LA BOHEME Opera Puccini Grand Opera Full HD

This Red Sea of mine makes me feel cold and numb, as if it were pouring over me. I'll drown a Pharaoh in revenge. What are you doing? I'm watching the smoke rise up into the skies from a thousand Parisian chimneys, and l think of that no-good, hateful stove of ours, which lives a gentleman’s life of idleness. It’s been a long time since he received his just income. What are those stupid forests doing, all covered with snow? Rodolfo, I want to tell you a profound thought I’ve had: I’m cold as hell. Marcello, I’ll be frank: I'm not exactly sweating either. And my fingers are frozen as if I were still holding the enormous glacier that is Musetta's heart. - Love is a stove that burns too much! - And too fast! - Where the man is the fuel! - And woman the spark! - He burns in a moment. - And she stands by, watching! - Meanwhile, we're freezing in here! - And dying from lack of food! - We must have a fire! - Wait! We'll sacrifice the chair! - Eureka! – You've got it? – Yes! Sharpen your wits. Let Thought burst into flame. - Shall we burn the Red Sea? - No, painted canvas smells. My play! My burning drama will warm us. You mean to read it? I'll freeze. No, the paper will unfold in ash and genius soar back to its heaven. A serious loss to the age: - Rome is in danger! - What a noble heart! - Take the first act! - Here. - Tear it up! - Light it! What blissful heat! Signs of the Apocalypse begin to appear. No pawning allowed on Christmas Eve! - A fire! - Quiet, my play's being given... - To the stove? - I find it sparkling. - Brilliant! - But brief. - Brevity, its great merit. Your chair, Mr Author These intermissions bore you to death. Get on with it! - Act Two! - No whispering. - What profundity! - How colourful! In that dying blue flame an ardent love scene dies. - See that page crackle? - There were the kisses! I want to hear three acts at once! - And so unified is your bold conception. - Beautiful death in the joyful flame! - Oh Lord! The flame is dying. - So useless, so fragile a drama! Already curling up to die. Down with the author! – Firewood! – Cigars! - Bordeaux! Destiny provides us with a feast of plenty! The Bank of France has gone broke just for you. - Pick them up! - They must be made of tin! - Are you deaf or blind? Who is this man? - Louis Philippe! I bow to my King! Louis Philippe is at our feet! Now I'll tell you, this gold, or rather, this silver, has a noble history. - Let’s fire the stove! - It's hard to endure so much cold! An Englishman, a gentleman, a lord was looking for a musician. - Let’s set the table! - Right away! - Where are the matches? - Here! I introduce myself. He hires me. I ask him... - Cold roast beef. - Sweet pastry. 'When do the lessons begin?' I introduce myself, he hires me, I ask: 'When do the lessons begin?' He replies: 'Let’s start!' 'Look!' And he points to a parrot on the first floor. Then he adds: 'You play until that bird dies!' - The dining room's brilliant! - I played for three long days. – Now the candles. - Sweet pastry. Then I used my charm, my handsome figure. – I won the serving-girl over. – Eat without a tablecloth? – No! I've an idea. – The Costituzional! – Excellent paper! You devour the news! – We poisoned a little parsley! Lorito spread his wings, Lorito opened his beak, he took a peck of parsley, and like Socrates, he died! - Who? - Go to the devil, all of you! Now what are you doing? No! These delicacies are the provender for the dark and gloomy days in the future. Do we dine at home on Christmas Eve when the Latin Quarter has decked its streets with eatables? When the perfume of fritters is wafted through the ancient streets? - There, the girls sing happily. - It’s Christmas Eve, and each has a student echoing her! Have some religion, gentlemen. We drink at home, but we dine out. - May I come in? - Who’s there? - Benoit! - The landlord! - Bolt the door. - Nobody's home! - It's locked. - Just one word! - Just one! - Rent. - Here! Give him a chair! - At once! - Don't bother. I'd like... – Be seated. – Something to drink? - Thank you. - A toast! – Drink! – A toast! - This is the bill for three months’ rent - That's fine. – Therefore... – Another drop? - Thank you. - A toast! To your health! I come to you because last quarter you promised me... I promised, and I'll pay. – What are you doing? – Are you crazy? You see? Now then, stay with us a moment. - Tell me: how old are you, dear Monsieur Benoit? - Spare