... you can talk all night.
"The twelfth of May, 1796, in north Italy, at Tavazzano, on the road from Lodi to Milan. The afternoon sun is blazing serenely over the plains of Lombardy, treating the Alps with respect and the anthills with indulgence, not incommoded by the basking of the swine and oxen in the villages nor hurt by its cool reception in the churches, but fiercely disdainful of two hordes of mischievous insects which are the French and Austrian armies...."
ADDED: The play is "The Man of Destiny" by George Bernard Shaw (at The American Players Theater in Spring Green). There's another performance today at 1 pm, and I see one ticket available. There are 2 more performances, one of which is currently sold out and another, on the 28th — also a matinee — that has one ticket available. The "man of destiny" is Napoleon. As the play begins, Napoleon will be sitting at that table...
NAPOLEON (intent on his map, but cramming himself [with food] mechanically with his left hand). Don't talk. I'm busy.What? No Sharpie?
GIUSEPPE (with perfect goodhumor). Excellency: I obey.
NAPOLEON. Some red ink.
GIUSEPPE. Alas! excellency, there is none.
NAPOLEON (with Corsican facetiousness). Kill something and bring me its blood.
GIUSEPPE (grinning). There is nothing but your excellency's horse, the sentinel, the lady upstairs, and my wife.
NAPOLEON. Kill your wife.
GIUSEPPE. Willingly, your excellency; but unhappily I am not strong enough. She would kill me.
NAPOLEON. That will do equally well.
GIUSEPPE. Your excellency does me too much honor. (Stretching his hand toward the flask.) Perhaps some wine will answer your excellency's purpose.
NAPOLEON (hastily protecting the flask, and becoming quite serious). Wine! No: that would be waste. You are all the same: waste! waste! waste! (He marks the map with gravy, using his fork as a pen.)