The Project Gutenberg EBook of Boris Godunov, by Alexander Pushkin

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org


Title: Boris Godunov
      A Drama in Verse

Author: Alexander Pushkin

Translator: Alfred Hayes

Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5089]
Last Updated: August 10, 2012

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORIS GODUNOV ***




Produced by Stephen D. Leary








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; farewell, 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'd 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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BORIS GODUNOV ***

***** This file should be named 5089.txt or 5089.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
       http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/8/5089/

Produced by Stephen D. Leary

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at
 www.gutenberg.org/license.


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
    the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
    you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
    owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
    has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
    Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
    must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
    prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
    returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
    sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
    address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
    the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
    you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
    does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
    License.  You must require such a user to return or
    destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
    and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
    Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
    money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
    electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
    of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
    distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at 809
North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887.  Email
contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the
Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

For additional contact information:
    Dr. Gregory B. Newby
    Chief Executive and Director
    [email protected]

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit:  www.gutenberg.org/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For forty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

    www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

You are viewing proxied material from 1436.ninja. The copyright of proxied material belongs to its original authors. Any comments or complaints in relation to proxied material should be directed to the original authors of the content concerned. Please see the disclaimer for more details.