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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Boris Godunov, by Alexander Pushkin
+#2 in our series by Alexander Pushkin
+
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
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+Title: Boris Godunov
+       A Drama in Verse
+
+Author: Alexander Pushkin
+        Rendered into English verse by Alfred Hayes
+
+Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5089]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on April 24, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORIS GODUNOV ***
+
+
+
+
+This etext was produced by Stephen D. Leary mesmerini@yahoo.com
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BORIS GODUNOV
+
+A Drama in Verse
+
+By ALEXANDER PUSHKIN
+
+Rendered into English verse by Alfred Hayes
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+*The list of Dramatis Personae which does not appear in the
+original has been added for the convenience of the reader--A.H.
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+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.)
+
+
+
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT
+
+Cell in the Monastery of Chudov (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.
+
+
+
+
+FENCE OF THE MONASTERY*
+
+*This scene was omitted by Pushkin from the published version of
+the play.
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+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.)
+
+
+
+
+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.)
+
+
+
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+CASTLE OF THE GOVERNOR
+
+MNISHEK 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.
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT
+
+THE GARDEN. THE 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.
+
+
+
+
+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.)
+
+
+
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+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.)
+
+
+
+
+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.
+
+
+
+
+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.)
+
+
+
+
+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!
+
+
+
+
+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 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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Boris Godunov, by Alexander Pushkin
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORIS GODUNOV ***
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