Boris Godunov

DRAMATIS PERSONAE


 * BORIS GODUNOV, afterwards Tsar.
 * PRINCE SHUISKY, Russian noble.
 * PRINCE VOROTINSKY, Russian noble.
 * SHCHELKALOV, Russian Minister of State.
 * FATHER PIMEN, an old monk and chronicler.
 * GREGORY OTREPIEV, a young monk, afterwards THE PRETENDER to the throne of Russia.
 * THE PATRIARCH, Abbot of the Chudov Monastery.
 * MISSAIL, wandering friar.
 * VARLAAM, wandering friar.
 * ATHANASIUS MIKAILOVICH PUSHKIN, friend of Prince Shuisky.
 * FEODOR, young son of Boris Godunov.
 * SEMYON NIKITICH GODUNOV, secret agent of Boris Godunov.
 * GABRIEL PUSHKIN, nephew of A. M. Pushkin.
 * PRINCE KURBSKY, disgraced Russian noble.
 * KHRUSHCHOV, disgraced Russian noble.
 * KARELA, a Cossack.
 * PRINCE VISHNEVETSKY.
 * MNISHEK, Governor of Sambor.
 * BASMANOV, a Russian officer.
 * MARZHERET, officer of the Pretender.
 * ROZEN, officer of the Pretender.
 * DIMITRY, the Pretender, formerly Gregory Otrepiev.
 * MOSALSKY, a Boyar.
 * KSENIA, daughter of Boris Godunov.
 * NURSE of Ksenia.
 * MARINA, daughter of Mnishek.
 * ROUZYA, tire-woman of Ksenia.
 * HOSTESS of tavern.

Boyars, The People, Inspectors, Officers, Attendants, Guests, a Boy in attendance on Prince Shuisky, a Catholic Priest, a Polish Noble, a Poet, an Idiot, a Beggar, Gentlemen, Peasants, Guards, Russian, Polish, and German Soldiers, a Russian Prisoner of War, Boys, an old Woman, Ladies, Serving-women.

original has been added for the convenience of the reader--A.H. [Translator]
 * The list of Dramatis Personae which does not appear in the

PALACE OF THE KREMLIN

 * (FEBRUARY 20th, A.D. 1598)
 * PRINCE SHUISKY and VOROTINSKY
 * VOROTINSKY. To keep the city's peace, that is the task
 * Entrusted to us twain, but you forsooth
 * Have little need to watch; Moscow is empty;
 * The people to the Monastery have flocked
 * After the patriarch. What thinkest thou?
 * How will this trouble end?
 * SHUISKY.                How will it end?
 * That is not hard to tell. A little more
 * The multitude will groan and wail, Boris
 * Pucker awhile his forehead, like a toper
 * Eyeing a glass of wine, and in the end
 * Will humbly of his graciousness consent
 * To take the crown; and then--and then will rule us
 * Just as before.
 * VOROTINSKY.  A month has flown already
 * Since, cloistered with his sister, he forsook
 * The world's affairs. None hitherto hath shaken
 * His purpose, not the patriarch, not the boyars
 * His counselors; their tears, their prayers he heeds not;
 * Deaf is he to the wail of Moscow, deaf
 * To the Great Council's voice; vainly they urged
 * The sorrowful nun-queen to consecrate
 * Boris to sovereignty; firm was his sister,
 * Inexorable as he; methinks Boris
 * Inspired her with this spirit. What if our ruler
 * Be sick in very deed of cares of state
 * And hath no strength to mount the throne? What
 * Say'st thou?
 * SHUISKY. I say that in that case the blood in vain
 * Flowed of the young tsarevich, that Dimitry
 * Might just as well be living.
 * VOROTINSKY.                Fearful crime!
 * Is it beyond all doubt Boris contrived
 * The young boy's murder?
 * SHUISKY.             Who besides? Who else
 * Bribed Chepchugov in vain? Who sent in secret
 * The brothers Bityagovsky with Kachalov?
 * Myself was sent to Uglich, there to probe
 * This matter on the spot; fresh traces there
 * I found; the whole town bore witness to the crime;
 * With one accord the burghers all affirmed it;
 * And with a single word, when I returned,
 * I could have proved the secret villain's guilt.
 * VOROTINSKY. Why didst thou then not crush him?
 * SHUISKY.                       At the time,
 * I do confess, his unexpected calmness,
 * His shamelessness, dismayed me. Honestly
 * He looked me in the eyes; he questioned me
 * Closely, and I repeated to his face
 * The foolish tale himself had whispered to me.
 * VOROTINSKY. An ugly business, prince.
 * SHUISKY.                   What could I do?
 * Declare all to Feodor? But the tsar
 * Saw all things with the eyes of Godunov.
 * Heard all things with the ears of Godunov;
 * Grant even that I might have fully proved it,
 * Boris would have denied it there and then,
 * And I should have been haled away to prison,
 * And in good time--like mine own uncle--strangled
 * Within the silence of some deaf-walled dungeon.
 * I boast not when I say that, given occasion,
 * No penalty affrights me. I am no coward,
 * But also am no fool, and do not choose
 * Of my free will to walk into a halter.
 * VOROTINSKY. Monstrous misdeed! Listen; I warrant you
 * Remorse already gnaws the murderer;
 * Be sure the blood of that same innocent child
 * Will hinder him from mounting to the throne.
 * SHUISKY. That will not baulk him; Boris is not so timid!
 * What honour for ourselves, ay, for all Russia!
 * A slave of yesterday, a Tartar, son
 * By marriage of Maliuta, of a hangman,
 * Himself in soul a hangman, he to wear
 * The crown and robe of Monomakh!--
 * VOROTINSKY.                  You are right;
 * He is of lowly birth; we twain can boast
 * A nobler lineage.
 * SHUISKY.       Indeed we may!
 * VOROTINSKY. Let us remember, Shuisky, Vorotinsky
 * Are, let me say, born princes.
 * SHUISKY.                    Yea, born princes,
 * And of the blood of Rurik.
 * VOROTINSKY.             Listen, prince;
 * Then we, 'twould seem, should have the right to mount
 * Feodor's throne.
 * SHUISKY.      Rather than Godunov.
 * VOROTINSKY. In very truth 'twould seem so.
 * SHUISKY.                     And what then?
 * If still Boris pursue his crafty ways,
 * Let us contrive by skilful means to rouse
 * The people. Let them turn from Godunov;
 * Princes they have in plenty of their own;
 * Let them from out their number choose a tsar.
 * VOROTINSKY. Of us, Varyags in blood, there are full many,
 * But 'tis no easy thing for us to vie
 * With Godunov; the people are not wont
 * To recognise in us an ancient branch
 * Of their old warlike masters; long already
 * Have we our appanages forfeited,
 * Long served but as lieutenants of the tsars,
 * And he hath known, by fear, and love, and glory,
 * How to bewitch the people.
 * SHUISKY. (Looking through a window.) He has dared,
 * That's all--while we--Enough of this. Thou seest
 * Dispersedly the people are returning.
 * We'll go forthwith and learn what is resolved.
 * VOROTINSKY. In very truth 'twould seem so.
 * SHUISKY.                     And what then?
 * If still Boris pursue his crafty ways,
 * Let us contrive by skilful means to rouse
 * The people. Let them turn from Godunov;
 * Princes they have in plenty of their own;
 * Let them from out their number choose a tsar.
 * VOROTINSKY. Of us, Varyags in blood, there are full many,
 * But 'tis no easy thing for us to vie
 * With Godunov; the people are not wont
 * To recognise in us an ancient branch
 * Of their old warlike masters; long already
 * Have we our appanages forfeited,
 * Long served but as lieutenants of the tsars,
 * And he hath known, by fear, and love, and glory,
 * How to bewitch the people.
 * SHUISKY. (Looking through a window.) He has dared,
 * That's all--while we--Enough of this. Thou seest
 * Dispersedly the people are returning.
 * We'll go forthwith and learn what is resolved.
 * SHUISKY. (Looking through a window.) He has dared,
 * That's all--while we--Enough of this. Thou seest
 * Dispersedly the people are returning.
 * We'll go forthwith and learn what is resolved.

THE RED SQUARE

 * THE PEOPLE
 * 1ST PERSON. He is inexorable! He thrust from him
 * Prelates, boyars, and Patriarch; in vain
 * Prostrate they fall; the splendour of the throne
 * Affrights him.
 * 2ND PERSON. O, my God, who is to rule us?
 * O, woe to us!
 * 3RD PERSON. See! The Chief Minister
 * Is coming out to tell us what the Council
 * Has now resolved.
 * THE PEOPLE.    Silence! Silence! He speaks,
 * The Minister of State. Hush, hush! Give ear!
 * SHCHELKALOV. (From the Red Balcony.)
 * The Council have resolved for the last time
 * To put to proof the power of supplication
 * Upon our ruler's mournful soul. At dawn,
 * After a solemn service in the Kremlin,
 * The blessed Patriarch will go, preceded
 * By sacred banners, with the holy ikons
 * Of Donsky and Vladimir; with him go
 * The Council, courtiers, delegates, boyars,
 * And all the orthodox folk of Moscow; all
 * Will go to pray once more the queen to pity
 * Fatherless Moscow, and to consecrate
 * Boris unto the crown. Now to your homes
 * Go ye in peace: pray; and to Heaven shall rise
 * The heart's petition of the orthodox.
 * (The PEOPLE disperse.)
 * Will go to pray once more the queen to pity
 * Fatherless Moscow, and to consecrate
 * Boris unto the crown. Now to your homes
 * Go ye in peace: pray; and to Heaven shall rise
 * The heart's petition of the orthodox.
 * (The PEOPLE disperse.)
 * (The PEOPLE disperse.)

THE VIRGIN'S FIELD. THE NEW NUNNERY

 * The People.
 * 1ST PERSON. To plead with the tsaritsa in her cell
 * Now are they gone. Thither have gone Boris,
 * The Patriarch, and a host of boyars.
 * 2ND PERSON.                       What news?
 * 3RD PERSON. Still is he obdurate; yet there is hope.
 * PEASANT WOMAN. (With a child.)
 * Drat you! Stop crying, or else the bogie-man
 * Will carry you off. Drat you, drat you! Stop crying!
 * 1ST PERSON. Can't we slip through behind the fence?
 * 2ND PERSON.                        Impossible!
 * No chance at all! Not only is the nunnery
 * Crowded; the precincts too are crammed with people.
 * Look what a sight! All Moscow has thronged here.
 * See! Fences, roofs, and every single storey
 * Of the Cathedral bell tower, the church-domes,
 * The very crosses are studded thick with people.
 * 1ST PERSON. A goodly sight indeed!
 * 2ND PERSON.                    What is that noise?
 * 3RD PERSON. Listen! What noise is that?--The people groaned;
 * See there! They fall like waves, row upon row--
 * Again--again-- Now, brother, 'tis our turn;
 * Be quick, down on your knees!
 * THE PEOPLE. (On their knees, groaning and wailing.)
 * Have pity on us,
 * Our father! O, rule over us! O, be
 * Father to us, and tsar!
 * 1ST PERSON. (Sotto voce.) Why are they wailing?
 * 2ND PERSON. How can we know? The boyars know well enough.
 * It's not our business.
 * PEASANT WOMAN. (With child.)
 * Now, what's this? Just when
 * It ought to cry, the child stops crying. I'll show you!
 * Here comes the bogie-man! Cry, cry, you spoilt one!
 * (Throws it on the ground; the child screams.)
 * That's right, that's right!
 * 1ST PERSON.              As everyone is crying,
 * We also, brother, will begin to cry.
 * 2ND PERSON. Brother, I try my best, but can't.
 * 1ST PERSON.                            Nor I.
 * Have you not got an onion?
 * 2ND PERSON.             No; I'll wet
 * My eyes with spittle. What's up there now?
 * 1ST PERSON.                     Who knows
 * What's going on?
 * THE PEOPLE.   The crown for him! He is tsar!
 * He has yielded!--Boris!--Our tsar!--Long live Boris!
 * Here comes the bogie-man! Cry, cry, you spoilt one!
 * (Throws it on the ground; the child screams.)
 * That's right, that's right!
 * 1ST PERSON.              As everyone is crying,
 * We also, brother, will begin to cry.
 * 2ND PERSON. Brother, I try my best, but can't.
 * 1ST PERSON.                            Nor I.
 * Have you not got an onion?
 * 2ND PERSON.             No; I'll wet
 * My eyes with spittle. What's up there now?
 * 1ST PERSON.                     Who knows
 * What's going on?
 * THE PEOPLE.   The crown for him! He is tsar!
 * He has yielded!--Boris!--Our tsar!--Long live Boris!
 * 1ST PERSON.                     Who knows
 * What's going on?
 * THE PEOPLE.   The crown for him! He is tsar!
 * He has yielded!--Boris!--Our tsar!--Long live Boris!
 * THE PEOPLE.   The crown for him! He is tsar!
 * He has yielded!--Boris!--Our tsar!--Long live Boris!

THE PALACE OF THE KREMLIN

 * BORIS, PATRIARCH, Boyars
 * BORIS. Thou, father Patriarch, all ye boyars!
 * My soul lies bare before you; ye have seen
 * With what humility and fear I took
 * This mighty power upon me. Ah! How heavy
 * My weight of obligation! I succeed
 * The great Ivans; succeed the angel tsar!--
 * O Righteous Father, King Of kings, look down
 * From Heaven upon the tears of Thy true servants,
 * And send on him whom Thou hast loved, whom Thou
 * Exalted hast on earth so wondrously,
 * Thy holy blessing. May I rule my people
 * In glory, and like Thee be good and righteous!
 * To you, boyars, I look for help. Serve me
 * As ye served him, what time I shared your labours,
 * Ere I was chosen by the people's will.
 * BOYARS. We will not from our plighted oath depart.
 * BORIS. Now let us go to kneel before the tombs
 * Of Russia's great departed rulers. Then
 * Bid summon all our people to a feast,
 * All, from the noble to the poor blind beggar.
 * To all free entrance, all most welcome guests.
 * (Exit, the Boyars following.)
 * PRINCE VOROTINSKY. (Stopping Shuisky.)
 * You rightly guessed.
 * SHUISKY.          Guessed what?
 * VOROTINSKY.               Why, you remember--
 * The other day, here on this very spot.
 * SHUISKY. No, I remember nothing.
 * VOROTINSKY.                   When the people
 * Flocked to the Virgin's Field, thou said'st--
 * SHUISKY.                          'Tis not
 * The time for recollection. There are times
 * When I should counsel you not to remember,
 * But even to forget. And for the rest,
 * I sought but by feigned calumny to prove thee,
 * The truelier to discern thy secret thoughts.
 * But see! The people hail the tsar--my absence
 * May be remarked. I'll join them.
 * VOROTINSKY.                   Wily courtier!
 * Flocked to the Virgin's Field, thou said'st--
 * SHUISKY.                          'Tis not
 * The time for recollection. There are times
 * When I should counsel you not to remember,
 * But even to forget. And for the rest,
 * I sought but by feigned calumny to prove thee,
 * The truelier to discern thy secret thoughts.
 * But see! The people hail the tsar--my absence
 * May be remarked. I'll join them.
 * VOROTINSKY.                   Wily courtier!
 * VOROTINSKY.                   Wily courtier!
 * VOROTINSKY.                   Wily courtier!

