take bloated
There is a tick in the dog's ear.
The German has a death grip:
Until he lets you go around the world,
It won't go away, it sucks! -

“How did you endure, grandfather?”

That's why we endured
That we are heroes.
This is Russian heroism.
Do you think, Matryonushka,
The man is not a hero?
And his life is not a military one,
And death is not written for him
In battle - what a hero!

Hands are twisted with chains,
Feet forged with iron,
Back...dense forests
We walked along it - we broke down.
What about the breasts? Elijah the prophet
It rattles and rolls around
On a chariot of fire...
The hero endures everything!

And it bends, but does not break,
Doesn't break, doesn't fall...
Isn’t he a hero?”

“You're joking, grandpa! -
I said. - So and so
Mighty hero,
Tea, the mice will eat you!”

I don’t know, Matryonushka.
For now there is a terrible craving
He raised it,
Yes, he went into the ground up to his chest
With effort! By his face
Not tears - blood flows!
I don't know, I can't imagine
What will happen? God knows!
And I’ll say about myself:
How the winter blizzards howled,
How the old bones ached,
I was lying on the stove;
I lay there and thought:
Where have you gone, strength?
What were you useful for? -
Under rods, under sticks
Left for little things! -

“What about the German, grandfather?”

But the German ruled no matter how.
Yes our axes
They lay there for the time being!

We endured for eighteen years.
The German built a factory,
He ordered to dig a well.
Nine of us dug
We worked until half a day,
We want to have breakfast.
A German comes: “Just that?..”
And started us in his own way,
Saw slowly.
We stood there hungry
And the German scolded us
Yes, the ground is wet in a hole
He kicked.
It was a good hole...
Happened, I'm lightly
Pushed him with his shoulder
Then another pushed him,
And the third... We huddled together...
Two steps to the pit...
We didn't say a word
We didn't look at each other
In the eyes... and the whole crowd
Khristyan Khristianich
Pushed carefully
Everything towards the pit... everything to the edge...
And the German fell into a hole,
Shouts: “Rope! stairs!
We are nine shovels
They answered him.
“Kick it up!” - I dropped the word -
Under the word Russian people
They work more friendly.
“Keep it up! give it to me!” They pushed me so hard
It’s as if there wasn’t a hole -
Leveled to the ground!
Then we looked at each other... -

Grandfather stopped.

"What's next?"
- Next: rubbish!
A tavern... a prison in Bui-gorod.
There I learned to read and write,
So far they have decided on us.
The solution has been reached: hard labor
And whip first;
They didn’t tear it out - they anointed it,
Bad fight there!
Then... I escaped from hard labor...
Caught! didn't pet
And then on the head.
Factory bosses
Throughout Siberia they are famous -
The dog was eaten to fight.
Yes, Shalashnikov tore us down
More painful - I didn't wince
From the factory rubbish.
That master was - he knew how to flog!
He skinned me like that,
What lasts for a hundred years.

And life was not easy.
Twenty years of strict hard labor,
Twenty years of settlement.
I saved up some money
According to the Tsar's manifesto
I got back to my homeland again,
I built this little burner
And I’ve been living here for a long time.
While there was money,
We loved our grandfather, we cherished him,
Now they spit in your eyes!
Oh, you Aniki warriors!
With old people, with women
You just have to fight...

Savely's advice to his granddaughter Matryona Timofeevna

High is God, far is the king... -

“There’s no need: I’ll get there!”

Oh! what you? What are you, granddaughter?..
Be patient, multi-branched one!
Be patient, long-suffering one!
We can't find the truth.

“Why not, grandfather?”

You are a serf woman! -
Savelyushka said.

I thought for a long time, bitterly...

Complete the following tasks:

Answer the questions in writing with a line of text. Questions:

What was his son’s name and what did he answer? What were Savely’s favorite words? Why did he end up in hard labor?

Grigory Dobrosklonov

In the middle of the world below
For a free heart
There are two ways.

Weigh your proud strength.
Weigh your strong will:
Which way to go?

One spacious -
The road is rough,
The passions of a slave

It's huge
Greedy for temptation
There's a crowd coming.

About sincere life,
About the lofty goal
The idea there is funny.

It boils there forever.
Inhuman
Feud-war

For mortal blessings...
There are souls captive there
Full of sin.

Looks shiny
Life there is deadening
Good is deaf.

The other one is tight
The road is honest
They walk along it

Only strong souls
Loving,
To fight, to work

For the bypassed.
For the oppressed -
Multiply their circle

Go to the downtrodden
Go to the offended -
And be their friend!

Complete the following tasks:

Answer the questions in writing with a line of text. Learn the passage by heart. Questions:

Which way is Grigory Dobrosklonov going? 2. What kind of road is this and what kind of people walk along it?

A.P. Chekhov

« The Cherry Orchard»

Monologues of Trofimov 1

Humanity moves forward, improving its strength. Everything that is out of reach for him now will someday become close and understandable, but he must work and help with all his might those who are seeking the truth. Here, in Russia, very few people still work. The vast majority of the intelligentsia that I know does not seek anything, does nothing, and is not yet capable of work. They call themselves intellectuals, they say “you” about servants, they treat men like animals, they study poorly, they don’t read anything seriously, they do absolutely nothing, they only talk about science, they understand little about art. Everyone is serious, everyone has stern faces, everyone talks only about important things, philosophizes, and yet in front of everyone the workers eat disgustingly, sleep without pillows, thirty, forty in one room, there are bedbugs everywhere, stench, dampness, moral impurity... And, obviously, all the good conversations we have are in order to avert the eyes of ourselves and others. Tell me where we have the nursery, which is talked about so much and often, where are the reading rooms? They are only written about in novels, but in reality they don’t exist at all. There is only dirt, vulgarity, Asian... I am afraid and do not like very serious faces, I am afraid of serious conversations. Let's keep quiet. Complete the following tasks:

Questions:

What needed to be done to make the future close? How does Trofimov assess the Russian intelligentsia at the beginning of the 20th century?

Monologue 2

All Russia is our garden. The earth is great and beautiful, there are many wonderful places on it. Think, Anya, your grandfather, great-grandfather and all your ancestors were serf owners who owned living souls, and don’t human beings look at you from every cherry in the garden, from every leaf, from every trunk, don’t you really hear voices... Own living souls - after all, this has reborn all of you, who lived before and are now living, so that your mother, you, uncle, no longer notice that you are living in debt, at someone else’s expense, at the expense of those people whom you do not allow further than the front hall... We have fallen behind for at least two hundred years, we still have absolutely nothing, no definite relationship to the past, we only philosophize, complain about melancholy or drink vodka. After all, it is so clear that in order to begin to live in the present, we must first atone for our past, put an end to it, and we can atone for it only through suffering, only through extraordinary, continuous labor. Understand this, Anya. Complete the following tasks:

Answer the questions in writing in a line of text. Learn close to the text. Questions:

How can you atone for the sins of the past? Can Ranevskaya and Gaev be the owners of Russia's cherry orchard, prove it.

V. Bryusov

"Job"

The only happiness is work,

In the fields, at the machine, at the table, -

Work until you sweat hot

Work without extra bills -

Hours of hard work!

Follow the plow steadily,

Calculate the swings of your scythe,

Lean towards the horse's girths,