Libretto: La Boheme - LightNovelsOnl.com
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MAR. (_flinging away his brush_) This infamous paint-brus.h.!.+
(_Stares at his canvas, and then without RUDOLPH observing it, he takes from his pocket a bunch of ribbons and kisses it._)
RUD. Ah! Mimi! false, fickle-hearted!
Ah! beauteous days departed!
Those hands so dainty!
Oh! fragrant, s.h.i.+ning tresses!
Ah! snow-white bosom!
Ah! Mimi! those brief, glad, golden days!
MAR. (_putting away his ribbons and staring anew at his canvas_) How is it that my brush With speed mechanical keeps moving, And plasters on the colors Quite against my will?
And though I would be painting landscapes, Meadows, woodlands fair in Spring-tide, My brush refuses to perform its office; But paints dark eyes, and two red, smiling lips; The features of Musetta haunt me still!
RUD. (_taking_ Mimi's _old bonnet from the table drawer_) And thou, O! rose-pink bonnet, That 'neath her pillow lay, That in her hour of parting she forgot--Thou wert the witness of our joy!
Come to my heart, ah! come!
Lie close against my heart, since my love is dead!
(_clasps the bonnet to his heart_)
MAR. Ah! frivolous Musetta! thee can I ne'er forget!
My grief affords her pleasure, And yet my weak heart is fain To call her to my fond arms again.
RUD. (_endeavoring to conceal his emotion from_ Marcel, _carelessly questions him_) What time is it now?
MAR. (_roused from his reverie, gaily replies_) Time for our yesterday's dinner.
RUD. But Schaunard's not back yet. (_Enter Schaunard_ _and_ Colline; _the former carries four rolls, and the latter a paper bag._)
SCH. Here we are!
RUD. How now?
MAR. How now?
(SCHAUNARD _places the rolls on the table._)
MAR. (_disdainfully_) Some bread!
COL. (_taking a herring out of the bag, and putting it on the table_) A dish that's worthy of Demosthenes: 'Tis a herring!
SCH. 'Tis salted!
COL. 'Our dinner is ready!
(_Seating themselves at the table, they pretend to be having a sumptuous meal._)
MAR. This is a food that the G.o.ds might envy.
SCH. (_placing Colline's hat on the table, and thrusting a bottle of water into it_) Now the champagne in the ice must go.
RUD. (_to_ MARCEL, _offering him some bread_) Choose, my lord marquis--salmon or turbot?
(_His offer is accepted, when, turning to _SCHAUNARD, _he proffers another crust of bread._) Now, duke, here's a choice vol-au-vent with mushrooms. (_He politely declines, and pours out a gla.s.s of water, which he hands to_ Marcel.)
SCH. Thank you, I dare not, this evening I'm dancing! (_The one and only tumbler is handed about._ Colline, _after voraciously devouring his roll, rises._)
RUD. (_to_ Colline) What? sated?
COL. (_with an air of great importance_) To business! The king awaits me.
MAR. (_eagerly_) What plot is brewing?
RUD. What's in the wind?
SCH. (_rises and approaches_ Colline, _observing with droll inquisitiveness_) What's in the wind?
MAR. What's in the wind?
(COLLINE _struts up and down, full of self-importance._)
COL. The king requires my services.
(_The others surround_ COLLINE, _bowing low to him._)
SCH. Bravo!
MAR. Bravo!
RUD. Bravo!
COL. (_with a patronizing air_) And then I've got to see Guizot!
SCH. Give me a goblet.
MAR. (_giving him the only gla.s.s_) Aye, quaff now a b.u.mper!
SCH. (_solemnly gets on to a chair and raises his gla.s.s_) Have I permission, oh! my most n.o.ble courtier?
RUD. and COL. (_interrupting_) Stop that.
COL. No more fooling.
MAR. Stop that. No more nonsense.
COL. Give me that tumbler. (_taking the gla.s.s from_ SCHAUNARD)
SCH. (_motioning his friends to let him speak_) With ardor irresistible Poetry fills my spirit.
COL. and MAR. (_yelling_) No.
SCH. (_complacently_) Then something ch.o.r.eographic may suit you!