NIGHT. A CELL IN THE CHUDOV MONASTERY

 * (A.D. 1603)
 * FATHER PIMEN, GREGORY (sleeping)
 * PIMEN (Writing in front of a sacred lamp.)
 * One more, the final record, and my annals
 * Are ended, and fulfilled the duty laid
 * By God on me a sinner. Not in vain
 * Hath God appointed me for many years
 * A witness, teaching me the art of letters;
 * A day will come when some laborious monk
 * Will bring to light my zealous, nameless toil,
 * Kindle, as I, his lamp, and from the parchment
 * Shaking the dust of ages will transcribe
 * My true narrations, that posterity
 * The bygone fortunes of the orthodox
 * Of their own land may learn, will mention make
 * Of their great tsars, their labours, glory, goodness--
 * And humbly for their sins, their evil deeds,
 * Implore the Saviour's mercy.--In old age
 * I live anew; the past unrolls before me.--
 * Did it in years long vanished sweep along,
 * Full of events, and troubled like the deep?
 * Now it is hushed and tranquil. Few the faces
 * Which memory hath saved for me, and few
 * The words which have come down to me;--the rest
 * Have perished, never to return.--But day
 * Draws near, the lamp burns low, one record more,
 * The last. (He writes.)
 * GREGORY. (Waking.) Ever the selfsame dream! Is 't possible?
 * For the third time! Accursed dream! And ever
 * Before the lamp sits the old man and writes--
 * And not all night, 'twould seem, from drowsiness,
 * Hath closed his eyes. I love the peaceful sight,
 * When, with his soul deep in the past immersed,
 * He keeps his chronicle. Oft have I longed
 * To guess what 'tis he writes of. Is 't perchance
 * The dark dominion of the Tartars? Is it
 * Ivan's grim punishments, the stormy Council
 * of Novgorod? Is it about the glory
 * Of our dear fatherland?--I ask in vain!
 * Not on his lofty brow, nor in his looks
 * May one peruse his secret thoughts; always
 * The same aspect; lowly at once, and lofty--
 * Like some state Minister grown grey in office,
 * Calmly alike he contemplates the just
 * And guilty, with indifference he hears
 * Evil and good, and knows not wrath nor pity.
 * PIMEN. Wakest thou, brother?
 * GREGORY.            Honoured father, give me
 * Thy blessing.
 * PIMEN.     May God bless thee on this day,
 * Tomorrow, and for ever.
 * GREGORY.             All night long
 * Thou hast been writing and abstained from sleep,
 * While demon visions have disturbed my peace,
 * The fiend molested me. I dreamed I scaled
 * By winding stairs a turret, from whose height
 * Moscow appeared an anthill, where the people
 * Seethed in the squares below and pointed at me
 * With laughter. Shame and terror came upon me--
 * And falling headlong, I awoke. Three times
 * I dreamed the selfsame dream. Is it not strange?
 * PIMEN. 'Tis the young blood at play; humble thyself
 * By prayer and fasting, and thy slumber's visions
 * Will all be filled with lightness. Hitherto
 * If I, unwillingly by drowsiness
 * Weakened, make not at night long orisons,
 * My old-man's sleep is neither calm nor sinless;
 * Now riotous feasts appear, now camps of war,
 * Scuffles of battle, fatuous diversions
 * Of youthful years.
 * GREGORY.        How joyfully didst thou
 * Live out thy youth! The fortress of Kazan
 * Thou fought'st beneath, with Shuisky didst repulse
 * The army of Litva. Thou hast seen the court,
 * And splendour of Ivan. Ah! Happy thou!
 * Whilst I, from boyhood up, a wretched monk,
 * Wander from cell to cell! Why unto me
 * Was it not given to play the game of war,
 * To revel at the table of a tsar?
 * Then, like to thee, would I in my old age
 * Have gladly from the noisy world withdrawn,
 * To vow myself a dedicated monk,
 * And in the quiet cloister end my days.
 * PIMEN. Complain not, brother, that the sinful world
 * Thou early didst forsake, that few temptations
 * The All-Highest sent to thee. Believe my words;
 * The glory of the world, its luxury,
 * Woman's seductive love, seen from afar,
 * Enslave our souls. Long have I lived, have taken
 * Delight in many things, but never knew
 * True bliss until that season when the Lord
 * Guided me to the cloister. Think, my son,
 * On the great tsars; who loftier than they?
 * God only. Who dares thwart them? None. What then?
 * Often the golden crown became to them
 * A burden; for a cowl they bartered it.
 * The tsar Ivan sought in monastic toil
 * Tranquility; his palace, filled erewhile
 * With haughty minions, grew to all appearance
 * A monastery; the very rakehells seemed
 * Obedient monks, the terrible tsar appeared
 * A pious abbot. Here, in this very cell
 * (At that time Cyril, the much suffering,
 * A righteous man, dwelt in it; even me
 * God then made comprehend the nothingness
 * Of worldly vanities), here I beheld,
 * Weary of angry thoughts and executions,
 * The tsar; among us, meditative, quiet
 * Here sat the Terrible; we motionless
 * Stood in his presence, while he talked with us
 * In tranquil tones. Thus spake he to the abbot
 * And all the brothers: "My fathers, soon will come
 * The longed-for day; here shall I stand before you,
 * Hungering for salvation; Nicodemus,
 * Thou Sergius, Cyril thou, will all accept
 * My spiritual vow; to you I soon shall come
 * Accurst in sin, here the clean habit take,
 * Prostrate, most holy father, at thy feet."
 * So spake the sovereign lord, and from his lips
 * Sweetly the accents flowed. He wept; and we
 * With tears prayed God to send His love and peace
 * Upon his suffering and stormy soul.--
 * What of his son Feodor? On the throne
 * He sighed to lead the life of calm devotion.
 * The royal chambers to a cell of prayer
 * He turned, wherein the heavy cares of state
 * Vexed not his holy soul. God grew to love
 * The tsar's humility; in his good days
 * Russia was blest with glory undisturbed,
 * And in the hour of his decease was wrought
 * A miracle unheard of; at his bedside,
 * Seen by the tsar alone, appeared a being
 * Exceeding bright, with whom Feodor 'gan
 * To commune, calling him great Patriarch;--
 * And all around him were possessed with fear,
 * Musing upon the vision sent from Heaven,
 * Since at that time the Patriarch was not present
 * In church before the tsar. And when he died
 * The palace was with holy fragrance filled.
 * And like the sun his countenance outshone.
 * Never again shall we see such a tsar.--
 * O, horrible, appalling woe! We have sinned,
 * We have angered God; we have chosen for our ruler
 * A tsar's assassin.
 * GREGORY.        Honoured father, long
 * Have I desired to ask thee of the death
 * Of young Dimitry, the tsarevich; thou,
 * 'Tis said, wast then at Uglich.
 * PIMEN.                       Ay, my son,
 * I well remember. God it was who led me
 * To witness that ill deed, that bloody sin.
 * I at that time was sent to distant Uglich
 * Upon some mission. I arrived at night.
 * Next morning, at the hour of holy mass,
 * I heard upon a sudden a bell toll;
 * 'Twas the alarm bell. Then a cry, an uproar;
 * Men rushing to the court of the tsaritsa.
 * Thither I haste, and there had flocked already
 * All Uglich. There I see the young tsarevich
 * Lie slaughtered: the queen mother in a swoon
 * Bowed over him, his nurse in her despair
 * Wailing; and then the maddened people drag
 * The godless, treacherous nurse away. Appears
 * Suddenly in their midst, wild, pale with rage,
 * Judas Bityagovsky. "There, there's the villain!"
 * Shout on all sides the crowd, and in a trice
 * He was no more. Straightway the people rushed
 * On the three fleeing murderers; they seized
 * The hiding miscreants and led them up
 * To the child's corpse yet warm; when lo! A marvel--
 * The dead child all at once began to tremble!
 * "Confess!" the people thundered; and in terror
 * Beneath the axe the villains did confess--
 * And named Boris.
 * GREGORY.      How many summers lived
 * The murdered boy?
 * PIMEN.         Seven summers; he would now
 * (Since then have passed ten years--nay, more--twelve years)
 * He would have been of equal age to thee,
 * And would have reigned; but God deemed otherwise.
 * This is the lamentable tale wherewith
 * My chronicle doth end; since then I little
 * Have dipped in worldly business. Brother Gregory,
 * Thou hast illumed thy mind by earnest study;
 * To thee I hand my task. In hours exempt
 * From the soul's exercise, do thou record,
 * Not subtly reasoning, all things whereto
 * Thou shalt in life be witness; war and peace,
 * The sway of kings, the holy miracles
 * Of saints, all prophecies and heavenly signs;--
 * For me 'tis time to rest and quench my lamp.--
 * But hark! The matin bell. Bless, Lord, Thy servants!
 * Give me my crutch.
 * (Exit.)
 * GREGORY.        Boris, Boris, before thee
 * All tremble; none dares even to remind thee
 * Of what befell the hapless child; meanwhile
 * Here in dark cell a hermit doth indite
 * Thy stern denunciation. Thou wilt not
 * Escape the judgment even of this world,
 * As thou wilt not escape the doom of God.
 * Not subtly reasoning, all things whereto
 * Thou shalt in life be witness; war and peace,
 * The sway of kings, the holy miracles
 * Of saints, all prophecies and heavenly signs;--
 * For me 'tis time to rest and quench my lamp.--
 * But hark! The matin bell. Bless, Lord, Thy servants!
 * Give me my crutch.
 * (Exit.)
 * GREGORY.        Boris, Boris, before thee
 * All tremble; none dares even to remind thee
 * Of what befell the hapless child; meanwhile
 * Here in dark cell a hermit doth indite
 * Thy stern denunciation. Thou wilt not
 * Escape the judgment even of this world,
 * As thou wilt not escape the doom of God.
 * Escape the judgment even of this world,
 * As thou wilt not escape the doom of God.

FENCE OF THE MONASTERY*

 * This scene was omitted by Pushkin from the published version of
 * the play. [Note from translator]
 * GREGORY and a Wicked Monk
 * GREGORY. O, what a weariness is our poor life,
 * What misery! Day comes, day goes, and ever
 * Is seen, is heard one thing alone; one sees
 * Only black cassocks, only hears the bell.
 * Yawning by day you wander, wander, nothing
 * To do; you doze; the whole night long till daylight
 * The poor monk lies awake; and when in sleep
 * You lose yourself, black dreams disturb the soul;
 * Glad that they sound the bell, that with a crutch
 * They rouse you. No, I will not suffer it!
 * I cannot! Through this fence I'll flee! The world
 * Is great; my path is on the highways never
 * Thou'lt hear of me again.
 * MONK.                  Truly your life
 * Is but a sorry one, ye dissolute,
 * Wicked young monks!
 * GREGORY.         Would that the Khan again
 * Would come upon us, or Lithuania rise
 * Once more in insurrection. Good! I would then
 * Cross swords with them! Or what if the tsarevich
 * Should suddenly arise from out the grave,
 * Should cry, "Where are ye, children, faithful servants?
 * Help me against Boris, against my murderer!
 * Seize my foe, lead him to me!"
 * MONK.                      Enough, my friend,
 * Of empty babble. We cannot raise the dead.
 * No, clearly it was fated otherwise
 * For the tsarevich-- But hearken; if you wish
 * To do a thing, then do it.
 * GREGORY.                What to do?
 * MONK. If I were young as thou, if these grey hairs
 * Had not already streaked my beard-- Dost take me?
 * GREGORY. Not I.
 * MONK.       Hearken; our folk are dull of brain,
 * Easy of faith, and glad to be amazed
 * By miracles and novelties. The boyars
 * Remember Godunov as erst he was,
 * Peer to themselves; and even now the race
 * Of the old Varyags is loved by all. Thy years
 * Match those of the tsarevich. If thou hast
 * Cunning and hardihood-- Dost take me now?
 * GREGORY. I take thee.
 * MONK.              Well, what say'st thou?
 * GREGORY.                                'Tis resolved.
 * I am Dimitry, I tsarevich!
 * MONK.                   Give me
 * Thy hand, my bold young friend. Thou shalt be tsar!
 * Peer to themselves; and even now the race
 * Of the old Varyags is loved by all. Thy years
 * Match those of the tsarevich. If thou hast
 * Cunning and hardihood-- Dost take me now?
 * GREGORY. I take thee.
 * MONK.              Well, what say'st thou?
 * GREGORY.                                'Tis resolved.
 * I am Dimitry, I tsarevich!
 * MONK.                   Give me
 * Thy hand, my bold young friend. Thou shalt be tsar!
 * I am Dimitry, I tsarevich!
 * MONK.                   Give me
 * Thy hand, my bold young friend. Thou shalt be tsar!
 * Thy hand, my bold young friend. Thou shalt be tsar!

PALACE OF THE PATRIARCH

 * PATRIARCH, ABBOT of the Chudov Monastery
 * PATRIARCH. And he has run away, Father Abbot?
 * ABBOT. He has run away, holy sovereign, now three days ago.
 * PATRIARCH. Accursed rascal! What is his origin?
 * ABBOT. Of the family of the Otrepievs, of the lower nobility
 * of Galicia; in his youth he took the tonsure, no one
 * knows where, lived at Suzdal, in the Ephimievsky
 * monastery, departed from there, wandered to various
 * convents, finally arrived at my Chudov fraternity;
 * but I, seeing that he was still young and inexperienced,
 * entrusted him at the outset to Father Pimen, an old man,
 * kind and humble. And he was very learned, read our
 * chronicle, composed canons for the holy brethren; but,
 * to be sure, instruction was not given to him from the
 * Lord God--
 * PATRIARCH. Ah, those learned fellows! What a thing to
 * say, "I shall be tsar in Moscow." Ah, he is a vessel of
 * the devil! However, it is no use even to report to the
 * tsar about this; why disquiet our father sovereign?
 * It will be enough to give information about his flight to
 * the Secretary Smirnov or the Secretary Ephimiev.
 * What a heresy: "I shall be tsar in Moscow!"...
 * Catch, catch the fawning villain, and send him to
 * Solovetsky to perpetual penance. But this--is it not
 * heresy, Father Abbot?
 * ABBOT. Heresy, holy Patriarch; downright heresy.
 * the Secretary Smirnov or the Secretary Ephimiev.
 * What a heresy: "I shall be tsar in Moscow!"...
 * Catch, catch the fawning villain, and send him to
 * Solovetsky to perpetual penance. But this--is it not
 * heresy, Father Abbot?
 * ABBOT. Heresy, holy Patriarch; downright heresy.
 * ABBOT. Heresy, holy Patriarch; downright heresy.

PALACE OF THE TSAR

 * Two Attendants
 * 1ST ATTENDANT. Where is the sovereign?
 * 2ND ATTENDANT.                 In his bed-chamber,
 * Where he is closeted with some magician.
 * 1ST ATTENDANT. Ay; that's the kind of intercourse he loves;
 * Sorcerers, fortune-tellers, necromancers.
 * Ever he seeks to dip into the future,
 * Just like some pretty girl. Fain would I know
 * What 'tis he would foretell.
 * 2ND ATTENDANT.            Well, here he comes.
 * Will it please you question him?
 * 1ST ATTENDANT.               How grim he looks!
 * (Exeunt.)
 * TSAR. (Enters.) I have attained the highest power. Six years
 * Already have I reigned in peace; but joy
 * Dwells not within my soul. Even so in youth
 * We greedily desire the joys of love,
 * But only quell the hunger of the heart
 * With momentary possession. We grow cold,
 * Grow weary and oppressed! In vain the wizards
 * Promise me length of days, days of dominion
 * Immune from treachery--not power, not life
 * Gladden me; I forebode the wrath of Heaven
 * And woe. For me no happiness. I thought
 * To satisfy my people in contentment,
 * In glory, gain their love by generous gifts,
 * But I have put away that empty hope;
 * The power that lives is hateful to the mob,--
 * Only the dead they love. We are but fools
 * When our heart vibrates to the people's groans
 * And passionate wailing. Lately on our land
 * God sent a famine; perishing in torments
 * The people uttered moan. The granaries
 * I made them free of, scattered gold among them,
 * Found labour for them; furious for my pains
 * They cursed me! Next, a fire consumed their homes;
 * I built for them new dwellings; then forsooth
 * They blamed me for the fire! Such is the mob,
 * Such is its judgment! Seek its love, indeed!
 * I thought within my family to find
 * Solace; I thought to make my daughter happy
 * By wedlock. Like a tempest Death took off
 * Her bridegroom--and at once a stealthy rumour
 * Pronounced me guilty of my daughter's grief--
 * Me, me, the hapless father! Whoso dies,
 * I am the secret murderer of all;
 * I hastened Feodor's end, 'twas I that poisoned
 * My sister-queen, the lowly nun--all I!
 * Ah! Now I feel it; naught can give us peace
 * Mid worldly cares, nothing save only conscience!
 * Healthy she triumphs over wickedness,
 * Over dark slander; but if in her be found
 * A single casual stain, then misery.
 * With what a deadly sore my soul doth smart;
 * My heart, with venom filled, doth like a hammer
 * Beat in mine ears reproach; all things revolt me,
 * And my head whirls, and in my eyes are children
 * Dripping with blood; and gladly would I flee,
 * But nowhere can find refuge--horrible!
 * Pitiful he whose conscience is unclean!
 * A single casual stain, then misery.
 * With what a deadly sore my soul doth smart;
 * My heart, with venom filled, doth like a hammer
 * Beat in mine ears reproach; all things revolt me,
 * And my head whirls, and in my eyes are children
 * Dripping with blood; and gladly would I flee,
 * But nowhere can find refuge--horrible!
 * Pitiful he whose conscience is unclean!

