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Принц и нищий

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Предлагаем вниманию читателей знаменитый роман Марка Твена о двух мальчиках — принце Эдуарде и нищем Томе Кенти, которые случайно встретились, обнаружили удивительное внешнее сходство друг с другом и решили поменяться местами. Неадаптированный текст романа сопровождается подробным комментарием и словарем. Для студентов языковых вузов и всех любителей англоязычной литературы.
Твен, М. Принц и нищий : книга для чтения на английском языке : худож. литература / М. Твен. — Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2016. — 320 с. — (Classical Literature). - ISBN 978-5-9925-1139-0. - Текст : электронный. - URL: https://znanium.com/catalog/product/1046762 (дата обращения: 28.11.2024). – Режим доступа: по подписке.
Фрагмент текстового слоя документа размещен для индексирующих роботов

                                    
УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
Т 26

ISBN 978-5-9925-1139-0

 
Твен М.
Т 26 Принц и нищий : книга для чтения на английском языке. — Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2016. — 
320 с. — (Classical Literature).
ISBN 978-5-9925-1139-0.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей знаменитый роман Марка Твена о двух мальчиках — принце Эдуарде и нищем Томе Кенти, которые 
случайно встретились, обнаружили удивительное внешнее сходство 
друг с другом и решили поменяться местами.
Неадаптированный текст романа сопровождается подробным 
комментарием и словарем. Для студентов языковых вузов и всех любителей англоязычной литературы.
УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

© КАРО, 2016

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Марк Твен

THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER

ПРИНЦ И НИЩИЙ

Комментарии и словарь Е. Г. Тигонен

Ответственный редактор О. П. Панайотти
Технический редактор Я. В. Попова
Корректор Е. Г. Тигонен

Издательство «КАРО», ЛР № 065644 
195027, СанктПетербург, Свердловская наб., д. 60, (812) 5705497

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Гигиенический сертификат
№ 78.01.07.953.П.324 от 10.02.2012

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Foreword

I will set down a tale as it was told to me by one 
who had it of his father, which latter had it of HIS 
father, this last having in like manner had it of 
HIS father — and so on, back and still back, three 
hundred years and more, the fathers transmitting 
it to the sons and so preserving it. It may be 
history, it may be only a legend, a tradition. It may 
have happened, it may not have happened: but it 
COULD have happened. It may be that the wise 
and the learned believed it in the old days; it may 
be that only the unlearned and the simple loved 
it and credited it.

Th e quality of mercy … is twice bless’d;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes;
’Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
Th e throned monarch better than his crown.

Th e Merchant of Venice

To Those good-mannered and agreeable 
children Susie and Clara Clemens this book is 
aff ectionately inscribed by their father.

Chapter I

Th e Birth of the Prince 
and the Pauper

In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn 
day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy 
was born to a poor family of the name of Canty1, who did 
not want him. On the same day another English child 
was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, who did 
want him. All England wanted him too. England had so 
longed for him, and hoped for him, and prayed God for 
him, that, now that he was really come, the people went 
nearly mad for joy. Mere acquaintances hugged and 
kissed each other and cried. Everybody took a holiday, 
and high and low, rich and poor, feasted and danced 
and sang, and got very mellow; and they kept this up for 
days and nights together. By day, London was a sight to 
see2, with gay banners waving from every balcony and 
housetop, and splendid pageants marching along. By 
night, it was again a sight to see, with its great bonfi res 
at every corner, and its troops of revellers making merry 
around them. Th ere was no talk in all England but of 
the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales3, who 

1 of the name of Canty — (уст.) по фамилии Кенти (canty 
= бойкий, веселый, живой)
2 was a sight to see — (разг.) представлял собой очень 
красивое зрелище
3 Prince of Wales — принц Уэльский, титул наследника 
престола

lay lapped in silks and satins, unconscious of all this 
fuss, and not knowing that great lords and ladies were 
tending him and watching over him — and not caring, 
either. But there was no talk about the other baby, Tom 
Canty, lapped in his poor rags, except among the family 
of paupers whom he had just come to trouble with his 
presence.

