Demetrius | Page 7

still dream on,?And think they dropped, to aid him, from the clouds.
ODOWALSKY.?Give thy commands: I live but for thy service.?Think'st thou this Moscovite or his affairs?Concern my thoughts? 'Tis thou, thou and thy glory?For which I will adventure life and all.?For me no fortune blossoms; friendless, landless,?I dare not let my hopes aspire to thee.?Thy grace I may not win, but I'll deserve it.?To make thee great be my one only aim;?Then, though another should possess thee, still?Thou wilt be mine--being what I have made thee.
MARINA.?Therefore my whole heart do I pledge to thee;?To thee I trust the acting of my thoughts.?The king doth mean us false. I read him through.?'Twas a concerted farce with Sapieha,?A juggle, all! 'Twould please him well, belike,?To see my father's power, which he dreads deeply,?Enfeebled in this enterprise--the league?Of the noblesse, which shook his heart with fear,?Drawn off in this campaign on foreign bounds,?While he himself sits neutral in the fray.?He thinks to share our fortune, if we win;?And if we lose, he hopes with greater ease?To fix on us the bondage of his yoke.?We stand alone. This die is cast. If he?Cares for himself, we shall be selfish too.?You lead the troops to Kioff. There let them swear?Allegiance to the prince, and unto me;--?Mark you, to me! 'Tis needful for our ends.?I want your eye, and not your arm alone.
ODOWALSKY.?Command me--speak--
MARINA.
You lead the Czarowitsch.?Keep your eye on him; stir not from his side,?Render me 'count of every step he makes.
ODOWALSKY.?Rely on me, he'll never cast us off.
MARINA.?No man is grateful. Once his throne is sure,?He'll not be slow to cast our bonds aside.?The Russian hates the Pole--must hate him ever;?No bond of amity can link their hearts.
Enter OPALINSKY, BIELSKY, and several Polish noblemen.
OPALINSKY.?Fair patron, get us gold, and we march with you,?This lengthened Diet has consumed our all.?Let us have gold, we'll make thee Russia's queen.
MARINA.?The Bishop of Kaminieck and Culm?Lends money on the pawn of land and serfs.?Sell, barter, pledge the hamlets of your boors,?Turn all to silver, horses, means of war!?War is the best of chapmen. He transmutes?Iron into gold. Whate'er you now may lose?You'll find in Moscow twenty-fold again.
BIELSKY.?Two hundred more wait in the tavern yonder;?If you will show yourself, and drain a cup?With them, they're yours, all yours--I know them well.
MARINA.?Expect me! You shall introduce me to them.
OPALINSKY.?'Tis plain that you were born to be a queen.
MARINA.?I was, and therefore I must be a queen.
BIELSKY.?Ay, mount the snow-white steed, thine armor on,?And so, a second Vanda, lead thy troops,?Inspired by thee, to certain victory.
MARINA.?My spirit leads you. War is not for women.?The rendezvous is in Kioff. Thither my father?Will lead a levy of three thousand horse.?My sister's husband gives two thousand more,?And the Don sends a Cossack host in aid.?Do you all swear you will be true to me?
ALL.?All, all--we swear! (draw their swords.)?Vivat Marina, Russiae Regina!
[MARINA tears her veil in pieces, and divides it among them. Exeunt omnes but MARINA.
Enter MEISCHEK.
MARINA.?Wherefore so sad, when fortune smiles on us,?When every step thrives to our utmost wish,?And all around are arming in our cause?
MEISCHEK.?'Tis even because of this, my child! All, all?Is staked upon the cast. Thy father's means?Are in these warlike preparations swamped.?I have much cause to ponder seriously;?Fortune is false, uncertain the result.?Mad, venturous girl, what hast thou brought me to??What a weak father have I been, that I?Did not withstand thy importunities!?I am the richest Waywode of the empire,?The next in honor to the king. Had we?But been content to be so, and enjoyed?Our stately fortunes with a tranquil soul!?Thy hopes soared higher--not for thee sufficed?The moderate station which thy sisters won.?Thou wouldst attain the loftiest mark that can?By mortals be achieved, and wear a crown.?I, thy fond, foolish father, longed to heap?On thee, my darling one, all glorious gains,?So by thy prayers I let myself be fooled,?And peril my sure fortunes on a chance.
MARINA.?How? My dear father, dost thou rue thy goodness??Who with the meaner prize can live content,?When o'er his head the noblest courts his grasp?
MEISCHEK.?Thy sisters wear no crowns, yet they are happy.
MARINA.?What happiness is that to leave the home?Of the Waywode, my father, for the house?Of some count palatine, a grateful bride??What do I gain of new from such a change??And can I joy in looking to the morrow?When it brings naught but what was stale to-day??Oh, tasteless round of petty, worn pursuits!?Oh, wearisome monotony of life!?Are they a guerdon for high hopes, high aims??Or love or greatness I must have: all else?Are unto me alike indifferent.?Smooth off the trouble from thy brow, dear father!?Let's trust the stream that bears us on its breast,?Think not upon the sacrifice thou makest,?Think on the prize, the goal that's to be won--?When thou shalt see thy daughter robed in state,?In regal state, aloft on Moscow's throne,?And