TAVERN ON THE LITHUANIAN FRONTIER

 * MISSAIL and VARLAAM, wandering friars;
 * GREGORY in secular attire; HOSTESS
 * HOSTESS. With what shall I regale you, my reverend
 * honoured guests?
 * VARLAAM. With what God sends, little hostess. Have you
 * no wine?
 * HOSTESS. As if I had not, my fathers! I will bring it at
 * once. (Exit.)
 * MISSAIL. Why so glum, comrade? Here is that very
 * Lithuanian frontier which you so wished to reach.
 * GREGORY. Until I shall be in Lithuania, till then I shall not
 * Be content.
 * VARLAAM. What is it that makes you so fond of Lithuania!
 * Here are we, Father Missail and I, a sinner, when we fled
 * from the monastery, then we cared for nothing. Was it
 * Lithuania, was it Russia, was it fiddle, was it dulcimer?
 * All the same for us, if only there was wine. That's the
 * main thing!
 * MISSAIL. Well said, Father Varlaam.
 * HOSTESS. (Enters.)
 * There you are, my fathers. Drink to your health.
 * MISSAIL. Thanks, my good friend. God bless thee. (The
 * monks drink. Varlaam trolls a ditty: "Thou passest
 * by, my dear," etc.) (To GREGORY) Why don't you join
 * in the song? Not even join in the song?
 * GREGORY. I don't wish to.
 * MISSAIL. Everyone to his liking--
 * VARLAAM. But a tipsy man's in Heaven.* Father Missail!
 * We will drink a glass to our hostess. (Sings: "Where
 * the brave lad in durance," etc.) Still, Father Missail,
 * when I am drinking, then I don't like sober men; tipsiness
 * is one thing--but pride quite another. If you want
 * to live as we do, you are welcome. No?--then take
 * yourself off, away with you; a mountebank is no
 * companion for a priest.
 * [*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot be
 * satisfactorily rendered into English.]
 * GREGORY. Drink, and keep your thoughts to yourself,*
 * Father Varlaam! You see, I too sometimes know how
 * to make puns.
 * [*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot be
 * satisfactorily rendered into English.]
 * VARLAAM. But why should I keep my thoughts to myself?
 * MISSAIL. Let him alone, Father Varlaam.
 * VARLAAM. But what sort of a fasting man is he? Of his
 * own accord he attached himself as a companion to us;
 * no one knows who he is, no one knows whence he comes--
 * and yet he gives himself grand airs; perhaps he has a
 * close acquaintance with the pillory. (Drinks and sings:
 * "A young monk took the tonsure," etc.)
 * GREGORY. (To HOSTESS.) Whither leads this road?
 * HOSTESS. To Lithuania, my dear, to the Luyov mountains.
 * GREGORY. And is it far to the Luyov mountains?
 * HOSTESS. Not far; you might get there by evening, but for
 * the tsar's frontier barriers, and the captains of the
 * guard.
 * GREGORY. What say you? Barriers! What means this?
 * HOSTESS. Someone has escaped from Moscow, and orders
 * have been given to detain and search everyone.
 * GREGORY. (Aside.) Here's a pretty mess!
 * VARLAAM. Hallo, comrade! You've been making up to
 * mine hostess. To be sure you don't want vodka, but
 * you want a young woman. All right, brother, all right!
 * Everyone has his own ways, and Father Missail and I
 * have only one thing which we care for--we drink to the
 * bottom, we drink; turn it upside down, and knock at
 * the bottom.
 * MISSAIL. Well said, Father Varlaam.
 * GREGORY. (To Hostess.) Whom do they want? Who
 * escaped from Moscow?
 * HOSTESS. God knows; a thief perhaps, a robber. But here
 * even good folk are worried now. And what will come of
 * it? Nothing. They will not catch the old devil; as if
 * there were no other road into Lithuania than the highway!
 * Just turn to the left from here, then by the pinewood
 * or by the footpath as far as the chapel on the
 * Chekansky brook, and then straight across the marsh to
 * Khlopin, and thence to Zakhariev, and then any child
 * will guide you to the Luyov mountains. The only good
 * of these inspectors is to worry passers-by and rob us poor
 * folk. (A noise is heard.) What's that? Ah, there
 * they are, curse them! They are going their rounds.
 * GREGORY. Hostess! Is there another room in the cottage?
 * HOSTESS. No, my dear; I should be glad myself to hide.
 * But they are only pretending to go their rounds; but
 * give them wine and bread, and Heaven knows what--
 * May perdition take them, the accursed ones! May--
 * (Enter OFFICERS.)
 * OFFICERS. Good health to you, mine hostess!
 * HOSTESS. You are kindly welcome, dear guests.
 * AN OFFICER. (To another.) Ha, there's drinking going on
 * here; we shall get something here. (To the Monks.)
 * Who are you?
 * VARLAAM. We--are two old clerics, humble monks; we are
 * going from village to village, and collecting Christian
 * alms for the monastery.
 * OFFICER. (To GREGORY.) And thou?
 * MISSAIL. Our comrade.
 * GREGORY. A layman from the suburb; I have conducted the
 * old men as far as the frontier; from here I am going to
 * my own home.
 * MISSAIL. So you have changed your mind?
 * GREGORY. (Sotto voce.) Be silent.
 * OFFICER. Hostess, bring some more wine, and we will
 * drink here a little and talk a little with these old men.
 * 2ND OFFICER. (Sotto voce.) Yon lad, it appears, is poor;
 * there's nothing to be got out of him; on the other hand
 * the old men--
 * 1ST OFFICER. Be silent; we shall come to them presently.
 * --Well, my fathers, how are you getting on?
 * VARLAAM. Badly, my sons, badly! The Christians have
 * now turned stingy; they love their money; they hide
 * their money. They give little to God. The people of
 * the world have become great sinners. They have all
 * devoted themselves to commerce, to earthly cares; they
 * think of worldly wealth, not of the salvation of the soul.
 * You walk and walk; you beg and beg; sometimes in
 * three days begging will not bring you three half-pence.
 * What a sin! A week goes by; another week; you look
 * into your bag, and there is so little in it that you are
 * ashamed to show yourself at the monastery. What are
 * you to do? From very sorrow you drink away what is
 * left; a real calamity! Ah, it is bad! It seems our last
 * days have come--
 * HOSTESS. (Weeps.) God pardon and save you!
 * (During the course of VARLAAM'S speech the 1st
 * OFFICER watches MISSAIL significantly.)
 * 1ST OFFICER. Alexis! Have you the tsar's edict with you?
 * 2ND OFFICER. I have it.
 * 1ST OFFICER. Give it here.
 * MISSAIL. Why do you look at me so fixedly?
 * 1ST OFFICER. This is why; from Moscow there has fled a
 * certain wicked heretic--Grishka Otrepiev. Have you
 * heard this?
 * MISSAIL. I have not heard it.
 * OFFICER. Not heard it? Very good. And the tsar has
 * ordered to arrest and hang the fugitive heretic. Do you
 * know this?
 * MISSAIL. I do not know it.
 * OFFICER. (To VARLAAM.) Do you know how to read?
 * VARLAAM. In my youth I knew how, but I have forgotten.
 * OFFICER. (To MISSAIL.) And thou?
 * MISSAIL. God has not made me wise.
 * OFFICER. So then here's the tsar's edict.
 * MISSAIL. What do I want it for?
 * OFFICER. It seems to me that this fugitive heretic, thief,
 * swindler, is--thou.
 * MISSAIL. I? Good gracious! What are you talking about?
 * OFFICER. Stay! Hold the doors. Then we shall soon get
 * at the truth.
 * HOSTESS. O the cursed tormentors! Not to leave even the
 * old man in peace!
 * OFFICER. Which of you here is a scholar?
 * GREGORY. (Comes forward.) I am a scholar!
 * OFFICER. Oh, indeed! And from whom did you learn?
 * GREGORY. From our sacristan.
 * OFFICER (Gives him the edict.) Read it aloud.
 * GREGORY. (Reads.) "An unworthy monk of the Monastery
 * Of Chudov, Gregory, of the family of Otrepiev, has fallen
 * into heresy, taught by the devil, and has dared to vex
 * the holy brotherhood by all kinds of iniquities and acts
 * of lawlessness. And, according to information, it has
 * been shown that he, the accursed Grishka, has fled to the
 * Lithuanian frontier."
 * OFFICER. (To MISSAIL.) How can it be anyone but you?
 * GREGORY. "And the tsar has commanded to arrest him--"
 * OFFICER. And to hang!
 * GREGORY. It does not say here "to hang."
 * OFFICER. Thou liest. What is meant is not always put into
 * writing. Read: to arrest and to hang.
 * GREGORY. "And to hang. And the age of the thief
 * Grishka" (looking at VARLAAM) "about fifty, and his
 * height medium; he has a bald head, grey beard, fat
 * belly."
 * (All glance at VARLAAM.)
 * 1ST OFFICER, My lads! Here is Grishka! Hold him!
 * Bind him! I never thought to catch him so quickly.
 * VARLAAM. (Snatching the paper.) Hands off, my lads!
 * What sort of a Grishka am I? What! Fifty years old,
 * grey beard, fat belly! No, brother. You're too young
 * to play off tricks on me. I have not read for a long time
 * and I make it out badly, but I shall manage to make it
 * out, as it's a hanging matter. (Spells it out.) "And his
 * age twenty." Why, brother, where does it say fifty?--
 * Do you see--twenty?
 * 2ND OFFICER. Yes, I remember, twenty; even so it was
 * told us.
 * 1ST OFFICER. (To GREGORY.) Then, evidently, you like a
 * joke, brother.
 * (During the reading GREGORY stands with downcast
 * head, and his hand in his breast.)
 * VARLAAM. (Continues.) "And in stature he is small, chest
 * broad, one arm shorter than the other, blue eyes, red
 * hair, a wart on his cheek, another on his forehead."
 * Then is it not you, my friend?
 * (GREGORY suddenly draws a dagger; all give way
 * before him; he dashes through the window.)
 * OFFICERS. Hold him! Hold him!
 * (All run out in disorder.)
 * OFFICER. (To MISSAIL.) And thou?
 * MISSAIL. God has not made me wise.
 * OFFICER. So then here's the tsar's edict.
 * MISSAIL. What do I want it for?
 * OFFICER. It seems to me that this fugitive heretic, thief,
 * swindler, is--thou.
 * MISSAIL. I? Good gracious! What are you talking about?
 * OFFICER. Stay! Hold the doors. Then we shall soon get
 * at the truth.
 * HOSTESS. O the cursed tormentors! Not to leave even the
 * old man in peace!
 * OFFICER. Which of you here is a scholar?
 * GREGORY. (Comes forward.) I am a scholar!
 * OFFICER. Oh, indeed! And from whom did you learn?
 * GREGORY. From our sacristan.
 * OFFICER (Gives him the edict.) Read it aloud.
 * GREGORY. (Reads.) "An unworthy monk of the Monastery
 * Of Chudov, Gregory, of the family of Otrepiev, has fallen
 * into heresy, taught by the devil, and has dared to vex
 * the holy brotherhood by all kinds of iniquities and acts
 * of lawlessness. And, according to information, it has
 * been shown that he, the accursed Grishka, has fled to the
 * Lithuanian frontier."
 * OFFICER. (To MISSAIL.) How can it be anyone but you?
 * GREGORY. "And the tsar has commanded to arrest him--"
 * OFFICER. And to hang!
 * GREGORY. It does not say here "to hang."
 * OFFICER. Thou liest. What is meant is not always put into
 * writing. Read: to arrest and to hang.
 * GREGORY. "And to hang. And the age of the thief
 * Grishka" (looking at VARLAAM) "about fifty, and his
 * height medium; he has a bald head, grey beard, fat
 * belly."
 * (All glance at VARLAAM.)
 * 1ST OFFICER, My lads! Here is Grishka! Hold him!
 * Bind him! I never thought to catch him so quickly.
 * VARLAAM. (Snatching the paper.) Hands off, my lads!
 * What sort of a Grishka am I? What! Fifty years old,
 * grey beard, fat belly! No, brother. You're too young
 * to play off tricks on me. I have not read for a long time
 * and I make it out badly, but I shall manage to make it
 * out, as it's a hanging matter. (Spells it out.) "And his
 * age twenty." Why, brother, where does it say fifty?--
 * Do you see--twenty?
 * 2ND OFFICER. Yes, I remember, twenty; even so it was
 * told us.
 * 1ST OFFICER. (To GREGORY.) Then, evidently, you like a
 * joke, brother.
 * (During the reading GREGORY stands with downcast
 * head, and his hand in his breast.)
 * VARLAAM. (Continues.) "And in stature he is small, chest
 * broad, one arm shorter than the other, blue eyes, red
 * hair, a wart on his cheek, another on his forehead."
 * Then is it not you, my friend?
 * (GREGORY suddenly draws a dagger; all give way
 * before him; he dashes through the window.)
 * OFFICERS. Hold him! Hold him!
 * (All run out in disorder.)
 * VARLAAM. (Snatching the paper.) Hands off, my lads!
 * What sort of a Grishka am I? What! Fifty years old,
 * grey beard, fat belly! No, brother. You're too young
 * to play off tricks on me. I have not read for a long time
 * and I make it out badly, but I shall manage to make it
 * out, as it's a hanging matter. (Spells it out.) "And his
 * age twenty." Why, brother, where does it say fifty?--
 * Do you see--twenty?
 * 2ND OFFICER. Yes, I remember, twenty; even so it was
 * told us.
 * 1ST OFFICER. (To GREGORY.) Then, evidently, you like a
 * joke, brother.
 * (During the reading GREGORY stands with downcast
 * head, and his hand in his breast.)
 * VARLAAM. (Continues.) "And in stature he is small, chest
 * broad, one arm shorter than the other, blue eyes, red
 * hair, a wart on his cheek, another on his forehead."
 * Then is it not you, my friend?
 * (GREGORY suddenly draws a dagger; all give way
 * before him; he dashes through the window.)
 * OFFICERS. Hold him! Hold him!
 * (All run out in disorder.)
 * (GREGORY suddenly draws a dagger; all give way
 * before him; he dashes through the window.)
 * OFFICERS. Hold him! Hold him!
 * (All run out in disorder.)
 * OFFICERS. Hold him! Hold him!
 * (All run out in disorder.)
 * (All run out in disorder.)

MOSCOW. SHUISKY'S HOUSE

 * SHUISKY. A number of Guests. Supper
 * SHUISKY. More wine! Now, my dear guests.
 * (He rises; all rise after him.)
 * The final draught!
 * Read the prayer, boy.
 * Boy.               Lord of the heavens, Who art
 * Eternally and everywhere, accept
 * The prayer of us Thy servants. For our monarch,
 * By Thee appointed, for our pious tsar,
 * Of all good Christians autocrat, we pray.
 * Preserve him in the palace, on the field
 * Of battle, on his nightly couch; grant to him
 * Victory o'er his foes; from sea to sea
 * May he be glorified; may all his house
 * Blossom with health, and may its precious branches
 * O'ershadow all the earth; to us, his slaves,
 * May he, as heretofore, be generous.
 * Gracious, long-suffering, and may the founts
 * Of his unfailing wisdom flow upon us;
 * Raising the royal cup, Lord of the heavens,
 * For this we pray.
 * SHUISKY. (Drinks.) Long live our mighty sovereign!
 * Farewell, dear guests. I thank you that ye scorned not
 * My bread and salt. Farewell; good-night.
 * (Exeunt Guests: he conducts them to the door.)
 * PUSHKIN. Hardly could they tear themselves away; indeed,
 * Prince Vassily Ivanovitch, I began to think that we
 * should not succeed in getting any private talk.
 * SHUISKY. (To the Servants.) You there, why do you stand
 * Gaping? Always eavesdropping on gentlemen! Clear
 * the table, and then be off.
 * (Exeunt Servants.)
 * What is it, Athanasius
 * Mikailovitch?
 * PUSHKIN.   Such a wondrous thing!
 * A message was sent here to me today
 * From Cracow by my nephew Gabriel Pushkin.
 * SHUISKY. Well?
 * PUSHKIN. 'Tis strange news my nephew writes. The son
 * Of the Terrible-- But stay--
 * (Goes to the door and examines it.)
 * The royal boy,
 * Who murdered was by order of Boris--
 * SHUISKY. But these are no new tidings.
 * PUSHKIN.                       Wait a little;
 * Dimitry lives.
 * SHUISKY.    So that's it! News indeed!
 * Dimitry living!--Really marvelous!
 * And is that all?
 * PUSHKIN.      Pray listen to the end;
 * Whoe'er he be, whether he be Dimitry
 * Rescued, or else some spirit in his shape,
 * Some daring rogue, some insolent pretender,
 * In any case Dimitry has appeared.
 * SHUISKY. It cannot be.
 * PUSHKIN.            Pushkin himself beheld him
 * When first he reached the court, and through the ranks
 * Of Lithuanian gentlemen went straight
 * Into the secret chamber of the king.
 * SHUISKY. What kind of man? Whence comes he?
 * PUSHKIN.                            No one knows.
 * 'Tis known that he was Vishnevetsky's servant;
 * That to a ghostly father on a bed
 * Of sickness he disclosed himself; possessed
 * Of this strange secret, his proud master nursed him,
 * >From his sick bed upraised him, and straightway
 * Took him to Sigismund.
 * SHUISKY.            And what say men
 * Of this bold fellow?
 * PUSHKIN.          'Tis said that he is wise,
 * Affable, cunning, popular with all men.
 * He has bewitched the fugitives from Moscow,
 * The Catholic priests see eye to eye with him.
 * The King caresses him, and, it is said,
 * Has promised help.
 * SHUISKY.        All this is such a medley
 * That my head whirls. Brother, beyond all doubt
 * This man is a pretender, but the danger
 * Is, I confess, not slight. This is grave news!
 * And if it reach the people, then there'll be
 * A mighty tempest.
 * PUSHKIN.       Such a storm that hardly
 * Will Tsar Boris contrive to keep the crown
 * Upon his clever head; and losing it
 * Will get but his deserts! He governs us
 * As did the tsar Ivan of evil memory.
 * What profits it that public executions
 * Have ceased, that we no longer sing in public
 * Hymns to Christ Jesus on the field of blood;
 * That we no more are burnt in public places,
 * Or that the tsar no longer with his sceptre
 * Rakes in the ashes? Is there any safety
 * In our poor life? Each day disgrace awaits us;
 * The dungeon or Siberia, cowl or fetters,
 * And then in some deaf nook a starving death,
 * Or else the halter. Where are the most renowned
 * Of all our houses, where the Sitsky princes,
 * Where are the Shestunovs, where the Romanovs,
 * Hope of our fatherland? Imprisoned, tortured,
 * In exile. Do but wait, and a like fate
 * Will soon be thine. Think of it! Here at home,
 * Just as in Lithuania, we're beset
 * By treacherous slaves--and tongues are ever ready
 * For base betrayal, thieves bribed by the State.
 * We hang upon the word of the first servant
 * Whom we may please to punish. Then he bethought him
 * To take from us our privilege of hiring
 * Our serfs at will; we are no longer masters
 * Of our own lands. Presume not to dismiss
 * An idler. Willy nilly, thou must feed him!
 * Presume not to outbid a man in hiring
 * A labourer, or you will find yourself
 * In the Court's clutches.--Was such an evil heard of
 * Even under tsar Ivan? And are the people
 * The better off? Ask them. Let the pretender
 * But promise them the old free right of transfer,
 * Then there'll be sport.
 * SHUISKY.             Thou'rt right; but be advised;
 * Of this, of all things, for a time we'll speak
 * No word.
 * PUSHKIN. Assuredly, keep thine own counsel.
 * Thou art--a person of discretion; always
 * I am glad to commune with thee; and if aught
 * At any time disturbs me, I endure not
 * To keep it from thee; and, truth to tell, thy mead
 * And velvet ale today have so untied
 * My tongue...Farewell then, prince.
 * SHUISKY.                Brother, farewell.
 * Farewell, my brother, till we meet again.
 * (He escorts PUSHKIN out.)
 * By treacherous slaves--and tongues are ever ready
 * For base betrayal, thieves bribed by the State.
 * We hang upon the word of the first servant
 * Whom we may please to punish. Then he bethought him
 * To take from us our privilege of hiring
 * Our serfs at will; we are no longer masters
 * Of our own lands. Presume not to dismiss
 * An idler. Willy nilly, thou must feed him!
 * Presume not to outbid a man in hiring
 * A labourer, or you will find yourself
 * In the Court's clutches.--Was such an evil heard of
 * Even under tsar Ivan? And are the people
 * The better off? Ask them. Let the pretender
 * But promise them the old free right of transfer,
 * Then there'll be sport.
 * SHUISKY.             Thou'rt right; but be advised;
 * Of this, of all things, for a time we'll speak
 * No word.
 * PUSHKIN. Assuredly, keep thine own counsel.
 * Thou art--a person of discretion; always
 * I am glad to commune with thee; and if aught
 * At any time disturbs me, I endure not
 * To keep it from thee; and, truth to tell, thy mead
 * And velvet ale today have so untied
 * My tongue...Farewell then, prince.
 * SHUISKY.                Brother, farewell.
 * Farewell, my brother, till we meet again.
 * (He escorts PUSHKIN out.)
 * SHUISKY.                Brother, farewell.
 * Farewell, my brother, till we meet again.
 * (He escorts PUSHKIN out.)
 * (He escorts PUSHKIN out.)

