LUKA. Verses? And what do I want with verses?
THE ACTOR. Sometimes they’re funny—sometimes sad.
SATINE. Well, poet, are you coming? [Exit with the Baron]
THE ACTOR. I’m coming. I’ll join you. For instance, old man, here’s a bit of verse—I forget how it begins—I forget . . . [brushes his hand across his forehead]
BUBNOFF. There! Your Queen is lost—go on, play!
MIEDVIEDIEFF. I made the wrong move.
THE ACTOR. Formerly, before my organism was poisoned with alcohol, old man, I had a good memory. But now it’s all over with me, brother. I used to declaim these verses with tremendous success—thunders of applause . . . you have no idea what applause means . . . it goes to your head like vodka! I’d step out on the stage—stand this way—[Strikes a pose]—I’d stand there and . . . [Pause] I can’t remember a word—I can’t remember! My favorite verses—isn’t it ghastly, old man?
LUKA. Yes—is there anything worse than forgetting what you loved? Your very soul is in the thing you love!
THE ACTOR. I’ve drunk my soul away, old man—brother, I’m lost . . . and why? Because I had no faith. . . . I’m done with . . .
LUKA. Well—then—cure yourself! Nowadays they have a cure for drunkards. They treat you free of charge, brother. There’s a hospital for drunkards—where they’re treated for nothing. They’ve owned up, you see, that even a drunkard is a human being, and they’re only too glad to help him get well. Well—then—go to it!