Boris Godunov | Page 2

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