PALACE OF THE TSAR

 * The TSAREVICH is drawing a map. The
 * TSAREVNA. The NURSE of the Tsarevna
 * KSENIA. (Kisses a portrait.) My dear bridegroom, comely
 * son of a king, not to me wast thou given, not to thy
 * affianced bride, but to a dark sepulchre in a strange
 * land; never shall I take comfort, ever shall I weep for
 * thee.
 * NURSE. Eh, tsarevna! A maiden weeps as the dew falls;
 * the sun will rise, will dry the dew. Thou wilt have
 * another bridegroom--and handsome and affable. My
 * charming child, thou wilt learn to love him, thou wilt
 * forget Ivan the king's son.
 * KSENIA. Nay, nurse, I will be true to him even in death.
 * (Boris enters.)
 * TSAR. What, Ksenia? What, my sweet one? In thy girlhood
 * Already a woe-stricken widow, ever
 * Bewailing thy dead bridegroom! Fate forbade me
 * To be the author of thy bliss. Perchance
 * I angered Heaven; it was not mine to compass
 * Thy happiness. Innocent one, for what
 * Art thou a sufferer? And thou, my son,
 * With what art thou employed? What's this?
 * FEODOR.                          A chart
 * Of all the land of Muscovy; our tsardom
 * From end to end. Here you see; there is Moscow,
 * There Novgorod, there Astrakhan. Here lies
 * The sea, here the dense forest tract of Perm,
 * And here Siberia.
 * TSAR.          And what is this
 * Which makes a winding pattern here?
 * FEODOR.                          That is
 * The Volga.
 * TSAR.   Very good! Here's the sweet fruit
 * Of learning. One can view as from the clouds
 * Our whole dominion at a glance; its frontiers,
 * Its towns, its rivers. Learn, my son; 'tis science
 * Which gives to us an abstract of the events
 * Of our swift-flowing life. Some day, perchance
 * Soon, all the lands which thou so cunningly
 * Today hast drawn on paper, all will come
 * Under thy hand. Learn, therefore; and more smoothly,
 * More clearly wilt thou take, my son, upon thee
 * The cares of state.
 * (SEMYON Godunov enters.)
 * But there comes Godunov
 * Bringing reports to me. (To KSENIA.) Go to thy chamber
 * Dearest; farewe1l, my child; God comfort thee.
 * (Exeunt KSENIA and NURSE.)
 * What news hast thou for me, Semyon Nikitich?
 * SEMYON G. Today at dawn the butler of Prince Shuisky
 * And Pushkin's servant brought me information.
 * TSAR. Well?
 * SEMYON G. In the first place Pushkin's man deposed
 * That yestermorn came to his house from Cracow
 * A courier, who within an hour was sent
 * Without a letter back.
 * TSAR.               Arrest the courier.
 * SEMYON G. Some are already sent to overtake him.
 * TSAR. And what of Shuisky?
 * SEMYON G.              Last night he entertained
 * His friends; the Buturlins, both Miloslavskys,
 * And Saltikov, with Pushkin and some others.
 * They parted late. Pushkin alone remained
 * Closeted with his host and talked with him
 * A long time more.
 * TSAR.          For Shuisky send forthwith.
 * SEMYON G. Sire, he is here already.
 * TSAR.                      Call him hither.
 * (Exit SEMYON Godunov.)
 * Dealings with Lithuania? What means this?
 * I like not the seditious race of Pushkins,
 * Nor must I trust in Shuisky, obsequious,
 * But bold and wily--
 * (Enter SHUISKY.)
 * Prince, I must speak with thee.
 * But thou thyself, it seems, hast business with me,
 * And I would listen first to thee.
 * SHUISKY.                       Yea, sire;
 * It is my duty to convey to thee
 * Grave news.
 * TSAR.    I listen.
 * SHUISKY. (Sotto voce, pointing to FEODOR.)
 * But, sire--
 * TSAR.                     The tsarevich
 * May learn whate'er Prince Shuisky knoweth. Speak.
 * SHUISKY. My liege, from Lithuania there have come
 * Tidings to us--
 * TSAR.       Are they not those same tidings
 * Which yestereve a courier bore to Pushkin?
 * SHUISKY. Nothing is hidden from him!--Sire, I thought
 * Thou knew'st not yet this secret.
 * TSAR.                          Let not that
 * Trouble thee, prince; I fain would scrutinise
 * Thy information; else we shall not learn
 * The actual truth.
 * SHUISKY.       I know this only, Sire;
 * In Cracow a pretender hath appeared;
 * The king and nobles back him.
 * TSAR.                      What say they?
 * And who is this pretender?
 * SHUISKY.                I know not.
 * TSAR. But wherein is he dangerous?
 * SHUISKY.                        Verily
 * Thy state, my liege, is firm; by graciousness,
 * Zeal, bounty, thou hast won the filial love
 * Of all thy slaves; but thou thyself dost know
 * The mob is thoughtless, changeable, rebellious,
 * Credulous, lightly given to vain hope,
 * Obedient to each momentary impulse,
 * To truth deaf and indifferent; it feedeth
 * On fables; shameless boldness pleaseth it.
 * So, if this unknown vagabond should cross
 * The Lithuanian border, Dimitry's name
 * Raised from the grave will gain him a whole crowd
 * Of fools.
 * TSAR. Dimitry's?--What?--That child's?--Dimitry's?
 * Withdraw, tsarevich.
 * SHUISKY.          He flushed; there'll be a storm!
 * FEODOR. Suffer me, Sire--
 * TSAR.                 Impossible, my son;
 * Go, go!
 * (Exit FEODOR.)
 * Dimitry's name!
 * SHUISKY.           Then he knew nothing.
 * TSAR. Listen: take steps this very hour that Russia
 * Be fenced by barriers from Lithuania;
 * That not a single soul pass o'er the border,
 * That not a hare run o'er to us from Poland,
 * Nor crow fly here from Cracow. Away!
 * SHUISKY.                          I go.
 * TSAR. Stay!--Is it not a fact that this report
 * Is artfully concocted? Hast ever heard
 * That dead men have arisen from their graves
 * To question tsars, legitimate tsars, appointed,
 * Chosen by the voice of all the people, crowned
 * By the great Patriarch? Is't not laughable?
 * Eh? What? Why laugh'st thou not thereat?
 * SHUISKY.                              I, Sire?
 * TSAR. Hark, Prince Vassily; when first I learned this child
 * Had been--this child had somehow lost its life,
 * 'Twas thou I sent to search the matter out.
 * Now by the Cross and God I do adjure thee,
 * Declare to me the truth upon thy conscience;
 * Didst recognise the slaughtered boy; was't not
 * A substitute? Reply.
 * SHUISKY.          I swear to thee--
 * TSAR. Nay, Shuisky, swear not, but reply; was it
 * Indeed Dimitry?
 * SHUISKY.     He.
 * TSAR.          Consider, prince.
 * I promise clemency; I will not punish
 * With vain disgrace a lie that's past. But if
 * Thou now beguile me, then by my son's head
 * I swear--an evil fate shall overtake thee,
 * Requital such that Tsar Ivan Vasilievich
 * Shall shudder in his grave with horror of it.
 * SHUISKY. In punishment no terror lies; the terror
 * Doth lie in thy disfavour; in thy presence
 * Dare I use cunning? Could I deceive myself
 * So blindly as not recognise Dimitry?
 * Three days in the cathedral did I visit
 * His corpse, escorted thither by all Uglich.
 * Around him thirteen bodies lay of those
 * Slain by the people, and on them corruption
 * Already had set in perceptibly.
 * But lo! The childish face of the tsarevich
 * Was bright and fresh and quiet as if asleep;
 * The deep gash had congealed not, nor the lines
 * Of his face even altered. No, my liege,
 * There is no doubt; Dimitry sleeps in the grave.
 * TSAR. Enough, withdraw.
 * (Exit SHUISKY.)
 * I choke!--let me get my breath!
 * I felt it; all my blood surged to my face,
 * And heavily fell back.--So that is why
 * For thirteen years together I have dreamed
 * Ever about the murdered child. Yes, yes--
 * 'Tis that!--now I perceive. But who is he,
 * My terrible antagonist? Who is it
 * Opposeth me? An empty name, a shadow.
 * Can it be a shade shall tear from me the purple,
 * A sound deprive my children of succession?
 * Fool that I was! Of what was I afraid?
 * Blow on this phantom--and it is no more.
 * So, I am fast resolved; I'll show no sign
 * Of fear, but nothing must be held in scorn.
 * Ah! Heavy art thou, crown of Monomakh!
 * Eh? What? Why laugh'st thou not thereat?
 * SHUISKY.                              I, Sire?
 * TSAR. Hark, Prince Vassily; when first I learned this child
 * Had been--this child had somehow lost its life,
 * 'Twas thou I sent to search the matter out.
 * Now by the Cross and God I do adjure thee,
 * Declare to me the truth upon thy conscience;
 * Didst recognise the slaughtered boy; was't not
 * A substitute? Reply.
 * SHUISKY.          I swear to thee--
 * TSAR. Nay, Shuisky, swear not, but reply; was it
 * Indeed Dimitry?
 * SHUISKY.     He.
 * TSAR.          Consider, prince.
 * I promise clemency; I will not punish
 * With vain disgrace a lie that's past. But if
 * Thou now beguile me, then by my son's head
 * I swear--an evil fate shall overtake thee,
 * Requital such that Tsar Ivan Vasilievich
 * Shall shudder in his grave with horror of it.
 * SHUISKY. In punishment no terror lies; the terror
 * Doth lie in thy disfavour; in thy presence
 * Dare I use cunning? Could I deceive myself
 * So blindly as not recognise Dimitry?
 * Three days in the cathedral did I visit
 * His corpse, escorted thither by all Uglich.
 * Around him thirteen bodies lay of those
 * Slain by the people, and on them corruption
 * Already had set in perceptibly.
 * But lo! The childish face of the tsarevich
 * Was bright and fresh and quiet as if asleep;
 * The deep gash had congealed not, nor the lines
 * Of his face even altered. No, my liege,
 * There is no doubt; Dimitry sleeps in the grave.
 * TSAR. Enough, withdraw.
 * (Exit SHUISKY.)
 * I choke!--let me get my breath!
 * I felt it; all my blood surged to my face,
 * And heavily fell back.--So that is why
 * For thirteen years together I have dreamed
 * Ever about the murdered child. Yes, yes--
 * 'Tis that!--now I perceive. But who is he,
 * My terrible antagonist? Who is it
 * Opposeth me? An empty name, a shadow.
 * Can it be a shade shall tear from me the purple,
 * A sound deprive my children of succession?
 * Fool that I was! Of what was I afraid?
 * Blow on this phantom--and it is no more.
 * So, I am fast resolved; I'll show no sign
 * Of fear, but nothing must be held in scorn.
 * Ah! Heavy art thou, crown of Monomakh!
 * 'Tis that!--now I perceive. But who is he,
 * My terrible antagonist? Who is it
 * Opposeth me? An empty name, a shadow.
 * Can it be a shade shall tear from me the purple,
 * A sound deprive my children of succession?
 * Fool that I was! Of what was I afraid?
 * Blow on this phantom--and it is no more.
 * So, I am fast resolved; I'll show no sign
 * Of fear, but nothing must be held in scorn.
 * Ah! Heavy art thou, crown of Monomakh!

