Swan Song [7]
can never be such things as old age or loneliness or sickness . . . and death itself is half . . . [Weeps] No, no, Nikitushka! It is all over for us now! What sort of a genius am I? I'm like a squeezed lemon, a cracked bottle, and you--you are the old rat of the theatre . . . a prompter! Come on! [They go] I'm no genius, I'm only fit to be in the suite of Fortinbras, and even for that I am too old.... Yes.... Do you remember those lines from Othello, Nikitushka?
"Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content! Farewell the plumed troops and the big wars That make ambition virtue! O farewell! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!"
IVANITCH. Oh! You're a genius, a genius!
SVIETLOVIDOFF. And again this:
"Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even: Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven."
They go out together, the curtain falls slowly.
End
"Farewell the tranquil mind! Farewell content! Farewell the plumed troops and the big wars That make ambition virtue! O farewell! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war!"
IVANITCH. Oh! You're a genius, a genius!
SVIETLOVIDOFF. And again this:
"Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even: Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven."
They go out together, the curtain falls slowly.
End