me! - Our age, more or less, I'd say. - Older! Much older. He said more or less. The other evening at Mabil, they caught him making love. - Me? - They caught him at Mabil the other evening. Deny it, then! - An accident! - A lovely woman? - Ah! Very! – You rascal! – Seducer! - He's an oak, a ball of fire! - He's a man of taste. With that curly tawny hair. - You rascal! - How he swaggered, proud and happy! – I'm old but strong. – How he swaggered! Feminine virtue gave in to him. I'm paying myself back now for my shy youth. My pastime, you know, a lively woman, a bit... well, not a whale exactly, or a face like a full moon, but not thin, really thin. No! Thin women are worrisome and often... a nuisance! Always full of complaints... for example... my wife! This man has a wife and foul desires in his heart! Horrors! He corrupts and pollutes our respectable home. - Out with him! - Burn some incense! – Throw out the scoundrel! – Our offended morality expels you! - I say... - Silence! – My dear sirs... - Silence! Out, sir! Away with you! And good evening to your worship! Ah, ah! It looks like I've paid the rent! - In the Latin Quarter, Momus awaits us. - Long life to him who pays! - We’ll divide my loot! - Divide it! Beauties are there, come from above. Now you're rich, be presentable. You bear! Trim your fur. I’ll make my first acquaintance of a beard-trimmer... Lead me to the absurd, outrageous razor. Let's go. I must stay to finish my article for the "Beaver." - Hurry, then! - Five minutes. I know my trade. - We'll wait for you downstairs. - You'll hear from us if you dawdle. - Five minutes. - Cut that Beaver's tail short. - Watch the stairs. Hold on to the railing. - Careful! - It's pitch dark. - That damn janitor! - Hell! - Colline, are you killed? - Not yet! - Come soon. I'm not in the mood. - Who’s there? - Excuse me. - A woman! - I'm sorry, my light has gone out. - Here. - Would you?... - Come in for a moment. - There's no need. Please, come in. You're not well? - No... it's nothing. - You're pale! - I'm just out of breath... it's the stairs... Now what shall I do? So!... How ill she looks! - Are you better now? - Yes. It's so cold here. Come and sit by the fire. Wait. Some wine? - Thank you. – Here. – Just a little. - There. (What a lovely creature!) Now please, relight my candle. I'm better now. - Are you in such a hurry? - Yes. - Thank you. Good evening. - Good evening. Oh! foolish me! Where have I left the key to my room? - Don't stand in the doorway, the wind makes your light flicker. - Heavens! Will you relight it? - There! Now mine's out, too! - Where can my key be? - It's pitch dark! - Unlucky me! - Where can it be? - You’ve a bothersome neighbour. - Not at all. What do you mean? Not at all. - Search. - I'm searching. - Where can it be? - Ah! - Did you find it? - No. - I thought... - Truthfully! - Are you looking for it? - Yes, I am. How cold your little hand is! Let me warm it for you. What’s the use of searching? We'll never find it in the dark. But luckily there's a moon, and she's our neighbour here. Just wait, my dear young lady, and in the meanwhile I’ll tell you who I am, what I do, and how I live. Shall I? Who am I? I'm a poet. What do I do? I write. And how do I live? I live! In my happy poverty, I squander my poems and songs of love like a prince. In hopes and dreams and castles in the air, I'm a millionaire in spirit. Sometimes my strongbox is robbed of all its jewels by two thieves: a pair of pretty eyes. They came in now with you, and all my lovely dreams, my dreams of the past, were soon stolen away. But the theft doesn't upset me, since the empty place was filled with hope. Now that you know me, it’s your turn to speak. Tell me, who are you? Will you tell me? Yes. They call me Mimì, but my real name's Lucia. My story is brief. I embroider silk and satin at home or outside. I'm tranquil and happy, and my pastime is making lilies and roses. I love all things that have gentle magic, that talk of love, of spring, that talk of dreams and fancies, the things called poetry. - Do you understand me? - Yes. They call me Mimì, I don't know why. I live all by myself and I eat alone. I don't often go to church, but I like to pray to the Lord. I stay all alone in my tiny white room, I look at the roofs and the sky. But when spring comes, the sun's first rays are mine. April's first kiss is mine! A rose blossoms in my vase, I breathe its perfume, petal by petal. So sweet is the flower's