CRACOW. HOUSE OF VISHNEVETSKY

 * The PRETENDER and a CATHOLIC PRIEST
 * PRETENDER. Nay, father, there will be no trouble. I know
 * The spirit of my people; piety
 * Does not run wild in them, their tsar's example
 * To them is sacred. Furthermore, the people
 * Are always tolerant. I warrant you,
 * Before two years my people all, and all
 * The Eastern Church, will recognise the power
 * Of Peter's Vicar.
 * PRIEST.        May Saint Ignatius aid thee
 * When other times shall come. Meanwhile, tsarevich,
 * Hide in thy soul the seed of heavenly blessing;
 * Religious duty bids us oft dissemble
 * Before the blabbing world; the people judge
 * Thy words, thy deeds; God only sees thy motives.
 * PRETENDER. Amen. Who's there?
 * (Enter a Servant.)
 * Say that we will receive them.
 * (The doors are opened; a crowd of Russians and Poles enters.)
 * Comrades! Tomorrow we depart from Cracow.
 * Mnishek, with thee for three days in Sambor
 * I'll stay. I know thy hospitable castle
 * Both shines in splendid stateliness, and glories
 * In its young mistress; There I hope to see
 * Charming Marina. And ye, my friends, ye, Russia
 * And Lithuania, ye who have upraised
 * Fraternal banners against a common foe,
 * Against mine enemy, yon crafty villain.
 * Ye sons of Slavs, speedily will I lead
 * Your dread battalions to the longed-for conflict.
 * But soft! Methinks among you I descry
 * New faces.
 * GABRIEL P. They have come to beg for sword
 * And service with your Grace.
 * PRETENDER.                Welcome, my lads.
 * You are friends to me. But tell me, Pushkin, who
 * Is this fine fellow?
 * PUSHKIN.          Prince Kurbsky.
 * PRETENDER. (To KURBSKY.)   A famous name!
 * Art kinsman to the hero of Kazan?
 * KURBSKY. His son.
 * PRETENDER. Liveth he still?
 * KURBSKY.                 Nay, he is dead.
 * PRETENDER. A noble soul! A man of war and counsel.
 * But from the time when he appeared beneath
 * The ancient town Olgin with the Lithuanians,
 * Hardy avenger of his injuries,
 * Rumour hath held her tongue concerning him.
 * KURBSKY. My father led the remnant of his life
 * On lands bestowed upon him by Batory;
 * There, in Volhynia, solitary and quiet,
 * Sought consolation for himself in studies;
 * But peaceful labour did not comfort him;
 * He ne'er forgot the home of his young days,
 * And to the end pined for it.
 * PRETENDER.                Hapless chieftain!
 * How brightly shone the dawn of his resounding
 * And stormy life! Glad am I, noble knight,
 * That now his blood is reconciled in thee
 * To his fatherland. The faults of fathers must not
 * Be called to mind. Peace to their grave. Approach;
 * Give me thy hand! Is it not strange?--the son
 * Of Kurbsky to the throne is leading--whom?
 * Whom but Ivan's own son?--All favours me;
 * People and fate alike.--Say, who art thou?
 * A POLE. Sobansky, a free noble.
 * PRETENDER.             Praise and honour
 * Attend thee, child of liberty. Give him
 * A third of his full pay beforehand.--Who
 * Are these? On them I recognise the dress
 * Of my own country. These are ours.
 * KRUSHCHOV. (Bows low.)          Yea, Sire,
 * Our father; we are thralls of thine, devoted
 * And persecuted; we have fled from Moscow,
 * Disgraced, to thee our tsar, and for thy sake
 * Are ready to lay down our lives; our corpses
 * Shall be for thee steps to the royal throne.
 * PRETENDER. Take heart, innocent sufferers. Only let me
 * Reach Moscow, and, once there, Boris shall settle
 * Some scores with me and you. What news of Moscow?
 * KRUSHCHOV. As yet all there is quiet. But already
 * The folk have got to know that the tsarevich
 * Was saved; already everywhere is read
 * Thy proclamation. All are waiting for thee.
 * Not long ago Boris sent two boyars
 * To execution merely because in secret
 * They drank thy health.
 * PRETENDER.          O hapless, good boyars!
 * But blood for blood! And woe to Godunov!
 * What do they say of him?
 * KRUSHCHOV.            He has withdrawn
 * Into his gloomy palace. He is grim
 * And sombre. Executions loom ahead.
 * But sickness gnaws him. Hardly hath he strength
 * To drag himself along, and--it is thought--
 * His last hour is already not far off.
 * PRETENDER. A speedy death I wish him, as becomes
 * A great-souled foe to wish. If not, then woe
 * To the miscreant!--And whom doth he intend
 * To name as his successor?
 * KRUSHCHOV.             He shows not
 * His purposes, but it would seem he destines
 * Feodor, his young son, to be our tsar.
 * PRETENDER. His reckonings, maybe, will yet prove wrong.
 * Who art thou?
 * KARELA.    A Cossack; from the Don I am sent
 * To thee, from the free troops, from the brave hetmen
 * From upper and lower regions of the Cossacks,
 * To look upon thy bright and royal eyes,
 * And tender thee their homage.
 * PRETENDER.                 Well I knew
 * The men of Don; I doubted not to see
 * The Cossack hetmen in my ranks. We thank
 * Our army of the Don. Today, we know,
 * The Cossacks are unjustly persecuted,
 * Oppressed; but if God grant us to ascend
 * The throne of our forefathers, then as of yore
 * We'll gratify the free and faithful Don.
 * POET. (Approaches. bowing low, and taking Gregory by the
 * hem of his caftan.)
 * Great prince, illustrious offspring of a king!
 * PRETENDER. What wouldst thou?
 * POET.                      Condescendingly accept
 * This poor fruit of my earnest toil.
 * PRETENDER.                       What see I?
 * Verses in Latin! Blest a hundredfold
 * The tie of sword and lyre; the selfsame laurel
 * Binds them in friendship. I was born beneath
 * A northern sky, but yet the Latin muse
 * To me is a familiar voice; I love
 * The blossoms of Parnassus, I believe
 * The prophecies of singers. Not in vain
 * The ecstasy boils in their flaming breast;
 * Action is hallowed, being glorified
 * Beforehand by the poets! Approach, my friend.
 * In memory of me accept this gift.
 * (Gives him a ring.)
 * When fate fulfils for me her covenant,
 * When I assume the crown of my forefathers,
 * I hope again to hear the measured tones
 * Of thy sweet voice, and thy inspired lay.
 * Musa gloriam Coronat, gloriaque musam.
 * And so, friends, till tomorrow, au revoir.
 * ALL. Forward! Long live Dimitry! Forward, forward!
 * Long live Dimitry, the great prince of Moscow!
 * Oppressed; but if God grant us to ascend
 * The throne of our forefathers, then as of yore
 * We'll gratify the free and faithful Don.
 * POET. (Approaches. bowing low, and taking Gregory by the
 * hem of his caftan.)
 * Great prince, illustrious offspring of a king!
 * PRETENDER. What wouldst thou?
 * POET.                      Condescendingly accept
 * This poor fruit of my earnest toil.
 * PRETENDER.                       What see I?
 * Verses in Latin! Blest a hundredfold
 * The tie of sword and lyre; the selfsame laurel
 * Binds them in friendship. I was born beneath
 * A northern sky, but yet the Latin muse
 * To me is a familiar voice; I love
 * The blossoms of Parnassus, I believe
 * The prophecies of singers. Not in vain
 * The ecstasy boils in their flaming breast;
 * Action is hallowed, being glorified
 * Beforehand by the poets! Approach, my friend.
 * In memory of me accept this gift.
 * (Gives him a ring.)
 * When fate fulfils for me her covenant,
 * When I assume the crown of my forefathers,
 * I hope again to hear the measured tones
 * Of thy sweet voice, and thy inspired lay.
 * Musa gloriam Coronat, gloriaque musam.
 * And so, friends, till tomorrow, au revoir.
 * ALL. Forward! Long live Dimitry! Forward, forward!
 * Long live Dimitry, the great prince of Moscow!
 * I hope again to hear the measured tones
 * Of thy sweet voice, and thy inspired lay.
 * Musa gloriam Coronat, gloriaque musam.
 * And so, friends, till tomorrow, au revoir.
 * ALL. Forward! Long live Dimitry! Forward, forward!
 * Long live Dimitry, the great prince of Moscow!
 * Long live Dimitry, the great prince of Moscow!

CASTLE OF THE GOVERNOR MNISZECH IN SAMBOR

 * Dressing-Room of Marina
 * MARINA, ROUZYA (dressing her), Serving-Women
 * MARINA.
 * (Before a mirror.) Now then, is it ready? Cannot
 * you make haste?
 * ROUZYA. I pray you first to make the difficult choice;
 * Will you the necklace wear of pearls, or else
 * The emerald half-moon?
 * MARINA.             My diamond crown.
 * ROUZYA. Splendid! Do you remember that you wore it
 * When to the palace you were pleased to go?
 * They say that at the ball your gracious highness
 * Shone like the sun; men sighed, fair ladies whispered--
 * 'Twas then that for the first time young Khotkevich
 * Beheld you, he who after shot himself.
 * And whosoever looked on you, they say
 * That instant fell in love.
 * MARINA.                 Can't you be quicker?
 * ROUZYA. At once. Today your father counts upon you.
 * 'Twas not for naught the young tsarevich saw you;
 * He could not hide his rapture; wounded he is
 * Already; so it only needs to deal him
 * A resolute blow, and instantly, my lady,
 * He'll be in love with you. 'Tis now a month
 * Since, quitting Cracow, heedless of the war
 * And throne of Moscow, he has feasted here,
 * Your guest, enraging Poles alike and Russians.
 * Heavens! Shall I ever live to see the day?--
 * Say, you will not, when to his capital
 * Dimitry leads the queen of Moscow, say
 * You'll not forsake me?
 * MARINA.             Dost thou truly think
 * I shall be queen?
 * ROUZYA.        Who, if not you? Who here
 * Dares to compare in beauty with my mistress?
 * The race of Mnishek never yet has yielded
 * To any. In intellect you are beyond
 * All praise.--Happy the suitor whom your glance
 * Honours with its regard, who wins your heart--
 * Whoe'er he be, be he our king, the dauphin
 * Of France, or even this our poor tsarevich
 * God knows who, God knows whence!
 * MARINA.                       The very son
 * Of the tsar, and so confessed by the whole world.
 * ROUZYA. And yet last winter he was but a servant
 * In the house of Vishnevetsky.
 * MARINA.                    He was hiding.
 * ROUZYA. I do not question it: but still do you know
 * What people say about him? That perhaps
 * He is a deacon run away from Moscow,
 * In his own district a notorious rogue.
 * MARINA. What nonsense!
 * ROUZYA.             O, I do not credit it!
 * I only say he ought to bless his fate
 * That you have so preferred him to the others.
 * WAITING-WOMAN. (Runs in.) The guests have come already.
 * MARINA.                          There you see;
 * You're ready to chatter silliness till daybreak.
 * Meanwhile I am not dressed--
 * ROUZYA.                  Within a moment
 * 'Twill be quite ready.
 * (The Waiting-women bustle.)
 * MARINA. (Aside.)    I must find out all.
 * He is a deacon run away from Moscow,
 * In his own district a notorious rogue.
 * MARINA. What nonsense!
 * ROUZYA.             O, I do not credit it!
 * I only say he ought to bless his fate
 * That you have so preferred him to the others.
 * WAITING-WOMAN. (Runs in.) The guests have come already.
 * MARINA.                          There you see;
 * You're ready to chatter silliness till daybreak.
 * Meanwhile I am not dressed--
 * ROUZYA.                  Within a moment
 * 'Twill be quite ready.
 * (The Waiting-women bustle.)
 * MARINA. (Aside.)    I must find out all.
 * ROUZYA.                  Within a moment
 * 'Twill be quite ready.
 * (The Waiting-women bustle.)
 * MARINA. (Aside.)    I must find out all.
 * (The Waiting-women bustle.)
 * MARINA. (Aside.)    I must find out all.
 * MARINA. (Aside.)    I must find out all.

A SUITE OF LIGHTED ROOMS.

 * VISHNEVETSKY, MNISHEK
 * MNISHEK. With none but my Marina doth he speak,
 * With no one else consorteth--and that business
 * Looks dreadfully like marriage. Now confess,
 * Didst ever think my daughter would be a queen?
 * VISHNEVETSKY. 'Tis wonderful.--And, Mnishek, didst thou think
 * My servant would ascend the throne of Moscow?
 * MNISHEK. And what a girl, look you, is my Marina.
 * I merely hinted to her: "Now, be careful!
 * Let not Dimitry slip"--and lo! Already
 * He is completely tangled in her toils.
 * (The band plays a Polonaise. The PRETENDER and
 * MARINA advance as the first couple.)
 * MARINA. (Sotto voce to Dimitry.) Tomorrow evening at eleven, beside
 * The fountain in the avenue of lime-trees.
 * (They walk off. A second couple.)
 * CAVALIER. What can Dimitry see in her?
 * DAME.                               How say you?
 * She is a beauty.
 * CAVALIER.     Yes, a marble nymph;
 * Eyes, lips, devoid of life, without a smile.
 * (A fresh couple.)
 * DAME. He is not handsome, but his eyes are pleasing,
 * And one can see he is of royal birth.
 * (A fresh couple.)
 * DAME. When will the army march?
 * CAVALIER.                    When the tsarevich
 * Orders it; we are ready; but 'tis clear
 * The lady Mnishek and Dimitry mean
 * To keep us prisoners here.
 * DAME.                   A pleasant durance.
 * CAVALIER. Truly, if you...
 * (They walk off; the rooms become empty.)
 * MNISHEK.         We old ones dance no longer;
 * The sound of music lures us not; we press not
 * Nor kiss the hands of charmers--ah! My friend,
 * I've not forgotten the old pranks! Things now
 * Are not what once they were, what once they were!
 * Youth, I'll be sworn, is not so bold, nor beauty
 * So lively; everything--confess, my friend--
 * Has somehow become dull. So let us leave them;
 * My comrade, let us go and find a flask
 * Of old Hungarian overgrown with mould;
 * Let's bid my butler open an old bottle,
 * And in a quiet corner, tete-a-tete,
 * Let's drain a draught, a stream as thick as fat;
 * And while we're so engaged, let's think things over.
 * Let us go, brother.
 * VISHNEVETSKY.    Yes, my friend, let's go.
 * (They walk off; the rooms become empty.)
 * MNISHEK.         We old ones dance no longer;
 * The sound of music lures us not; we press not
 * Nor kiss the hands of charmers--ah! My friend,
 * I've not forgotten the old pranks! Things now
 * Are not what once they were, what once they were!
 * Youth, I'll be sworn, is not so bold, nor beauty
 * So lively; everything--confess, my friend--
 * Has somehow become dull. So let us leave them;
 * My comrade, let us go and find a flask
 * Of old Hungarian overgrown with mould;
 * Let's bid my butler open an old bottle,
 * And in a quiet corner, tete-a-tete,
 * Let's drain a draught, a stream as thick as fat;
 * And while we're so engaged, let's think things over.
 * Let us go, brother.
 * VISHNEVETSKY.    Yes, my friend, let's go.
 * Let us go, brother.
 * VISHNEVETSKY.    Yes, my friend, let's go.
 * VISHNEVETSKY.    Yes, my friend, let's go.

