Boris Godunov

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.