perfume. But the flowers I make, alas, have no scent. What else can I say? I'm your neighbour, disturbing you at this impossible hour. - Hey! Rodolfo! - Hey! Can't you hear? – You slow-coach! – You scribbler! Lazy boy! I've a few more words to write. - Who are they? - Friends! What are you doing there alone? I'm not alone. There's two of us. Go to Momus and get a table. I'll be there soon. Momus, Momus, quietly we're off. He’s found his poem at last. Oh, lovely girl! Oh, sweet face bathed in the soft moonlight. I see in you the dream I'd dream forever! - Already I taste in spirit - Ah! Love, you rule alone! - the heights of tenderness! - Ah! Love, you rule alone! – I taste in spirit the heights of tenderness! – How sweet his praises enter my heart! – Love trembles in our kiss! – Love, you alone rule! - No, please! - You're mine! - Your friends are waiting. - You send me away already? - I daren't say what I'd like. - Tell me! - What if I came with you? - What? Mimì! It would be so fine to stay here. - It's so cold outside. - I'd be near you! - And when we come back? - Who knows? - Give me your arm, my dear... - Your servant, sir... - Tell me you love me. - I love you! Love! Love! Come, buy my oranges! Fine apples! Look at them! Hot roasted chestnuts! Trinkets and crosses What a racket! Excellent toffee! Chocolate pasties! Fat larks and ortolans! Flower’s for the ladies! So noisy! Hold tight to me, what uproar! Come, let us pass! Dates! Oranges! Coconut milk! Come along! Let’s go! Chaffinches, ortolans, chestnuts all hot! Come along! With the beer! Waiter! A beer! Bring me a drink! Hold tight! Let's run! I want a whip! What a throng! Let's go! Dates, oranges, flowers! This D is out of tune. How much for the horn and the pipe? – It's a little worn... – Let's go! – Are we going to buy the bonnet? But it’s cheap and dignified. – Hold tight to my arm. – I'll hold you tight. - Let's go! - I, too, feel like shouting! Which of you happy girls wants love? - Dates! Trout! - Plums from Tours! - Let us make a bargain together! - Plums from Tours! – For a penny I'll sell my virgin heart. – Pushing and shoving and running, the crowd hastens to its joys, feeling insane desires, unappeased. Trinkets! Brooches! Dates! Ah, flowers to the ladies! A rare find, truly unique: a Runic grammar. - (What an honest fellow!) And Rodolfo? - He went into the milliner's. – Come, my friends are waiting. - Whipped cream! – Is my pink bonnet becoming? Coconut milk! Pies! Whipped cream! Waiter! A glass! - You're dark, so that colour suits you. - Quick. Hey there... Liqueur. That lovely coral necklace. I've a millionaire uncle. If God acts wisely, I'll buy you a necklace much more beautiful... Ah, ah! Let's follow these people! Girls, watch out! Such noise! What a throng! We'll take the Rue Mazarine! I'm stifling, let's go! See, the cafe's right here! Let's go there, to Momus! Knick-knacks, dates, hot roasted chestnuts! Finches, larks! Ah! - Whom are you looking at? – Are you jealous? – (I hate the vulgar herd as Horace did.) The happy man must be suspicious too. And when I'm stuffing myself I want plenty of room about me. – Are you happy? – Oh yes, very. And you? - And you? - Yes, very! - There, to Momus! Let's go! - Quickly! Here are the toys of Parpignol! – Two places. – At last! Here we are! This is Mimì, a happy flower-girl. Her presence alone makes our company complete. For I am the poet, and she is poetry itself. As songs flow from my brain, the flowers bloom in her hands, - and in joyful spirits, love blossoms also. - Ah, Ah! - What rare imagery! - Digna est intrari. - Ingrediat si necessit. - I grant only one accessit. - Here are the toys of Parpignol! - Salami! Parpignol! Here is Parpignol! With his cart all decked with flowers! I want the horn, the toy horse! The drum! The tambourine! I want the cannon; I want the whip, I want the troop of soldiers. Roast venison. A turkey. Rhine wine! Table wine! Shelled lobster! What a bunch of naughty rascals! What are you doing here now? Go home to bed, you noisy things. Slaps will be the least you'll get.. go home to bed, you bunch of rascals, to bed! I want the horn, the toy horse... - What will you have, Mimì? - Some custard. The best. A lady's with us Bravo Parpignol! The drums! The tambourine! A troop of soldiers! Tell me, Mimì, what rare gift has Rodolfo given you? An embroidered pink bonnet, all with lace. It goes well with my dark hair. I've longed for such a bonnet for months, and