Выделить в этом отрывке все сказуемые , рядом дать их характеристику. Напр. Can go - PrSA, had gone - PPA. His remark didn't seem strange to anyone. It sounded so much like Marlowe. They listened to him in silence. No one bothered to mutter anything back. At last he spoke very slowly:

- I've been thinking about the old days, when the Romans first came here, one thousand nine hundred years ago... yesterday... The light, would you say, was lit on this river in the time of the knights? Yes, but it was like flames spreading across the plain, like lightning in the clouds. We live in the flash of lightning - may it never go out as long as our old land orbits! But yesterday there was darkness here. Imagine the mood of the commander of a beautiful...what are they called?...ah yes!..trireme in the Mediterranean, who suddenly receives orders to sail north. He rides overland, hastily crosses the lands of the Gauls, and takes command of one of those vessels which, if the books are to be believed, were built by a hundred legionaries in a month or two... What nimble fellows these men must have been!..! Imagine this commander showing up here, at the edge of the world... The sea is leaden, the sky is the color of smoke, the ship is as clumsy as a concertina, and he's going up the river, carrying orders, or goods, or... whatever you want. Sandbanks, swamps, forests, savages... very little food fit for civilized man, and nothing but water from the Thames to quench one's thirst. There is no Falernian wine, you cannot go ashore. In some places you can see a military camp, lost in the middle of nowhere, like a needle in a haystack. Cold, fog, storms, disease, exile and death - death lurking in the air, in the water, in the bushes. People must have died here like flies. And yet he bore it. He bore it bravely, wasted no time in thinking about it, and only bragged about it later, maybe remembering all he had endured. Yes, they were men brave enough to face the darkness. Perhaps what kept him going was the hope of being promoted, of joining the navy in Ravenna, if good friends could be found in Rome and if the terrible climate would spare him. And imagine a young Roman from a good family, wearing a toga. He, you know, was too fond of playing dice and, to improve his affairs, arrived here in the retinue of a prefect, a tax collector or a merchant. He landed among the swamps, walked through the woods, and at some camp in the back country felt the wilderness closing in around him, felt the beating of mysterious life in the forest, in the jungle, in the hearts of the savages. There could be no initiation into these mysteries. He is condemned to live in an environment beyond comprehension, which in itself is disgusting. And there is a certain charm in it that makes itself felt. An enchantment in the hideous. Imagine his growing regret, his desire to flee, his helpless disgust, his refusal to fight, his hatred...