The Project Gutenberg eBook ofDemetrius: A PlayThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world 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 atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Demetrius: A PlayAuthor: Friedrich SchillerRelease date: December 8, 2004 [eBook #6790]Most recently updated: December 30, 2020Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEMETRIUS: A PLAY ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world 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 atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Demetrius: A PlayAuthor: Friedrich SchillerRelease date: December 8, 2004 [eBook #6790]Most recently updated: December 30, 2020Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger
Title: Demetrius: A Play
Author: Friedrich Schiller
Author: Friedrich Schiller
Release date: December 8, 2004 [eBook #6790]Most recently updated: December 30, 2020
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEMETRIUS: A PLAY ***
ACT I.SCENE I.ACT II.SCENE I.SCENE II.SCENE III.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
SCENE II.
SCENE III.
THE DIET AT CRACOW.On the rising of the curtain the Polish Diet is discovered, seatedin the great senate hall. On a raised platform, elevated by threesteps, and surmounted by a canopy, is the imperial throne, theescutcheons of Poland and Lithuania suspended on each side. The KINGseated upon the throne; on his right and left hand his ten royalofficers standing on the platform. Below the platform the BISHOPS,PALATINES, and CASTELLANS seated on each side of the stage.Opposite to these stand the Provincial DEPUTIES, in a double line,uncovered. All armed. The ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN, as the primate ofthe kingdom, is seated next the proscenium; his chaplain behind him,bearing a golden cross.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.Thus then hath this tempestuous Diet beenConducted safely to a prosperous close;And king and commons part as cordial friends.The nobles have consented to disarm,And straight disband the dangerous Rocoss1;Whilst our good king his sacred word has pledged,That every just complaint shall have redress.And now that all is peace at home, we mayLook to the things that claim our care abroad.Is it the will of the most high EstatesThat Prince Demetrius, who hath advancedA claim to Russia's crown, as Ivan's son,Should at their bar appear, and in the faceOf this august assembly prove his right?1An insurrectionary muster of the nobles.CASTELLAN OF CRACOW.Honor and justice both demand he should;It were unseemly to refuse his prayer.BISHOP OF WERMELAND.The documents on which he rests have beenExamined, and are found authentic. WeMay give him audience.SEVERAL DEPUTIES.Nay! We must, we must!LEO SAPIEHA.To hear is to admit his right.ODOWALSKY.And notTo hear is to reject his claims unheard.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.Is it your will that he have audience?I ask it for the second time—and third.IMPERIAL CHANCELLOR.Let him stand forth before our throne!SENATORS.And speak!DEPUTIES.Yes, yes! Let him be heard![The Imperial GRAND MARSHAL beckons with his batonto the doorkeeper, who goes out.LEO SAPIEHA (to the CHANCELLOR).Write down, my lord,That here I do protest against this step,And all that may ensue therefrom, to marThe peace of Poland's state and Moscow's crown.[Enters DEMETRIUS. Advances some steps towards the throne,and makes three bows with his head uncovered, first to the KING,next to the SENATORS, and then to the DEPUTIES, who all severallyanswer with an inclination of the head. He then takes up hisposition so as to keep within his eye a great portion of theassemblage, and yet not to turn his back upon the throne.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.Prince Dmitri, son of Ivan! if the pompOf this great Diet scare thee, or a sightSo noble and majestic chain thy tongue,Thou may'st—for this the senate have allowed—Choose thee a proxy, wheresoe'er thou list,And do thy mission by another's lips.DEMETRIUS.My lord archbishop, I stand here to claimA kingdom, and the state of royalty.'Twould ill beseem me should I quake beforeA noble people, and its king and senate.I ne'er have viewed a circle so august,But the sight swells my heart within my breastAnd not appals me. The more worthy ye,To me ye are more welcome; I can ne'erAddress my claim to nobler auditory.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.. . . . The august republicIs favorably bent. . . . .DEMETRIUS.Most puissant king! Most worthy and most potentBishops and palatines, and my good lords,The deputies of the august republic!It gives me pause and wonder to beholdMyself, Czar Ivan's son, now stand beforeThe Polish people in their Diet here.Both realms were sundered by a bloody hate,And, whilst my father lived, no peace might be.Yet now hath Heaven so ordered these events,That I, his blood, who with my nurse's milkImbibed the ancestral hate, appear before youA fugitive, compelled to seek my rightsEven here in Poland's heart. Then, ere I speak,Forget magnanimously all rancors past,And that the Czar, whose son I own myself,Rolled war's red billows to your very homes.I stand before you, sirs, a prince despoiled.I ask protection. The oppressed may urgeA sacred claim on every noble breast.And who in all earth's circuit shall be just,If not a people great and valiant,—oneIn plenitude of power so free, it needsTo render 'count but to itself alone,And may, unchallenged, lend an open earAnd aiding hand to fair humanity.