NIGHT. A GARDEN. A FOUNTAIN

 * PRETENDER. (Enters.) Here is the fountain; hither will she come.
 * I was not born a coward; I have seen
 * Death near at hand, and face to face with death
 * My spirit hath not blenched. A life-long dungeon
 * Hath threatened me, I have been close pursued,
 * And yet my spirit quailed not, and by boldness
 * I have escaped captivity. But what
 * Is this which now constricts my breath? What means
 * This overpowering tremor, or this quivering
 * Of tense desire? No, this is fear. All day
 * I have waited for this secret meeting, pondered
 * On all that I should say to her, how best
 * I might enmesh Marina's haughty mind,
 * Calling her queen of Moscow. But the hour
 * Has come--and I remember naught, I cannot
 * Recall the speeches I have learned by rote;
 * Love puts imagination to confusion--
 * But something there gleamed suddenly--a rustling;
 * Hush--no, it was the moon's deceitful light,
 * It was the rustling of the breeze.
 * MARINA. (Enters.)               Tsarevich!
 * PRETENDER. 'Tis she. Now all the blood in me stands still.
 * MARINA. Dimitry! Is it thou?
 * PRETENDER.                Bewitching voice!
 * (Goes to her.)
 * Is it thou, at last? Is it thou I see, alone
 * With me, beneath the roof of quiet night?
 * How slowly passed the tedious day! How slowly
 * The glow of evening died away! How long
 * I have waited in the gloom of night!
 * MARINA.                           The hours
 * Are flitting fast, and time is precious to me.
 * I did not grant a meeting here to thee
 * To listen to a lover's tender speeches.
 * No need of words. I well believe thou lovest;
 * But listen; with thy stormy, doubtful fate
 * I have resolved to join my own; but one thing,
 * Dimitry, I require; I claim that thou
 * Disclose to me thy secret hopes, thy plans,
 * Even thy fears, that hand in hand with thee
 * I may confront life boldly--not in blindness
 * Of childlike ignorance, not as the slave
 * And plaything of my husband's light desires,
 * Thy speechless concubine, but as thy spouse,
 * And worthy helpmate of the tsar of Moscow.
 * PRETENDER. O, if it be only for one short hour,
 * Forget the cares and troubles of my fate!
 * Forget 'tis the tsarevich whom thou seest
 * Before thee. O, behold in me, Marina,
 * A lover, by thee chosen, happy only
 * In thy regard. O, listen to the prayers
 * Of love! Grant me to utter all wherewith
 * My heart is full.
 * MARINA.        Prince, this is not the time;
 * Thou loiterest, and meanwhile the devotion
 * Of thine adherents cooleth. Hour by hour
 * Danger becomes more dangerous, difficulties
 * More difficult; already dubious rumours
 * Are current, novelty already takes
 * The place of novelty; and Godunov
 * Adopts his measures.
 * PRETENDER.        What is Godunov?
 * Is thy sweet love, my only blessedness,
 * Swayed by Boris? Nay, nay. Indifferently
 * I now regard his throne, his kingly power.
 * Thy love--without it what to me is life,
 * And glory's glitter, and the state of Russia?
 * On the dull steppe, in a poor mud hut, thou--
 * Thou wilt requite me for the kingly crown;
 * Thy love--
 * MARINA. For shame! Forget not, prince, thy high
 * And sacred destiny; thy dignity
 * Should be to thee more dear than all the joys
 * Of life and its allurements. It thou canst not
 * With anything compare. Not to a boy,
 * Insanely boiling, captured by my beauty--
 * But to the heir of Moscow's throne give I
 * My hand in solemn wise, to the tsarevich
 * Rescued by destiny.
 * PRETENDER.       Torture me not,
 * Charming Marina; say not that 'twas my rank
 * And not myself that thou didst choose. Marina!
 * Thou knowest not how sorely thou dost wound
 * My heart thereby. What if--O fearful doubt!--
 * Say, if blind destiny had not assigned me
 * A kingly birth; if I were not indeed
 * Son of Ivan, were not this boy, so long
 * Forgotten by the world--say, then wouldst thou
 * Have loved me?
 * MARINA.     Thou art Dimitry, and aught else
 * Thou canst not be; it is not possible
 * For me to love another.
 * PRETENDER.           Nay! Enough--
 * I have no wish to share with a dead body
 * A mistress who belongs to him; I have done
 * With counterfeiting, and will tell the truth.
 * Know, then, that thy Dimitry long ago
 * Perished, was buried--and will not rise again;
 * And dost thou wish to know what man I am?
 * Well, I will tell thee. I am--a poor monk.
 * Grown weary of monastic servitude,
 * I pondered 'neath the cowl my bold design,
 * Made ready for the world a miracle--
 * And from my cell at last fled to the Cossacks,
 * To their wild hovels; there I learned to handle
 * Both steeds and swords; I showed myself to you.
 * I called myself Dimitry, and deceived
 * The brainless Poles. What say'st thou, proud Marina?
 * Art thou content with my confession? Why
 * Dost thou keep silence?
 * MARINA.              O shame! O woe is me!
 * (Silence.)
 * PRETENDER. (Sotto voce.) O whither hath a fit of anger led me?
 * The happiness devised with so much labour
 * I have, perchance, destroyed for ever. Idiot,
 * What have I done? (Aloud.) I see thou art ashamed
 * Of love not princely; so pronounce on me
 * The fatal word; my fate is in thy hands.
 * Decide; I wait.
 * (Falls on his knees.)
 * MARINA.      Rise, poor pretender! Think'st thou
 * To please with genuflex on my vain heart,
 * As if I were a weak, confiding girl?
 * You err, my friend; prone at my feet I've seen
 * Knights and counts nobly born; but not for this
 * Did I reject their prayers, that a poor monk--
 * PRETENDER. (Rises.) Scorn not the young pretender; noble virtues
 * May lie perchance in him, virtues well worthy
 * Of Moscow's throne, even of thy priceless hand--
 * MARINA. Say of a shameful noose, insolent wretch!
 * PRETENDER. I am to blame; carried away by pride
 * I have deceived God and the kings--have lied
 * To the world; but it is not for thee, Marina,
 * To judge me; I am guiltless before thee.
 * No, I could not deceive thee. Thou to me
 * Wast the one sacred being, before thee
 * I dared not to dissemble; love alone,
 * Love, jealous, blind, constrained me to tell all.
 * MARINA. What's that to boast of, idiot? Who demanded
 * Confession of thee? If thou, a nameless vagrant
 * Couldst wonderfully blind two nations, then
 * At least thou shouldst have merited success,
 * And thy bold fraud secured, by constant, deep,
 * And lasting secrecy. Say, can I yield
 * Myself to thee, can I, forgetting rank
 * And maiden modesty, unite my fate
 * With thine, when thou thyself impetuously
 * Dost thus with such simplicity reveal
 * Thy shame? It was from Love he blabbed to me!
 * I marvel wherefore thou hast not from friendship
 * Disclosed thyself ere now before my father,
 * Or else before our king from joy, or else
 * Before Prince Vishnevetsky from the zeal
 * Of a devoted servant.
 * PRETENDER.         I swear to thee
 * That thou alone wast able to extort
 * My heart's confession; I swear to thee that never,
 * Nowhere, not in the feast, not in the cup
 * Of folly, not in friendly confidence,
 * Not 'neath the knife nor tortures of the rack,
 * Shall my tongue give away these weighty secrets.
 * MARINA. Thou swearest! Then I must believe. Believe,
 * Of course! But may I learn by what thou swearest?
 * Is it not by the name of God, as suits
 * The Jesuits' devout adopted son?
 * Or by thy honour as a high-born knight?
 * Or, maybe, by thy royal word alone
 * As a king's son? Is it not so? Declare.
 * PRETENDER. (Proudly.) The phantom of the Terrible hath made me
 * His son; from out the sepulchre hath named me
 * Dimitry, hath stirred up the people round me,
 * And hath consigned Boris to be my victim.
 * I am tsarevich. Enough! 'Twere shame for me
 * To stoop before a haughty Polish dame.
 * Farewell for ever; the game of bloody war,
 * The wide cares of my destiny, will smother,
 * I hope, the pangs Of love. O, when the heat
 * Of shameful passion is o'erspent, how then
 * Shall I detest thee! Now I leave thee--ruin,
 * Or else a crown, awaits my head in Russia;
 * Whether I meet with death as fits a soldier
 * In honourable fight, or as a miscreant
 * Upon the public scaffold, thou shalt not
 * Be my companion, nor shalt share with me
 * My fate; but it may be thou shalt regret
 * The destiny thou hast refused.
 * MARINA.                     But what
 * If I expose beforehand thy bold fraud
 * To all men?
 * PRETENDER. Dost thou think I fear thee? Think'st thou
 * They will believe a Polish maiden more
 * Than Russia's own tsarevich? Know, proud lady,
 * That neither king, nor pope, nor nobles trouble
 * Whether my words be true, whether I be
 * Dimitry or another. What care they?
 * But I provide a pretext for revolt
 * And war; and this is all they need; and thee,
 * Rebellious one, believe me, they will force
 * To hold thy peace. Farewell.
 * MARINA.                   Tsarevich, stay!
 * At last I hear the speech not of a boy,
 * But of a man. It reconciles me to thee.
 * Prince, I forget thy senseless outburst, see
 * Again Dimitry. Listen; now is the time!
 * Hasten; delay no more, lead on thy troops
 * Quickly to Moscow, purge the Kremlin, take
 * Thy seat upon the throne of Moscow; then
 * Send me the nuptial envoy; but, God hears me,
 * Until thy foot be planted on its steps,
 * Until by thee Boris be overthrown,
 * I am not one to listen to love-speeches.
 * PRETENDER. No--easier far to strive with Godunov.
 * Or play false with the Jesuits of the Court,
 * Than with a woman. Deuce take them; they're beyond
 * My power. She twists, and coils, and crawls, slips out
 * Of hand, she hisses, threatens, bites. Ah, serpent!
 * Serpent! 'Twas not for nothing that I trembled.
 * She well-nigh ruined me; but I'm resolved;
 * At daybreak I will put my troops in motion.
 * They will believe a Polish maiden more
 * Than Russia's own tsarevich? Know, proud lady,
 * That neither king, nor pope, nor nobles trouble
 * Whether my words be true, whether I be
 * Dimitry or another. What care they?
 * But I provide a pretext for revolt
 * And war; and this is all they need; and thee,
 * Rebellious one, believe me, they will force
 * To hold thy peace. Farewell.
 * MARINA.                   Tsarevich, stay!
 * At last I hear the speech not of a boy,
 * But of a man. It reconciles me to thee.
 * Prince, I forget thy senseless outburst, see
 * Again Dimitry. Listen; now is the time!
 * Hasten; delay no more, lead on thy troops
 * Quickly to Moscow, purge the Kremlin, take
 * Thy seat upon the throne of Moscow; then
 * Send me the nuptial envoy; but, God hears me,
 * Until thy foot be planted on its steps,
 * Until by thee Boris be overthrown,
 * I am not one to listen to love-speeches.
 * PRETENDER. No--easier far to strive with Godunov.
 * Or play false with the Jesuits of the Court,
 * Than with a woman. Deuce take them; they're beyond
 * My power. She twists, and coils, and crawls, slips out
 * Of hand, she hisses, threatens, bites. Ah, serpent!
 * Serpent! 'Twas not for nothing that I trembled.
 * She well-nigh ruined me; but I'm resolved;
 * At daybreak I will put my troops in motion.
 * She well-nigh ruined me; but I'm resolved;
 * At daybreak I will put my troops in motion.

THE LITHUANIAN FRONTIER

 * (OCTOBER 16TH, 1604)
 * PRINCE KURBSKY and PRETENDER, both
 * on horseback. Troops approach the Frontier
 * KURBSKY. (Galloping at their head.)
 * There, there it is; there is the Russian frontier!
 * Fatherland! Holy Russia! I am thine!
 * With scorn from off my clothing now I shake
 * The foreign dust, and greedily I drink
 * New air; it is my native air. O father,
 * Thy soul hath now been solaced; in the grave
 * Thy bones, disgraced, thrill with a sudden joy!
 * Again doth flash our old ancestral sword,
 * This glorious sword--the dread of dark Kazan!
 * This good sword--servant of the tsars of Moscow!
 * Now will it revel in its feast of slaughter,
 * Serving the master of its hopes.
 * PRETENDER. (Moves quietly with bowed head.) How happy
 * Is he, how flushed with gladness and with glory
 * His stainless soul! Brave knight, I envy thee!
 * The son of Kurbsky, nurtured in exile,
 * Forgetting all the wrongs borne by thy father,
 * Redeeming his transgression in the grave,
 * Ready art thou for the son of great Ivan
 * To shed thy blood, to give the fatherland
 * Its lawful tsar. Righteous art thou; thy soul
 * Should flame with joy.
 * KURBSKY.            And dost not thou likewise
 * Rejoice in spirit? There lies our Russia; she
 * Is thine, tsarevich! There thy people's hearts
 * Are waiting for thee, there thy Moscow waits,
 * Thy Kremlin, thy dominion.
 * PRETENDER.              Russian blood,
 * O Kurbsky, first must flow! Thou for the tsar
 * Hast drawn the sword, thou art stainless; but I lead you
 * Against your brothers; I am summoning
 * Lithuania against Russia; I am showing
 * To foes the longed-for way to beauteous Moscow!
 * But let my sin fall not on me, but thee,
 * Boris, the regicide! Forward! Set on!
 * KURBSKY. Forward! Advance! And woe to Godunov.
 * (They gallop. The troops cross the frontier.)
 * Lithuania against Russia; I am showing
 * To foes the longed-for way to beauteous Moscow!
 * But let my sin fall not on me, but thee,
 * Boris, the regicide! Forward! Set on!
 * KURBSKY. Forward! Advance! And woe to Godunov.
 * (They gallop. The troops cross the frontier.)
 * (They gallop. The troops cross the frontier.)
 * (They gallop. The troops cross the frontier.)

THE COUNCIL OF THE TSAR

 * The TSAR, the PATRIARCH and Boyars
 * TSAR. Is it possible? An unfrocked monk against us
 * Leads rascal troops, a truant friar dares write
 * Threats to us! Then 'tis time to tame the madman!
 * Trubetskoy, set thou forth, and thou Basmanov;
 * My zealous governors need help. Chernigov
 * Already by the rebel is besieged;
 * Rescue the city and citizens.
 * BASMANOV.                  Three months
 * Shall not pass, Sire, ere even rumour's tongue
 * Shall cease to speak of the pretender; caged
 * In iron, like a wild beast from oversea,
 * We'll hale him into Moscow, I swear by God.
 * (Exit with TRUBETSKOY.)
 * TSAR. The Lord of Sweden hath by envoys tendered
 * Alliance to me. But we have no need
 * To lean on foreign aid; we have enough
 * Of our own warlike people to repel
 * Traitors and Poles. I have refused.--Shchelkalov!
 * In every district to the governors
 * Send edicts, that they mount their steeds, and send
 * The people as of old on service; likewise
 * Ride to the monasteries, and there enlist
 * The servants of the churchmen. In days of old,
 * When danger faced our country, hermits freely
 * Went into battle; it is not now our wish
 * To trouble them; no, let them pray for us;
 * Such is the tsar's decree, such the resolve
 * Of his boyars. And now a weighty question
 * We shall determine; ye know how everywhere
 * The insolent pretender hath spread abroad
 * His artful rumours; letters everywhere,
 * By him distributed, have sowed alarm
 * And doubt; seditious whispers to and fro
 * Pass in the market-places; minds are seething.
 * We needs must cool them; gladly would I refrain
 * From executions, but by what means and how?
 * That we will now determine. Holy father,
 * Thou first declare thy thought.
 * PATRIARCH.                   The Blessed One,
 * The All-Highest, hath instilled into thy soul,
 * Great lord, the spirit of kindness and meek patience;
 * Thou wishest not perdition for the sinner,
 * Thou wilt wait quietly, until delusion
 * Shall pass away; for pass away it will,
 * And truth's eternal sun will dawn on all.
 * Thy faithful bedesman, one in worldly matters
 * No prudent judge, ventures today to offer
 * His voice to thee. This offspring of the devil,
 * This unfrocked monk, has known how to appear
 * Dimitry to the people. Shamelessly
 * He clothed himself with the name of the tsarevich
 * As with a stolen vestment. It only needs
 * To tear it off--and he'll be put to shame
 * By his own nakedness. The means thereto
 * God hath Himself supplied. Know, sire, six years
 * Since then have fled; 'twas in that very year
 * When to the seat of sovereignty the Lord
 * Anointed thee--there came to me one evening
 * A simple shepherd, a venerable old man,
 * Who told me a strange secret. "In my young days,"
 * He said, "I lost my sight, and thenceforth knew not
 * Nor day, nor night, till my old age; in vain
 * I plied myself with herbs and secret spells;
 * In vain did I resort in adoration
 * To the great wonder-workers in the cloister;
 * Bathed my dark eyes in vain with healing water
 * From out the holy wells. The Lord vouchsafed not
 * Healing to me. Then lost I hope at last,
 * And grew accustomed to my darkness. Even
 * Slumber showed not to me things visible,
 * Only of sounds I dreamed. Once in deep sleep
 * I hear a childish voice; it speaks to me:
 * `Arise, grandfather, go to Uglich town,
 * To the Cathedral of Transfiguration;
 * There pray over my grave. The Lord is gracious--
 * And I shall pardon thee.' `But who art thou?'
 * I asked the childish voice. `I am the tsarevich
 * Dimitry, whom the Heavenly Tsar hath taken
 * Into His angel band, and I am now
 * A mighty wonder-worker. Go, old man.'
 * I woke, and pondered. What is this? Maybe
 * God will in very deed vouchsafe to me
 * Belated healing. I will go. I bent
 * My footsteps to the distant road. I reached
 * Uglich, repair unto the holy minster,
 * Hear mass, and, glowing with zealous soul, I weep
 * Sweetly, as if the blindness from mine eyes
 * Were flowing out in tears. And when the people
 * Began to leave, to my grandson I said:
 * `Lead me, Ivan, to the grave of the tsarevich
 * Dimitry .' The boy led me--and I scarce
 * Had shaped before the grave a silent prayer,
 * When sight illumed my eyeballs; I beheld
 * The light of God, my grandson, and the tomb."
 * That is the tale, Sire, which the old man told.
 * (General agitation. In the course of this speech Boris
 * several times wipes his face with his handkerchief.)
 * To Uglich then I sent, where it was learned
 * That many sufferers had found likewise
 * Deliverance at the grave of the tsarevich.
 * This is my counsel; to the Kremlin send
 * The sacred relics, place them in the Cathedral
 * Of the Archangel; clearly will the people
 * See then the godless villain's fraud; the might
 * Of the fiends will vanish as a cloud of dust.
 * (Silence.)
 * PRINCE SHUISKY. What mortal, holy father, knoweth the ways
 * Of the All-Highest? 'Tis not for me to judge Him.
 * Untainted sleep and power of wonder-working
 * He may upon the child's remains bestow;
 * But vulgar rumour must dispassionately
 * And diligently be tested; is it for us,
 * In stormy times of insurrection,
 * To weigh so great a matter? Will men not say
 * That insolently we made of sacred things
 * A worldly instrument? Even now the people
 * Sway senselessly this way and that, even now
 * There are enough already of loud rumours;
 * This is no time to vex the people's minds
 * With aught so unexpected, grave, and strange.
 * I myself see 'tis needful to demolish
 * The rumour spread abroad by the unfrocked monk;
 * But for this end other and simpler means
 * Will serve. Therefore, when it shall please thee, Sire,
 * I will myself appear in public places,
 * I will persuade, exhort away this madness,
 * And will expose the vagabond's vile fraud.
 * TSAR. So be it! My lord Patriarch, I pray thee
 * Go with us to the palace, where today
 * I must converse with thee.
 * (Exeunt; all the boyars follow them.)
 * 1ST BOYAR. (Sotto voce to another.) Didst mark how pale
 * Our sovereign turned, how from his face there poured
 * A mighty sweat?
 * 2ND BOYAR.   I durst not, I confess,
 * Uplift mine eyes, nor breathe, nor even stir.
 * 1ST BOYAR. Prince Shuisky has pulled it through. A
 * splendid fellow!
 * TSAR. So be it! My lord Patriarch, I pray thee
 * Go with us to the palace, where today
 * I must converse with thee.
 * (Exeunt; all the boyars follow them.)
 * 1ST BOYAR. (Sotto voce to another.) Didst mark how pale
 * Our sovereign turned, how from his face there poured
 * A mighty sweat?
 * 2ND BOYAR.   I durst not, I confess,
 * Uplift mine eyes, nor breathe, nor even stir.
 * 1ST BOYAR. Prince Shuisky has pulled it through. A
 * splendid fellow!
 * Uplift mine eyes, nor breathe, nor even stir.
 * 1ST BOYAR. Prince Shuisky has pulled it through. A
 * splendid fellow!
 * splendid fellow!

