Drink, and keep your thoughts to yourself,*
Father Varlaam!
Father Varlaam!
Pushkin - Boris Gudonov
Not even join in the song?
GREGORY. I don't wish to.
MISSAIL. Everyone to his liking--
VARLAAM. But a tipsy man's in Heaven. * Father Missail!
We will drink a glass to our hostess. (Sings: "Where
the brave lad in durance," etc. ) Still, Father Missail,
when I am drinking, then I don't like sober men; tipsiness
is one thing--but pride quite another. If you want
to live as we do, you are welcome. No? --then take
yourself off, away with you; a mountebank is no
companion for a priest.
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot
be satisfactorily rendered into English. ]
GREGORY.
Drink, and keep your thoughts to yourself,*
Father Varlaam! You see, I too sometimes know how
to make puns.
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot
be satisfactorily rendered into English. ]
VARLAAM. But why should I keep my thoughts to myself?
MISSAIL. Let him alone, Father Varlaam.
VARLAAM. But what sort of a fasting man is he? Of his
own accord he attached himself as a companion to us;
no one knows who he is, no one knows whence he comes--
and yet he gives himself grand airs; perhaps he has a
close acquaintance with the pillory. (Drinks and sings:
"A young monk took the tonsure," etc. )
GREGORY. (To HOSTESS. ) Whither leads this road?
HOSTESS. To Lithuania, my dear, to the Luyov mountains.
GREGORY. I don't wish to.
MISSAIL. Everyone to his liking--
VARLAAM. But a tipsy man's in Heaven. * Father Missail!
We will drink a glass to our hostess. (Sings: "Where
the brave lad in durance," etc. ) Still, Father Missail,
when I am drinking, then I don't like sober men; tipsiness
is one thing--but pride quite another. If you want
to live as we do, you are welcome. No? --then take
yourself off, away with you; a mountebank is no
companion for a priest.
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot
be satisfactorily rendered into English. ]
GREGORY.
Drink, and keep your thoughts to yourself,*
Father Varlaam! You see, I too sometimes know how
to make puns.
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot
be satisfactorily rendered into English. ]
VARLAAM. But why should I keep my thoughts to myself?
MISSAIL. Let him alone, Father Varlaam.
VARLAAM. But what sort of a fasting man is he? Of his
own accord he attached himself as a companion to us;
no one knows who he is, no one knows whence he comes--
and yet he gives himself grand airs; perhaps he has a
close acquaintance with the pillory. (Drinks and sings:
"A young monk took the tonsure," etc. )
GREGORY. (To HOSTESS. ) Whither leads this road?
HOSTESS. To Lithuania, my dear, to the Luyov mountains.