he read what was hidden in my heart. Anyone who can read the heart's secret knows love, he’s such a reader. He's a professor in the subject. One with diplomas, and his verses are not a beginner’s. That's why what he says seems to be true! Oh, sweet age of false utopias! You hope and believe, and all seems beautiful. The sublimest poem, my friend, is the one which teaches us to love! - Love is sweet, sweeter than honey. - That depends: it's honey or gall! – Heavens! I've offended him! – He's mourning, Mimì! - Cheer up! A toast! - Something to drink! Away with brooding, raise your glass. We’ll drink. - I'll drink some poison! - Oh! Musetta! What! Her! Yes! Well! Her! Musetta! She's done well for herself! What a dress! Running like a porter back and forth... No, it's not proper. – Here, Lulu! I can’t take any more. – (That unfolds fool's all in a lather!) - What? Outside? Here? - Sit, Lulu. Please, save these nicknames for when we're alone. Don't act like Bluebeard! – He’s evil behind that front! – With the chaste Susanna! – She's beautifully dressed. – Angels go naked. - You know her? Who is she? - Ask that question to me. - Her first name is Musetta. - (Marcello has seen me!) - And her last name is Temptation. – (But he won't look at me.) - Her occupation is being a leaf in the wind! - And that Schaunard's laughing! – She's always changing her lovers and her loves. – (They all make me livid!) – Like the screech-owl, she's a bird of prey. – (If I could just hit them! Scratch them!) – Her favourite food is the heart. – (But I've got this old pelican on my hands.) – She devours them! – (Just wait!) - And so I have no heart. - Hey! Waiter! - Pass me the stew. - Hey! Waiter! - This plate smells dirty to me! - No, Musetta! Quiet, now! – (He won't look.) - Quiet, now! – (He won't look.) – To whom are you speaking? - This chicken is a poem! - (Now I'll hit him, I'll hit him!) - Who are you talking to? - To the waiter. Don't be a bore! I want my own way! – I want my own way! I’ll do as I please! – Lower your voice! Don't be a bore! Look, look who it is, Musetta herself! With that stuttering old man, it's Musetta herself! (But could he be jealous of this mummy?) – Let me see if I still have power over him. – Convenience... rank... virtue... - This play is stupendous! - You aren't looking at me? - Can't you see I'm ordering? – This play is stupendous! – Stupendous! Let me tell you now, I'd never be forgiving. - She speaks to one for the other to hear. - I love you so, and I'm all yours.. - And the other, cruel, - Why speak of forgiveness? in vain pretends he is deaf, but enjoys it all. – But your heart is beating like a hammer! – Lower your voice! As I walk alone through the streets, the people stop to look. They inspect my beauty, examining me from head to toe. – Tie me to the chair! – What will those people say? And then I savour the subtle longing in their eyes, when, from my visible charms, they guess at the beauty concealed. This onrush of desire surrounds me, it delights me! This scurrilous song infuriates me! – And you who know, – (I can tell...) – you who remember and suffer, – (...that this poor girl is head over heels in love...) You won't admit that you’re in torment! You won’t admit it, but it's killing you! What will people say? – Marcello loved her once... – Ah, Marcello will give in. – The flirt ran off... – Who knows what will happen? – find a better life. – I'd never land myself in such a situation! – Gods above! – I feel so sorry... ...for the poor girl! – (Ah, Marcello’s going mad!) - Don't speak so loud! – (Marcello is vanquished!) - But she is beautiful, I'm not blind. – I love you! Mimì! – The braggart is about to yield! You won't admit that you’re in torment! You won’t admit it, but it's killing you! I'll do as I please, I'll do as I like, don't be a bore, a bore, a bore! (Now to get rid of the old man.) - Ouch! -What is it? - It hurts! - Where? - My foot! – My youth, you’re still alive, – Loosen it! Untie it! Break it! Tear it! – your memory's not dead! – There's a shoemaker nearby. Run quickly! Run quickly! I want another pair! Ah, how it pinches, this damn tight shoe! - Here it is. Run, go on, run! Hurry, hurry! - Wait! Musetta! I'm going! - (I can see she's madly in love with Marcello.) - (I can see: the play's stupendous!) - Marcello! - Siren! Here's the finale! - The bill! - So soon? - Who asked for it? - Let's see. - It's high! - Out with the money! - Colline, Rodolfo and