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.
Pushkin - Boris Gudonov
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. All day
I have waited for this secret meeting, pondered
On all that I should say to her, how best
I might enmesh Marina's haughty mind,
Calling her queen of Moscow. But the hour
Has come--and I remember naught, I cannot
Recall the speeches I have learned by rote;
Love puts imagination to confusion--
But something there gleamed suddenly--a rustling;
Hush--no, it was the moon's deceitful light,
It was the rustling of the breeze.