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Michael Bakunin, tired of living in poverty in Moscow and jealous of
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Your own life you have wasted at every turn, and sponged off friends and strangers until your name is a byword for bad faith and discounted bills. You have poisoned your sisters� minds with liberal sophistries dressed up as idealism.
[... …]
I’ll be damned if I pay for any more of your wilfulness. You will not go to Berlin. That is my last word.
For full extended monologue, please see the edition cited here: Stoppard, Tom. The Coast of Utopia: Voyage. Act 1, “Spring 1838.� 2002.
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