you, Marcello? - I'm broke! - What? - I've only got thirty sous. - The Tattoo! - What? No more money? - Where's my wealth? Are they coming this way? - Give me my bill. - No! That way! They're coming this way! No, that way! - Good! - Make way! I want to see! I want to hear! Quick, add these two bills together... Lisetta, please be quiet. Tonio, stop that at once! - The gentleman who was with me will pay. - They're coming this way! - When it comes by, we'll march with it! - The gentleman will pay! - And here, where he was sitting, he'll find my farewell! - That drum-roll expresses our country's glory. Make way, make way, here they come! The Guard is coming! Don't let the old fool see us make off with his prize. That crowded throng will be our hiding-place. Here's the drum-major! Prouder than an ancient warrior! - Hurry! Let's run off! - The Sappers, hooray! Here's the drum-major! Like a general! The Tattoo is here! Here he is, the handsome drum-major! The golden baton, all a-glitter! See, he looks at us as he goes past! Bravo Musetta! Artful minx! Glory and honour, the glory and honour of the Latin Quarter! Hey, there! Guards! Open up! We're the sweepers from Gentilly. - It's snowing. Hey! We're freezing here. - I'm coming. Some find pleasure in their cups, and on ardent lips find love. Ah! Pleasure is in the glass! Love lies on young lips. Tra la la la Eve and Noah. - Houp-la! Giddap! - Here come the milkmaids! Butter and cheese! Chickens and eggs! Which way are you going? To Saint Michel! Shall we meet later? Yes, at noon. Excuse me, where’s the tavern where a painter is working? - There it is. - Thank you. Good woman, please, be good enough to find me Marcello, the painter. I must see him quickly. Tell him Mimì’s waiting outside. Hey! that basket! - Empty! - Let him through. - Mimì?! - I hoped I'd find you here. We've been here a month, at the host's expense. Musetta teaches the guests singing, and I paint those warriors by the door there. - It's cold. Come inside. - Is Rodolfo there? - Yes. - I can't go in. No, no! - Why not? - Oh! help me, good Marcello! - What's happened? Rodolfo, he loves me but he flees from me! Rodolfo is torn by jealousy. A glance, a gesture, a smile, a flower arouses his suspicions, then anger, rage. Sometimes at night I pretend to sleep and I feel his eyes trying to spy on my dreams. He shouts at me all the time: 'You're not for me!' 'Find another lover! You're not for me!' Alas! I know it's his jealousy speaking, but what can I answer, Marcello? When two people are like you two, they can't live together. You’re right. We should separate. Help us, Marcello! We've tried again and again, but in vain! Musetta and I don't take each other seriously. We love light-heartedly. - Laughter and song: that’s the secret of a lasting love. - You’re right. We should separate. - Do as you think best. - All right. I'll go and wake him up. - Is he sleeping? He stumbled in here an hour before dawn, and fell asleep on a bench. Take a look. - What a cough! - I've been aching all over since yesterday. He fled during the night, saying: 'It's all over.' I set out at dawn and came here to find you. - He's waking up now. He's looking for me. He's coming! – He mustn't see me. Go home now Mimì. For God's sake, don't cause a scene here! Marcello! At last! No one can hear us here. - I've got to leave Mimì. - Are you as fickle as that? Already once before I thought my heart was dead, but it revived at the gleam of her blue eyes. - Now boredom assails it! - And you'll bury it again? – Forever! – Change your ways! Gloomy love is madness and brews only tears: if it doesn't laugh and glow, love has no strength or voice. - You're jealous! - A little. You're raving mad, a mass of suspicions, a boor, a mule! (He'll make him angry. Poor me!) Mimì's just a flirt toying with them all. A foppish Viscount eyes her with longing. She shows him her ankles, promising, luring him on. Must I tell you? You aren't being honest. All right, then. I'm not. I try in vain to hide what really torments me. I love Mimì! More than the world, I love her! But I'm afraid! The poor little thing is doomed! Mimì is terribly ill, she gets weaker every day. – Mimì? - (What does he mean?) A horrible coughing racks her fragile chest, her pale cheeks are flushed with blood. - Poor Mimì! - (Am I dying? Alas!) My room’s like a cave. The fire has gone out. The winter wind roars through it. She laughs and sings. I'm seized with remorse. I'm the cause