My friend,
I've not forgotten the old pranks!
I've not forgotten the old pranks!
Pushkin - Boris Gudonov
He is not handsome, but his eyes are pleasing,
And one can see he is of royal birth.
(A fresh couple. )
DAME. When will the army march?
CAVALIER. When the tsarevich
Orders it; we are ready; but 'tis clear
The lady Mnishek and Dimitry mean
To keep us prisoners here.
DAME. A pleasant durance.
CAVALIER. Truly, if you. . .
(They walk off; the rooms become empty. )
MNISHEK. We old ones dance no longer;
The sound of music lures us not; we press not
Nor kiss the hands of charmers--ah!
My friend,
I've not forgotten the old pranks! Things now
Are not what once they were, what once they were!
Youth, I'll be sworn, is not so bold, nor beauty
So lively; everything--confess, my friend--
Has somehow become dull. So let us leave them;
My comrade, let us go and find a flask
Of old Hungarian overgrown with mould;
Let's bid my butler open an old bottle,
And in a quiet corner, tete-a-tete,
Let's drain a draught, a stream as thick as fat;
And while we're so engaged, let's think things over.
Let us go, brother.
VISHNEVETSKY. Yes, my friend, let's go.
NIGHT
THE GARDEN. THE FOUNTAIN
PRETENDER. (Enters. ) Here is the fountain; hither will she come.
I was not born a coward; I have seen
Death near at hand, and face to face with death
My spirit hath not blenched. A life-long dungeon
Hath threatened me, I have been close pursued,
And yet my spirit quailed not, and by boldness
I have escaped captivity. But what
Is this which now constricts my breath? What means
This overpowering tremor, or this quivering
Of tense desire? No, this is fear.
And one can see he is of royal birth.
(A fresh couple. )
DAME. When will the army march?
CAVALIER. When the tsarevich
Orders it; we are ready; but 'tis clear
The lady Mnishek and Dimitry mean
To keep us prisoners here.
DAME. A pleasant durance.
CAVALIER. Truly, if you. . .
(They walk off; the rooms become empty. )
MNISHEK. We old ones dance no longer;
The sound of music lures us not; we press not
Nor kiss the hands of charmers--ah!
My friend,
I've not forgotten the old pranks! Things now
Are not what once they were, what once they were!
Youth, I'll be sworn, is not so bold, nor beauty
So lively; everything--confess, my friend--
Has somehow become dull. So let us leave them;
My comrade, let us go and find a flask
Of old Hungarian overgrown with mould;
Let's bid my butler open an old bottle,
And in a quiet corner, tete-a-tete,
Let's drain a draught, a stream as thick as fat;
And while we're so engaged, let's think things over.
Let us go, brother.
VISHNEVETSKY. Yes, my friend, let's go.
NIGHT
THE GARDEN. THE FOUNTAIN
PRETENDER. (Enters. ) Here is the fountain; hither will she come.
I was not born a coward; I have seen
Death near at hand, and face to face with death
My spirit hath not blenched. A life-long dungeon
Hath threatened me, I have been close pursued,
And yet my spirit quailed not, and by boldness
I have escaped captivity. But what
Is this which now constricts my breath? What means
This overpowering tremor, or this quivering
Of tense desire? No, this is fear.