Chapter II

Tom’s Early Life

Let us skip a number of years.
London was fi ft een hundred years old, and was a 
great town — for that day. It had a hundred thousand 
inhabitants — some think double as many1. Th e streets 
were very narrow, and crooked, and dirty, especially 
in the part where Tom Canty lived, which was not far 
from London Bridge2. Th e houses were of wood, with 
the second story projecting over the fi rst, and the third 
sticking its elbows out beyond the second. Th e higher the 
houses grew, the broader they grew. Th ey were skeletons 
of strong criss-cross beams, with solid material between, 
coated with plaster. Th e beams were painted red or blue 

1 some think double as many — (уст.) некоторые полагают, что вдвое больше
2 London Bridge — Лондонский мост (не путать с Тауэрским мостом), знаменит благодаря старой детской песенке 
“London bridge is falling down”

or black, according to the owner’s taste, and this gave 
the houses a very picturesque look. Th e windows were 
small, glazed with little diamond-shaped panes, and they 
opened outward, on hinges, like doors.
Th e house which Tom’s father lived in was up a foul 
little pocket called Off al Court, out of Pudding Lane. It 
was small, decayed, and rickety, but it was packed full of 
wretchedly poor families. Canty’s tribe occupied a room 
on the third fl oor. Th e mother and father had a sort 
of bedstead in the corner; but Tom, his grandmother, 
and his two sisters, Bet and Nan, were not restricted — 
they had all the fl oor to themselves, and might sleep 
where they chose. Th ere were the remains of a blanket 
or two, and some bundles of ancient and dirty straw, 
but these could not rightly be called beds, for they were 
not organised; they were kicked into a general pile, 
mornings, and selections made from the mass at night, 
for service.
Bet and Nan were fi ft een years old — twins. Th ey 
were good-hearted girls, unclean, clothed in rags, and 
profoundly ignorant. Th eir mother was like them. But 
the father and the grandmother were a couple of fi ends. 
Th ey got drunk whenever they could; then they fought 
each other or anybody else who came in the way; they 
cursed and swore always, drunk or sober; John Canty 
was a thief, and his mother a beggar. Th ey made beggars 
of the children, but failed to make thieves of them. 
Among, but not of, the dreadful rabble that inhabited 

the house, was a good old priest whom the King had 
turned out of house and home with a pension of a few 
farthings, and he used to get the children aside and teach 
them right ways secretly. Father Andrew also taught 
Tom a little Latin, and how to read and write; and would 
have done the same with the girls, but they were afraid 
of the jeers of their friends, who could not have endured 
such a queer accomplishment in them.
All Off al Court was just such another hive as Canty’s 
house. Drunkenness, riot and brawling were the order, 
there, every night and nearly all night long. Broken 
heads were as common as hunger in that place. Yet 
little Tom was not unhappy. He had a hard time of it, 
but did not know it. It was the sort of time that all the 
Off al Court boys had, therefore he supposed it was the 
correct and comfortable thing. When he came home 
empty-handed at night, he knew his father would curse 
him and thrash him fi rst, and that when he was done 
the awful grandmother would do it all over again and 
improve on it; and that away in the night his starving 
mother would slip to him stealthily with any miserable 
scrap or crust she had been able to save for him by going 
hungry herself, notwithstanding she was oft en caught 
in that sort of treason and soundly beaten for it by her 
husband.
No, Tom’s life went along well enough, especially in 
summer. He only begged just enough to save himself, 
for the laws against mendicancy were stringent, and 