of the illness that's killing her. - What's to be done? - (Oh! my life!) – Mimì's a hothouse flower. – (It's over!) – Poor thing! She's blighted by poverty. To bring her back to life, love’s not enough. – (Oh! my life! It's over!) – Poor thing! Poor Mimì! - What, Mimì? You're here? You heard me? – So she was listening. I'm easily frightened, worked up over nothing. Come inside where it's warm. - No, It's too stuffy, I'd suffocate. - Ah, Mimì! That's Musetta laughing. But with whom? The flirt! I'll teach her. - Goodbye. - What? You're going? Back to the place I left at the call of your love. I'm going back alone to my lonely nest. I'm going back again to make false flowers. Goodbye, no hard feelings. But listen, please gather up the few things I've left behind. In the trunk, there's the little bracelet, and my prayer book. Wrap them in an apron and I'll send someone for them. Wait! Under the pillow, there’s my pink bonnet. If you want, keep it in memory of our love. Goodbye, no hard feelings. So it's really over. You're leaving, my little one? - Goodbye to our dreams of love! - Goodbye to our sweet mornings lying awake! – Goodbye, life within a dream... – Goodbye, doubts and jealousies! ...that one smile of yours could dispel. – Goodbye, suspicions! – Kisses... - Poignant bitterness! - ...that, like a poet, I made rhyme with caress. To be alone in winter is death! But when the spring comes, the sun is our companion! – (What were you doing with that man by the fire?) – (What do you mean?) - Nobody’s lonely in April. - When I came in, you blushed! The man was asking me: 'Do you like dancing, Miss?' – One can speak to roses and lilies – Vain, empty-headed flirt! I answered: 'I could dance day and night!' Birds twitter softly in their nests. - That speech conceals infamous desires! - I want my freedom. I'll teach you a lesson! If I catch you flirting! With the coming of spring the sun is our companion! I can't stand lovers... who act just like husbands! The fountains whisper, the evening breeze heals every human pain. Goodbye! Shall we wait until spring comes again? - You house-painter! - Viper! - Toad! - Witch! I'll always be yours, for all my life. We'll part when the flowers bloom. I wish that winter would last forever! We'll part when the flowers bloom! - In a coupé? - With footmen and horses! She greeted me, laughing. 'So, Musetta,' I asked, 'your heart?' 'It doesn't beat, at least I don't feel it, thanks to the velvet that covers it.' - I'm glad! Really glad! - (Go on faking it! You're laughing and fretting inside.) Not beating? Good! - I also saw... - Musetta? - ...Mimì! - You saw her? - Really? - She was in a carriage, dressed like a queen. - That's fine. I'm delighted. - (Liar! Love's consuming you!) - Let's get to work. - Yes, to work. - This pen is terrible! - So is this brush! O Mimì, you won't return! O lovely days! Those tiny hands, those sweet-smelling locks. - I don't understand how my brush works... - snowy neck... – ...and mixes colours to spite me. – Ah! Mimì! My short-lived youth! No matter if I want to paint earth or sky, spring or winter, the brush instead outlines two dark eyes and an inviting pair of lips, and Musetta's face appears. – And you, little pink bonnet that she hid... – Her face appears, so lovely and so false. - you know all our joys. - Meanwhile Musetta is happy. – Come to my heart, – My cowardly heart calls her. – my heart that died when our love died! – It calls and waits for her! - What time is it? - Time for yesterday's dinner! - And Schaunard's not back. – Here we are. – Well? – Just bread? – A dish worthy of Demosthenes! - A salted herring. - Dinner is served. - This is like a feast day in wonderland. Now let's put the champagne on ice! - Which do you choose, Baron? Salmon or trout? - Well, Duke, how about some parrot-tongue? Thanks, but it's fattening, and I must dance this evening. - Full already? - I'm in a hurry. The King is waiting for me. - Is there some plot? - Some mystery? - The King has asked me to join his Cabinet. - Fine! - So I'll be off to see Guizot! - Pass me the goblet. - Here, drink. I'll eat! - By the leave of this noble company... – Enough! - Weakling! - What a concoction! - Get out of here! - The goblet, please! - I'm irresistibly inspired by the Muse of poetry! - No! - Something choreographic then? - Yes! - Dance with vocal accompaniment! - Let the hall be cleared. - A gavotte. - Minuet. - Pavane. - Fandango! - I suggest the quadrille. - Take