A PLAIN NEAR NOVGOROD SEVERSK

 * (DECEMBER 21st, 1604)
 * A BATTLE
 * SOLDIERS. (Run in disorder.) Woe, woe! The Tsarevich!
 * The Poles! There they are! There they are!
 * (Captains enter: MARZHERET and WALTHER ROZEN.)
 * MARZHERET. Whither, whither? Allons! Go back!
 * ONE OF THE FUGITIVES. You go back, if you like, cursed
 * infidel.
 * MARZHERET. Quoi, quoi?
 * ANOTHER. Kva! kva! You like, you frog from over the
 * sea, to croak at the Russian tsarevich; but we--we are
 * orthodox.
 * MARZHERET. Qu'est-ce a dire "orthodox"? Sacres gueux,
 * maudite canaille! Mordieu, mein Herr, j'enrage; on
 * dirait que ca n'a pas de bras pour frapper, ca n'a que des
 * jambes pour fuir.
 * ROZEN. Es ist Schande.
 * MARZHERET. Ventre-saint gris! Je ne bouge plus d'un pas;
 * puisque le vin est tire, il faut le boire. Qu'en dites-vous,
 * mein Herr?
 * ROZEN. Sie haben Recht.
 * MARZHERET. Tudieu, il y fait chaud! Ce diable de "Pretender,"
 * comme ils l'appellent, est un bougre, qui a du
 * poil au col?--Qu'en pensez-vous, mein Herr?
 * ROZEN. Ja.
 * MARZHERET. He! Voyez donc, voyez donc! L'action s'engage
 * sur les derrieres de l'ennemi. Ce doit etre le brave
 * Basmanov, qui aurait fait une sortie.
 * ROZEN. Ich glaube das.
 * (Enter Germans.)
 * MARZHERET. Ha, ha! Voici nos allemands. Messieurs!
 * Mein Herr, dites-leur donc de se raillier et, sacrebleu,
 * chargeons!
 * ROZEN. Sehr gut. Halt! (The Germans halt.) Marsch!
 * THE GERMANS. (They march.) Hilf Gott!
 * (Fight. The Russians flee again.)
 * POLES. Victory! Victory! Glory to the tsar Dimitry!
 * DIMITRY. (On horseback.) Cease fighting. We have
 * conquered. Enough! Spare Russian blood. Cease
 * fighting.
 * MARZHERET. He! Voyez donc, voyez donc! L'action s'engage
 * sur les derrieres de l'ennemi. Ce doit etre le brave
 * Basmanov, qui aurait fait une sortie.
 * ROZEN. Ich glaube das.
 * (Enter Germans.)
 * MARZHERET. Ha, ha! Voici nos allemands. Messieurs!
 * Mein Herr, dites-leur donc de se raillier et, sacrebleu,
 * chargeons!
 * ROZEN. Sehr gut. Halt! (The Germans halt.) Marsch!
 * THE GERMANS. (They march.) Hilf Gott!
 * (Fight. The Russians flee again.)
 * POLES. Victory! Victory! Glory to the tsar Dimitry!
 * DIMITRY. (On horseback.) Cease fighting. We have
 * conquered. Enough! Spare Russian blood. Cease
 * fighting.
 * (Fight. The Russians flee again.)
 * POLES. Victory! Victory! Glory to the tsar Dimitry!
 * DIMITRY. (On horseback.) Cease fighting. We have
 * conquered. Enough! Spare Russian blood. Cease
 * fighting.
 * DIMITRY. (On horseback.) Cease fighting. We have
 * conquered. Enough! Spare Russian blood. Cease
 * fighting.

OPEN SPACE IN FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL IN MOSCOW

 * THE PEOPLE
 * ONE OF THE PEOPLE. Will the tsar soon come out of the
 * Cathedral?
 * ANOTHER. The mass is ended; now the Te Deum is going on.
 * THE FIRST. What! Have they already cursed him?
 * THE SECOND. I stood in the porch and heard how the deacon
 * cried out:--Grishka Otrepiev is anathema!
 * THE FIRST. Let him curse to his heart's content; the
 * tsarevich has nothing to do with the Otrepiev.
 * THE SECOND. But they are now singing mass for the repose
 * of the soul of the tsarevich.
 * THE FIRST. What? A mass for the dead sung for a living
 * Man? They'll suffer for it, the godless wretches!
 * A THIRD. Hist! A sound. Is it not the tsar?
 * A FOURTH. No, it is the idiot.
 * (An idiot enters, in an iron cap, hung round with
 * chains, surrounded by boys.)
 * THE BOYS. Nick, Nick, iron nightcap! T-r-r-r-r--
 * OLD WOMAN. Let him be, you young devils. Innocent one,
 * pray thou for me a sinner.
 * IDIOT. Give, give, give a penny.
 * OLD WOMAN. There is a penny for thee; remember me in
 * thy prayers.
 * IDIOT. (Seats himself on the ground and sings:)
 * The moon sails on,
 * The kitten cries,
 * Nick, arise,
 * Pray to God.
 * (The boys surround him again.)
 * ONE OF THEM. How do you do, Nick? Why don't you
 * take off your cap?
 * (Raps him on the iron cap.)
 * How it rings!
 * IDIOT. But I have got a penny.
 * BOYS. That's not true; now, show it.
 * (They snatch the penny and run away.)
 * IDIOT. (Weeps.) They have taken my penny, they are
 * hurting Nick.
 * THE PEOPLE. The tsar, the tsar is coming!
 * (The TSAR comes out from the Cathedral; a boyar in
 * front of him scatters alms among the poor. Boyars.)
 * IDIOT. Boris, Boris! The boys are hurting Nick.
 * TSAR. Give him alms! What is he crying for?
 * IDIOT. The boys are hurting me...Give orders to slay
 * them, as thou slewest the little tsarevich.
 * BOYARS. Go away, fool! Seize the fool!
 * TSAR. Leave him alone. Pray thou for me, Nick.
 * (Exit.)
 * IDIOT. (To himself.) No, no! It is impossible to pray for
 * tsar Herod; the Mother of God forbids it.
 * (Raps him on the iron cap.)
 * How it rings!
 * IDIOT. But I have got a penny.
 * BOYS. That's not true; now, show it.
 * (They snatch the penny and run away.)
 * IDIOT. (Weeps.) They have taken my penny, they are
 * hurting Nick.
 * THE PEOPLE. The tsar, the tsar is coming!
 * (The TSAR comes out from the Cathedral; a boyar in
 * front of him scatters alms among the poor. Boyars.)
 * IDIOT. Boris, Boris! The boys are hurting Nick.
 * TSAR. Give him alms! What is he crying for?
 * IDIOT. The boys are hurting me...Give orders to slay
 * them, as thou slewest the little tsarevich.
 * BOYARS. Go away, fool! Seize the fool!
 * TSAR. Leave him alone. Pray thou for me, Nick.
 * (Exit.)
 * IDIOT. (To himself.) No, no! It is impossible to pray for
 * tsar Herod; the Mother of God forbids it.
 * IDIOT. Boris, Boris! The boys are hurting Nick.
 * TSAR. Give him alms! What is he crying for?
 * IDIOT. The boys are hurting me...Give orders to slay
 * them, as thou slewest the little tsarevich.
 * BOYARS. Go away, fool! Seize the fool!
 * TSAR. Leave him alone. Pray thou for me, Nick.
 * (Exit.)
 * IDIOT. (To himself.) No, no! It is impossible to pray for
 * tsar Herod; the Mother of God forbids it.
 * TSAR. Leave him alone. Pray thou for me, Nick.
 * (Exit.)
 * IDIOT. (To himself.) No, no! It is impossible to pray for
 * tsar Herod; the Mother of God forbids it.
 * IDIOT. (To himself.) No, no! It is impossible to pray for
 * tsar Herod; the Mother of God forbids it.

SYEVSK

 * The PRETENDER, surrounded by his supporters
 * PRETENDER. Where is the prisoner?
 * A POLE.                        Here.
 * PRETENDER. Call him before me.
 * (A Russian prisoner enters.)
 * Who art thou?
 * PRISONER.  Rozhnov, a nobleman of Moscow.
 * PRETENDER. Hast long been in the service?
 * PRISONER.                              About a month.
 * PRETENDER. Art not ashamed, Rozhnov, that thou hast drawn
 * The sword against me?
 * PRISONER.          What else could I do?
 * 'Twas not our fault.
 * PRETENDER.        Didst fight beneath the walls
 * Of Seversk?
 * PRISONER. 'Twas two weeks after the battle
 * I came from Moscow.
 * PRETENDER.       What of Godunov?
 * PRISONER. The battle's loss, Mstislavsky's wound, hath caused him
 * Much apprehension; Shuisky he hath sent
 * To take command.
 * PRETENDER.    But why hath he recalled
 * Basmanov unto Moscow?
 * PRISONER.          The tsar rewarded
 * His services with honour and with gold.
 * Basmanov in the council of the tsar
 * Now sits.
 * PRETENDER. The army had more need of him.
 * Well, how go things in Moscow?
 * PRISONER.                   All is quiet,
 * Thank God.
 * PRETENDER. Say, do they look for me?
 * PRISONER.                         God knows;
 * They dare not talk too much there now. Of some
 * The tongues have been cut off, of others even
 * The heads. It is a fearsome state of things--
 * Each day an execution. All the prisons
 * Are crammed. Wherever two or three forgather
 * In public places, instantly a spy
 * Worms himself in; the tsar himself examines
 * At leisure the denouncers. It is just
 * Sheer misery; so silence is the best.
 * PRETENDER. An enviable life for the tsar's people!
 * Well, how about the army?
 * PRISONER.              What of them?
 * Clothed and full-fed they are content with all.
 * PRETENDER. But is there much of it?
 * PRISONER.                        God knows.
 * PRETENDER.                         All told
 * Will there be thirty thousand?
 * PRISONER.                   Yes; 'twill run
 * Even to fifty thousand.
 * (The Pretender reflects; those around him glance at
 * one another.)
 * PRETENDER.           Well! Of me
 * What say they in your camp?
 * PRISONER.                Your graciousness
 * They speak of; say that thou, Sire, (be not wrath),
 * Art a thief, but a fine fellow.
 * PRETENDER. (Laughing.)       Even so
 * I'll prove myself to them in deed. My friends,
 * We will not wait for Shuisky; I wish you joy;
 * Tomorrow, battle.
 * (Exit.)
 * ALL.           Long life to Dimitry!
 * A POLE. Tomorrow, battle! They are fifty thousand,
 * And we scarce fifteen thousand. He is mad!
 * ANOTHER. That's nothing, friend. A single Pole can challenge
 * Five hundred Muscovites.
 * PRISONER.             Yes, thou mayst challenge!
 * But when it comes to fighting, then, thou braggart,
 * Thou'lt run away.
 * POLE.          If thou hadst had a sword,
 * Insolent prisoner, then (pointing to his sword) with this I'ld soon
 * Have vanquished thee.
 * PRISONER.          A Russian can make shift
 * Without a sword; how like you this (shows his fist), you fool?
 * (The Pole looks at him haughtily and departs in
 * silence. All laugh.)
 * (The Pretender reflects; those around him glance at
 * one another.)
 * PRETENDER.           Well! Of me
 * What say they in your camp?
 * PRISONER.                Your graciousness
 * They speak of; say that thou, Sire, (be not wrath),
 * Art a thief, but a fine fellow.
 * PRETENDER. (Laughing.)       Even so
 * I'll prove myself to them in deed. My friends,
 * We will not wait for Shuisky; I wish you joy;
 * Tomorrow, battle.
 * (Exit.)
 * ALL.           Long life to Dimitry!
 * A POLE. Tomorrow, battle! They are fifty thousand,
 * And we scarce fifteen thousand. He is mad!
 * ANOTHER. That's nothing, friend. A single Pole can challenge
 * Five hundred Muscovites.
 * PRISONER.             Yes, thou mayst challenge!
 * But when it comes to fighting, then, thou braggart,
 * Thou'lt run away.
 * POLE.          If thou hadst had a sword,
 * Insolent prisoner, then (pointing to his sword) with this I'ld soon
 * Have vanquished thee.
 * PRISONER.          A Russian can make shift
 * Without a sword; how like you this (shows his fist), you fool?
 * (The Pole looks at him haughtily and departs in
 * silence. All laugh.)
 * But when it comes to fighting, then, thou braggart,
 * Thou'lt run away.
 * POLE.          If thou hadst had a sword,
 * Insolent prisoner, then (pointing to his sword) with this I'ld soon
 * Have vanquished thee.
 * PRISONER.          A Russian can make shift
 * Without a sword; how like you this (shows his fist), you fool?
 * (The Pole looks at him haughtily and departs in
 * silence. All laugh.)
 * (The Pole looks at him haughtily and departs in
 * silence. All laugh.)
 * silence. All laugh.)

A FOREST

 * PRETENDER and PUSHKIN
 * (In the background lies a dying horse)
 * PRETENDER. Ah, my poor horse! How gallantly he charged
 * Today in the last battle, and when wounded,
 * How swiftly bore me. My poor horse!
 * PUSHKIN. (To himself.)           Well, here's
 * A great ado about a horse, when all
 * Our army's smashed to bits.
 * PRETENDER.               Listen! Perhaps
 * He's but exhausted by the loss of blood,
 * And will recover.
 * PUSHKIN.       Nay, nay; he is dying.
 * PRETENDER. (Goes to his horse.)
 * My poor horse!--what to do? Take off the bridle,
 * And loose the girth. Let him at least die free.
 * (He unbridles and unsaddles the horse. Some Poles
 * enter.)
 * Good day to you, gentlemen! How is't I see not
 * Kurbsky among you? I did note today
 * How to the thick of the fight he clove his path;
 * Around the hero's sword, like swaying ears
 * Of corn, hosts thronged; but higher than all of them
 * His blade was brandished, and his terrible cry
 * Drowned all cries else. Where is my knight?
 * POLE.                                    He fell
 * On the field of battle.
 * PRETENDER.           Honour to the brave,
 * And peace be on his soul! How few unscathed
 * Are left us from the fight! Accursed Cossacks,
 * Traitors and miscreants, you, you it is
 * Have ruined us! Not even for three minutes
 * To keep the foe at bay! I'll teach the villains!
 * Every tenth man I'll hang. Brigands!
 * PUSHKIN.                          Whoe'er
 * Be guilty, all the same we were clean worsted,
 * Routed!
 * PRETENDER. But yet we nearly conquered. Just
 * When I had dealt with their front rank, the Germans
 * Repulsed us utterly. But they're fine fellows!
 * By God! Fine fellows! I love them for it. From them
 * I'll form an honourable troop.
 * PUSHKIN.                    And where
 * Shall we now spend the night?
 * PRETENDER.                 Why, here, in the forest.
 * Why not this for our night quarters? At daybreak
 * We'll take the road, and dine in Rilsk. Good night.
 * (He lies down, puts a saddle under his head, and falls
 * asleep.)
 * PUSHKIN. A pleasant sleep, tsarevich! Smashed to bits,
 * Rescued by flight alone, he is as careless
 * As a simple child; 'tis clear that Providence
 * Protects him, and we, my friends, will not lose heart.
 * By God! Fine fellows! I love them for it. From them
 * I'll form an honourable troop.
 * PUSHKIN.                    And where
 * Shall we now spend the night?
 * PRETENDER.                 Why, here, in the forest.
 * Why not this for our night quarters? At daybreak
 * We'll take the road, and dine in Rilsk. Good night.
 * (He lies down, puts a saddle under his head, and falls
 * asleep.)
 * PUSHKIN. A pleasant sleep, tsarevich! Smashed to bits,
 * Rescued by flight alone, he is as careless
 * As a simple child; 'tis clear that Providence
 * Protects him, and we, my friends, will not lose heart.
 * PUSHKIN. A pleasant sleep, tsarevich! Smashed to bits,
 * Rescued by flight alone, he is as careless
 * As a simple child; 'tis clear that Providence
 * Protects him, and we, my friends, will not lose heart.