the penalties heavy; so he put in a good deal of his time 
listening to good Father Andrew’s charming old tales 
and legends about giants and fairies, dwarfs and genii, 
and enchanted castles, and gorgeous kings and princes. 
His head grew to be full of these wonderful things, and 
many a night as he lay in the dark on his scant and 
offensive straw, tired, hungry, and smarting from a 
thrashing, he unleashed his imagination and soon forgot 
his aches and pains in delicious picturings to himself 
of the charmed life of a petted prince in a regal palace. 
One desire came in time to haunt him day and night: it 
was to see a real prince, with his own eyes. He spoke of 
it once to some of his Off al Court comrades; but they 
jeered him and scoff ed him so unmercifully that he was 
glad to keep his dream to himself aft er that.
He oft en read the priest’s old books and got him to 
explain and enlarge upon them. His dreamings and 
readings worked certain changes in him, by-and-by. 
His dream-people were so fi ne that he grew to lament 
his shabby clothing and his dirt, and to wish to be clean 
and better clad. He went on playing in the mud just 
the same, and enjoying it, too; but, instead of splashing 
around in the Th ames solely for the fun of it, he began 
to fi nd an added value in it because of the washings and 
cleansings it aff orded.
Tom could always fi nd something going on around the 
Maypole in Cheapside, and at the fairs; and now and then 
he and the rest of London had a chance to see a military 

parade when some famous unfortunate was carried 
prisoner to the Tower, by land or boat. One summer’s 
day he saw poor Anne Askew1 and three men burned at 
the stake in Smithfi eld, and heard an ex-Bishop preach 
a sermon to them which did not interest him. Yes, Tom’s 
life was varied and pleasant enough, on the whole.
By-and-by Tom’s reading and dreaming about 
princely life wrought such a strong eff ect upon him that 
he began to act the prince, unconsciously. His speech and 
manners became curiously ceremonious and courtly, to 
the vast admiration and amusement of his intimates. 
But Tom’s infl uence among these young people began 
to grow now, day by day; and in time he came to be 
looked up to, by them, with a sort of wondering awe, as 
a superior being. He seemed to know so much! and he 
could do and say such marvellous things! and withal, 
he was so deep and wise! Tom’s remarks, and Tom’s 
performances, were reported by the boys to their elders; 
and these, also, presently began to discuss Tom Canty, 
and to regard him as a most gift ed and extraordinary 
creature. Full-grown people brought their perplexities 
to Tom for solution, and were oft en astonished at the 
wit and wisdom of his decisions. In fact he was become 
a hero to all who knew him except his own family — 
these, only, saw nothing in him.

1 Anne Askew — Энн Эскью (1521–1546), протестантка; 
из-за религиозных разногласий с католической церковью 
была подвергнута пыткам и сожжена в Смитфилде

Privately, aft er a while, Tom organised a royal court! 
He was the prince; his special comrades were guards, 
chamberlains, equerries, lords and ladies in waiting1, 
and the royal family. Daily the mock prince was received 
with elaborate ceremonials borrowed by Tom from his 
romantic readings; daily the great aff airs of the mimic 
kingdom were discussed in the royal council, and daily 
his mimic highness issued decrees to his imaginary 
armies, navies, and viceroyalties.
Aft er which, he would go forth in his rags and beg a 
few farthings, eat his poor crust, take his customary cuff s 
and abuse, and then stretch himself upon his handful 
of foul straw, and resume his empty grandeurs in his 
dreams.
And still his desire to look just once upon a real 
prince, in the fl esh, grew upon him, day by day, and week 
by week, until at last it absorbed all other desires, and 
became the one passion of his life.
One January day, on his usual begging tour, he tramped despondently up and down the region round 
about Mincing Lane and Little East Cheap, hour aft er 
hour, bare-footed and cold, looking in at cook-shop 
windows and longing for the dreadful pork-pies and 
other deadly inventions displayed there — for to him 
these were dainties fi t for the angels; that is, judging by 
the smell, they were — for it had never been his good 

1 ladies in waiting — (уст.) фрейлины, статс-дамы

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