your lady's arm. - I'll call the figures. - La lera la lera la! - Lovely maiden... - Respect my modesty, I beg you! - La lera la lera la! - Balancez. - The Rond comes first. - No, damn it! - What boorish manners! - You're provoking me, I believe! Draw your sword! Ready. Lay on! - I'll drink your blood! - One of us will be run through! - Have a stretcher ready! - And a graveyard, too! While the battle rages, the dancers circle and leap! - Musetta! - It's Mimì’s, she's coming and she's ill. - Where is she? - She doesn't have the strength to climb all the stairs. - We’ll move the bed closer. - Here, drink this. - Rodolfo! - Rest now. Don't speak. - Oh, my Rodolfo! Do you want me here with you? - Ah! My Mimì! Always, always! I heard Mimì had fled from the Viscount and was dying. Where was she? I looked everywhere for her. Just now I saw her in the street stumbling along. She said: 'I can't last long, I know I'm dying, but I want to die with him! Perhaps he's waiting for me.' I feel much better. - 'Please take me to him, Musetta?' - Let me look around. How wonderful it is here. I'll recover, I will! – I feel life here again! – Beloved lips! – You won’t leave me ever. – Your lips speak to me again! – What do you have in the house? No coffee? No wine? - Nothing. Only poverty. - She'll be dead within half an hour! I'm so cold! If only I had a muff! Won't these hands of mine ever be warm? - Here, put them in mine. Don’t speak, you'll tire yourself. - It's just a little cough. I'm used to it. Hello, Marcello. Schaunard, Colline, hello. - All of you are here, smiling at Mimì. - Don't speak, don't. I'll speak softly, don't worry. Marcello, believe me, Musetta is so good. I know, I know... Here, sell these. Bring back some cordial and send for a doctor. - Get some rest now. - You won't leave me? - No, never! Listen! Perhaps it's the poor girl's last request. - I'll get the muff. I'm coming with you. - How good you are, Musetta. Listen, my venerable coat, I'm staying behind, but you'll go on to greater heights. I give you my thanks. You never bowed your worn-out back to the rich or powerful. Your pockets have been like tranquil caves for the hands of poets and philosophers. Now that those happy times have fled, I bid you farewell, my faithful old friend. Schaunard, let's each do an act of kindness. Mine is this. And yours? Leave the two of them alone! Philosopher, you're right! I'll get going. Have they gone? I pretended to sleep, because I wanted to be alone with you. I've so many things to tell you, or only one thing that's as huge as the sea. As deep and infinite as the sea, I love you! You're all my life! Ah, Mimì! My beautiful Mimì! - Am I really still beautiful? - As beautiful as a sunrise! Your imagery is wrong. You should have said: 'As beautiful as a sunset.' 'They call me Mimì but I don't know why.' The swallow has come back to her nest to twitter. My bonnet! Ah! Do you remember when I came here for the first time? - Do I remember?! - The light had gone out. - You were so upset. Then you lost your key. - And you knelt to hunt for it! I searched and searched. My dear sir, now I can tell you: I know that you found it! - I was simply giving fate a helping hand. - It was dark so you couldn't see me blushing. 'How cold your little hand is, let me warm it for you!' It was dark. You took my hand in yours. Good God! Mimì! - What's wrong? - Nothing. I'm fine. - Please, don't talk. - Yes, yes forgive me. Now I'll be good. – Is she sleeping? – She's resting. I saw the doctor. He’s coming, I made him hurry. Here's the cordial. - Who's speaking? - Me, Musetta. Oh, how lovely and soft it is. My hands will no longer be all ugly and cold. The warmth will heal them. - Did you give it to me? - Yes, he did. You spendthrift! Thank you, but the cost. Are you crying? I feel fine! Why are you crying like this? Here, my love... with you always... My hands... the warmth... to sleep... - What did the doctor say? - He's coming. Oh, Blessed Mother, be merciful to this poor child who doesn't deserve to die. We need a screen here, the candle's flickering. Let her get well, Holy Mother. I know I'm unworthy of forgiveness, but Mimì is an angel come down from heaven. - I still have hope. You think it's serious? - I don't think so. Marcello, she's dead! Musetta, take this. - How is she? - As you see, she's resting. What does this mean, all this going back and forth? - Why are you looking at me like this? - Have courage! Mimì! Mimì!