Page:Plays by Anton Tchekoff (1916).djvu/241

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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!”

. Oh! You’re a genius, a genius!

. 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.”