MOSCOW. PALACE OF THE TSAR

 * BORIS. BASMANOV
 * TSAR. He is vanquished, but what profit lies in that?
 * We are crowned with a vain conquest; he has mustered
 * Again his scattered forces, and anew
 * Threatens us from the ramparts of Putivl.
 * Meanwhile what are our heroes doing? They stand
 * At Krom, where from its rotten battlements
 * A band of Cossacks braves them. There is glory!
 * No, I am ill content with them; thyself
 * I shall despatch to take command of them;
 * I give authority not to birth, but brains.
 * Their pride of precedence, let it be wounded!
 * The time has come for me to hold in scorn
 * The murmur of distinguished nobodies,
 * And quash pernicious custom.
 * BASMANOV.                 Ay, my lord
 * Blessed a hundredfold will be that day
 * When fire consumes the lists of noblemen
 * With their dissensions, their ancestral pride.
 * TSAR. That day is not far off; let me but first
 * Subdue the insurrection of the people.
 * BASMANOV. Why trouble about that? The people always
 * Are prone to secret treason; even so
 * The swift steed champs the bit; so doth a lad
 * Chafe at his father's ruling. But what then?
 * The rider quietly controls the steed,
 * The father sways the son.
 * TSAR.                  Sometimes the horse
 * Doth throw the rider, nor is the son at all times
 * Quite 'neath the father's will; we can restrain
 * The people only by unsleeping sternness.
 * So thought Ivan, sagacious autocrat
 * And storm-subduer; so his fierce grandson thought.
 * No, no, kindness is lost upon the people;
 * Act well--it thanks you not at all; extort
 * And execute--'twill be no worse for you.
 * (Enter a boyar.)
 * What now?
 * BOYAR. The foreign guests are come.
 * TSAR.                             I go
 * To welcome them. Basmanov, wait, stay here;
 * I still have need to speak: a word with thee.
 * (Exit.)
 * BASMANOV. High sovereign spirit! God grant he may subdue
 * The accurst Otrepiev; and much, still much
 * Of good he'll do for Russia. A great thought
 * Within his mind has taken birth; it must not
 * Be suffered to grow cold. What a career
 * For me when the ancestral horn he breaks
 * Of the nobility. I have no rivals
 * In war. I shall stand closest to the throne--
 * And it may chance-- But what is that strange sound?
 * (Alarum. Boyars and court-attendants run in
 * disorder, meet each other and whisper.)
 * ONE. Fetch a physician!
 * ANOTHER.             Quickly to the Patriarch!
 * A THIRD. He calls for the tsarevich, the tsarevich!
 * A FOURTH. A confessor!
 * BASMANOV.           What has happened?
 * A FIFTH AND SIXTH.                   The tsar is ill,
 * The tsar is dying.
 * BASMANOV.       Good God!
 * A FIFTH.                Upon the throne
 * He sat, and suddenly he fell; blood gushed
 * From his mouth and ears.
 * (The TSAR is carried in on a chair. All the Tsar's
 * household; all the boyars.)
 * TSAR.                 Let all depart--alone
 * Leave the tsarevich with me. (All withdraw.) I am dying;
 * Let us embrace. Farewell, my son; this hour
 * Thou wilt begin to reign.--O God, my God!
 * This hour I shall appear before Thy presence--
 * And have no time to purge my soul with shrift.
 * But yet, my son, I feel thou art dearer to me
 * Than is my soul's salvation--be it so!
 * A subject was I born; it seemed ordained
 * That I should die a subject in obscurity.
 * Yet I attained to sovereignty; but how?
 * Ask not. Enough that thou art innocent.
 * In justice now thou'lt reign; and I alone
 * Am answerable for all to God. Dear son,
 * Cherish no false delusion, of thy free will
 * Blind not thyself. Stormy the days wherein
 * Thou dost assume the crown. He is dangerous,
 * This strange pretender; with a fearful name
 * He is armed. For many a year experienced
 * In rule, I could restrain revolt and treason;
 * They quaked with fear before me; treachery
 * Dared not to raise its voice; but thou, a boy,
 * An inexperienced ruler, how wilt thou
 * Govern amid the tempests, quench revolt,
 * Shackle sedition? But God is great! He gives
 * Wisdom to youth, to weakness strength.--Give ear;
 * Firstly, select a steadfast counsellor,
 * Of cool, ripe years, loved of the people, honoured
 * Mid the boyars for birth and fame--even Shuisky.
 * The army craves today a skilful leader;
 * Basmanov send, and firmly bear the murmurs
 * Of the boyars. Thou from thy early years
 * Didst sit with me in council, thou dost know
 * The formal course of government; change not
 * Procedure. Custom is the soul of states.
 * Of late I have been forced to reinstate
 * Bans, executions--these thou canst rescind;
 * And they will bless thee, as they blessed thy uncle
 * When he obtained the throne of the Terrible.
 * At the same time, little by little, tighten
 * Anew the reins of government; now slacken;
 * But let them not slip from thy hands. Be gracious,
 * Accessible to foreigners, accept
 * Their service trustfully. Preserve with strictness
 * The Church's discipline. Be taciturn;
 * The royal voice must never lose itself
 * Upon the air in emptiness, but like
 * A sacred bell must sound but to announce
 * Some great disaster or great festival.
 * Dear son, thou art approaching to those years
 * When woman's beauty agitates our blood.
 * Preserve, preserve the sacred purity
 * Of innocence and proud shamefacedness;
 * He, who through passion has been wont to wallow
 * In vicious pleasures in his youthful days,
 * Becomes in manhood bloodthirsty and surly;
 * His mind untimely darkens. Of thy household
 * Be always head; show honour to thy mother,
 * But rule thy house thyself; thou art a man
 * And tsar to boot. Be loving to thy sister--
 * Thou wilt be left of her the sole protector.
 * FEODOR. (On his knees.) No, no; live on, my father, and reign long;
 * Without thee both the folk and we will perish.
 * TSAR. All is at end for me--mine eyes grow dark,
 * I feel the coldness of the grave--
 * (Enter the PATRIARCH and prelates; behind them all
 * the boyars lead the TSARITSA by the hand; the
 * TSAREVNA is sobbing.)
 * Who's there?
 * Ah, 'tis the vestment--so! The holy tonsure--
 * The hour has struck. The tsar becomes a monk,
 * And the dark sepulchre will be my cell.
 * Wait yet a little, my lord Patriarch,
 * I still am tsar. Listen to me, boyars:
 * To this my son I now commit the tsardom;
 * Do homage to Feodor. Basmanov, thou,
 * And ye, my friends, on the grave's brink I pray you
 * To serve my son with zeal and rectitude!
 * As yet he is both young and uncorrupted.
 * Swear ye?
 * BOYARS. We swear.
 * TSAR.          I am content. Forgive me
 * Both my temptations and my sins, my wilful
 * And secret injuries.--Now, holy father,
 * Approach thou; I am ready for the rite.
 * (The rite of the tonsure begins. The women are
 * carried out swooning.)
 * TSAR. All is at end for me--mine eyes grow dark,
 * I feel the coldness of the grave--
 * (Enter the PATRIARCH and prelates; behind them all
 * the boyars lead the TSARITSA by the hand; the
 * TSAREVNA is sobbing.)
 * Who's there?
 * Ah, 'tis the vestment--so! The holy tonsure--
 * The hour has struck. The tsar becomes a monk,
 * And the dark sepulchre will be my cell.
 * Wait yet a little, my lord Patriarch,
 * I still am tsar. Listen to me, boyars:
 * To this my son I now commit the tsardom;
 * Do homage to Feodor. Basmanov, thou,
 * And ye, my friends, on the grave's brink I pray you
 * To serve my son with zeal and rectitude!
 * As yet he is both young and uncorrupted.
 * Swear ye?
 * BOYARS. We swear.
 * TSAR.          I am content. Forgive me
 * Both my temptations and my sins, my wilful
 * And secret injuries.--Now, holy father,
 * Approach thou; I am ready for the rite.
 * (The rite of the tonsure begins. The women are
 * carried out swooning.)
 * Both my temptations and my sins, my wilful
 * And secret injuries.--Now, holy father,
 * Approach thou; I am ready for the rite.
 * (The rite of the tonsure begins. The women are
 * carried out swooning.)
 * carried out swooning.)

A TENT

 * BASMANOV leads in PUSHKIN
 * BASMANOV. Here enter, and speak freely. So to me
 * He sent thee.
 * PUSHKIN.   He doth offer thee his friendship
 * And the next place to his in the realm of Moscow.
 * BASMANOV. But even thus highly by Feodor am I
 * Already raised; the army I command;
 * For me he scorned nobility of rank
 * And the wrath of the boyars. I have sworn to him
 * Allegiance.
 * PUSHKIN. To the throne's lawful successor
 * Allegiance thou hast sworn; but what if one
 * More lawful still be living?
 * BASMANOV.                 Listen, Pushkin:
 * Enough of that; tell me no idle tales!
 * I know the man.
 * PUSHKIN.     Russia and Lithuania
 * Have long acknowledged him to be Dimitry;
 * But, for the rest, I do not vouch for it.
 * Perchance he is indeed the real Dimitry;
 * Perchance but a pretender; only this
 * I know, that soon or late the son of Boris
 * Will yield Moscow to him.
 * BASMANOV.              So long as I
 * Stand by the youthful tsar, so long he will not
 * Forsake the throne. We have enough of troops,
 * Thank God! With victory I will inspire them.
 * And whom will you against me send, the Cossack
 * Karel or Mnishek? Are your numbers many?
 * In all, eight thousand.
 * PUSHKIN.             You mistake; they will not
 * Amount even to that. I say myself
 * Our army is mere trash, the Cossacks only
 * Rob villages, the Poles but brag and drink;
 * The Russians--what shall I say?--with you I'll not
 * Dissemble; but, Basmanov, dost thou know
 * Wherein our strength lies? Not in the army, no.
 * Nor Polish aid, but in opinion--yes,
 * In popular opinion. Dost remember
 * The triumph of Dimitry, dost remember
 * His peaceful conquests, when, without a blow
 * The docile towns surrendered, and the mob
 * Bound the recalcitrant leaders? Thou thyself
 * Saw'st it; was it of their free-will our troops
 * Fought with him? And when did they so? Boris
 * Was then supreme. But would they now?--Nay, nay,
 * It is too late to blow on the cold embers
 * Of this dispute; with all thy wits and firmness
 * Thou'lt not withstand him. Were't not better for thee
 * To furnish to our chief a wise example,
 * Proclaim Dimitry tsar, and by that act
 * Bind him your friend for ever? How thinkest thou?
 * BASMANOV. Tomorrow thou shalt know.
 * PUSHKIN.                         Resolve.
 * BASMANOV.                               Farewell.
 * PUSHKIN. Ponder it well, Basmanov.
 * (Exit.)
 * BASMANOV.                       He is right.
 * Everywhere treason ripens; what shall I do?
 * Wait, that the rebels may deliver me
 * In bonds to the Otrepiev? Had I not better
 * Forestall the stormy onset of the flood,
 * Myself to--ah! But to forswear mine oath!
 * Dishonour to deserve from age to age!
 * The trust of my young sovereign to requite
 * With horrible betrayal! 'Tis a light thing
 * For a disgraced exile to meditate
 * Sedition and conspiracy; but I?
 * Is it for me, the favourite of my lord?--
 * But death--but power--the people's miseries...
 * (He ponders.)
 * Here! Who is there? (Whistles.) A horse here!
 * Sound the muster!
 * Everywhere treason ripens; what shall I do?
 * Wait, that the rebels may deliver me
 * In bonds to the Otrepiev? Had I not better
 * Forestall the stormy onset of the flood,
 * Myself to--ah! But to forswear mine oath!
 * Dishonour to deserve from age to age!
 * The trust of my young sovereign to requite
 * With horrible betrayal! 'Tis a light thing
 * For a disgraced exile to meditate
 * Sedition and conspiracy; but I?
 * Is it for me, the favourite of my lord?--
 * But death--but power--the people's miseries...
 * (He ponders.)
 * Here! Who is there? (Whistles.) A horse here!
 * Sound the muster!
 * Here! Who is there? (Whistles.) A horse here!
 * Sound the muster!

PUBLIC SQUARE IN MOSCOW

 * PUSHKIN enters, surrounded by the people
 * THE PEOPLE. The tsarevich a boyar hath sent to us.
 * Let's hear what the boyar will tell us. Hither!
 * Hither!
 * PUSHKIN. (On a platform.) Townsmen of Moscow! The tsarevich
 * Bids me convey his greetings to you. (He bows.) Ye know
 * How Divine Providence saved the tsarevich
 * From out the murderer's hands; he went to punish
 * His murderer, but God's judgment hath already
 * Struck down Boris. All Russia hath submitted
 * Unto Dimitry; with heartfelt repentance
 * Basmanov hath himself led forth his troops
 * To swear allegiance to him. In love, in peace
 * Dimitry comes to you. Would ye, to please
 * The house of Godunov, uplift a hand
 * Against the lawful tsar, against the grandson
 * Of Monomakh?
 * THE PEOPLE. Not we.
 * PUSHKIN.         Townsmen of Moscow!
 * The world well knows how much ye have endured
 * Under the rule of the cruel stranger; ban,
 * Dishonour, executions, taxes, hardships,
 * Hunger--all these ye have experienced.
 * Dimitry is disposed to show you favour,
 * Courtiers, boyars, state-servants, soldiers, strangers,
 * Merchants--and every honest man. Will ye
 * Be stubborn without reason, and in pride
 * Flee from his kindness? But he himself is coming
 * To his ancestral throne with dreadful escort.
 * Provoke not ye the tsar to wrath, fear God,
 * And swear allegiance to the lawful ruler;
 * Humble yourselves; forthwith send to Dimitry
 * The Metropolitan, deacons, boyars,
 * And chosen men, that they may homage do
 * To their lord and father.
 * (Exit. Clamour of the People.)
 * THE PEOPLE.            What is to be said?
 * The boyar spake truth. Long live Dimitry, our father!
 * A PEASANT ON THE PLATFORM. People! To the Kremlin!
 * To the Royal palace!
 * The whelp of Boris go bind!
 * THE PEOPLE. (Rushing in a crowd.)
 * Bind, drown him! Hail
 * Dimitry! Perish the race of Godunov!
 * The boyar spake truth. Long live Dimitry, our father!
 * A PEASANT ON THE PLATFORM. People! To the Kremlin!
 * To the Royal palace!
 * The whelp of Boris go bind!
 * THE PEOPLE. (Rushing in a crowd.)
 * Bind, drown him! Hail
 * Dimitry! Perish the race of Godunov!
 * Bind, drown him! Hail
 * Dimitry! Perish the race of Godunov!

THE KREMLIN. HOUSE OF BORIS

 * A GUARD on the Staircase. FEODOR at a Window
 * BEGGAR. Give alms, for Christ's sake.
 * GUARD. Go away; it is forbidden to speak to the prisoners.
 * FEODOR. Go, old man, I am poorer than thou; thou art at
 * liberty.
 * (KSENIA, veiled, also comes to the window.)
 * ONE OF THE PEOPLE. Brother and sister--poor children, like
 * birds in a cage.
 * SECOND PERSON. Are you going to pity them? Accursed
 * Family!
 * FIRST PERSON. The father was a villain, but the children are
 * innocent.
 * SECOND PERSON. The apple does not fall far from the
 * apple-tree.
 * KSENIA. Dear brother! Dear brother! I think the boyars
 * are coming to us.
 * FEODOR. That is Golitsin, Mosalsky. I do not know the
 * others.
 * KSENIA. Ah! Dear brother. my heart sinks.
 * (GOLITSIN, MOSALSKY, MOLCHANOV, and SHEREFEDINOV;
 * behind them three archers.)
 * THE PEOPLE. Make way, make way; the boyars come.
 * (They enter the house.)
 * ONE OF THE PEOPLE. What have they come for?
 * SECOND. Most like to make Feodor Godunov take the oath.
 * THIRD. Very like. Hark! What a noise in the house!
 * What an uproar! They are fighting!
 * THE PEOPLE. Do you hear? A scream! That was a
 * woman's voice. We will go up. We will go up!--The
 * doors are fastened--the cries cease--the noise continues.
 * (The doors are thrown open. MOSALSKY appears on
 * the staircase.)
 * MOSALSKY. People! Maria Godunov and her son Feodor
 * have poisoned themselves. We have seen their dead
 * bodies.
 * (The People are silent with horror.)
 * Why are ye silent? Cry, Long live the tsar Dimitry
 * Ivanovich!
 * (The People are speechless.)
 * THE END
 * SECOND. Most like to make Feodor Godunov take the oath.
 * THIRD. Very like. Hark! What a noise in the house!
 * What an uproar! They are fighting!
 * THE PEOPLE. Do you hear? A scream! That was a
 * woman's voice. We will go up. We will go up!--The
 * doors are fastened--the cries cease--the noise continues.
 * (The doors are thrown open. MOSALSKY appears on
 * the staircase.)
 * MOSALSKY. People! Maria Godunov and her son Feodor
 * have poisoned themselves. We have seen their dead
 * bodies.
 * (The People are silent with horror.)
 * Why are ye silent? Cry, Long live the tsar Dimitry
 * Ivanovich!
 * (The People are speechless.)
 * THE END
 * (The People are silent with horror.)
 * Why are ye silent? Cry, Long live the tsar Dimitry
 * Ivanovich!
 * (The People are speechless.)
 * THE END
 * (The People are speechless.)
 * THE END
 * THE END
 * THE END
 * THE END
 * THE END

Boris Godunov (drama) Борис Годунов (Пушкин)