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.You do allege you are Czar Ivan's son;And truly, nor your bearing nor your speechGainsays the lofty title that you urge,But shows us that you are indeed his son.And you shall find that the republic bearsA generous spirit. She has never quailedTo Russia in the field! She loves, alike,To be a noble foe—a cordial friend.DEMETRIUS.Ivan Wasilowitch, the mighty CzarOf Moscow, took five spouses to his bed,In the long years that spared him to the throne.The first, a lady of the heroic lineOf Romanoff, bare him Feodor, who reignedAfter his father's death. One only son,Dmitri, the last blossom of his strength,And a mere infant when his father died,Was born of Marfa, of Nagori's line.Czar Feodor, a youth, alike effeminateIn mind and body, left the reins of powerTo his chief equerry, Boris Godunow,Who ruled his master with most crafty skill.Feodor was childless, and his barren brideDenied all prospect of an heir. Thus, whenThe wily Boiar, by his fawning arts,Had coiled himself into the people's favor,His wishes soared as high as to the throne.Between him and his haughty hopes there stoodA youthful prince, the young DemetriusIwanowitsch, who with his mother livedAt Uglitsch, where her widowhood was passed.Now, when his fatal purpose was matured,He sent to Uglitsch ruffians, charged to putThe Czarowitsch to death.One night, when all was hushed, the castle's wing,Where the young prince, apart from all the rest,With his attendants lay, was found on fire.The raging flames ingulfed the pile; the princeUnseen, unheard, was spirited away,And all the world lamented him as dead.All Moscow knows these things to be the truth.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.Yes, these are facts familiar to us all.The rumor ran abroad, both far and near,That Prince Demetrius perished in the flamesWhen Uglitsch was destroyed. And, as his deathRaised to the throne the Czar who fills it now,Fame did not hesitate to charge on himThis murder foul and pitiless. But yet,His death is not the business now in hand!This prince is living still! He lives in you!So runs your plea. Now bring us to the proofs!Whereby do you attest that you are he?What are the signs by which you shall be known?How 'scaped you those were sent to hunt you downAnd now, when sixteen years are passed, and youWell nigh forgot, emerge to light once more?DEMETRIUS.'Tis scarce a year since I have known myself;I lived a secret to myself till then,Surmising naught of my imperial birth.I was a monk with monks, close pent withinThe cloister's precincts, when I first beganTo waken to a consciousness of self.My impetuous spirit chafed against the bars,And the high blood of princes began to courseIn strange unbidden moods along my veins.At length I flung the monkish cowl aside,And fled to Poland, where the noble PrinceOf Sendomir, the generous, the good,Took me as guest into his princely house,And trained me up to noble deeds of arms.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.How? You still ignorant of what you were?Yet ran the rumor then on every side,That Prince Demetrius was still alive.Czar Boris trembled on his throne, and sentHis sassafs to the frontiers, to keepSharp watch on every traveller that stirred.Had not the tale its origin with you?Did you not give the rumor birth yourself?Had you not named to any that you wereDemetrius?DEMETRIUS.I relate that which I know.If a report went forth I was alive,Then had some god been busy with the fame.Myself I knew not. In the prince's house,And in the throng of his retainers lost,I spent the pleasant springtime of my youth.In silent homageMy heart was vowed to his most lovely daughter.Yet in those days it never dreamed to raiseIts wildest thoughts to happiness so high.My passion gave offence to her betrothed,The Castellan of Lemberg. He with tauntsChafed me, and in the blindness of his rageForgot himself so wholly as to strike me.Thus savagely provoked, I drew my sword;He, blind with fury, rushed upon the blade,And perished there by my unwitting hand.MEISCHEK.Yes, it was even so.DEMETRIUS.Mine was the worst mischance! A nameless youth,A Russian and a stranger, I had slainA grandee of the empire—in the houseOf my kind patron done a deed of blood,And sent to death his son-in-law and friend.My innocence availed not; not the pityOf all his household, nor his kindness—his,The noble Palatine's,—could save my life;For it was forfeit to the law, that is,Though lenient to the Poles, to strangers stern.Judgment was passed on me—that judgment death.I knelt upon the scaffold, by the block;To the fell headsman's sword I bared my throat,And in the act disclosed a cross of gold,Studded with precious gems, which had been hungAbout my neck at the baptismal font.This sacred pledge of Christian redemptionI had, as is the custom of my people,Worn on my neck concealed, where'er I went,From my first hours of infancy; and now,When from sweet life I was compelled to part,I grasped it as my only stay, and pressed itWith passionate devotion to my lips.[The Poles intimate their sympathy by dumb show.The jewel was observed; its sheen and worthAwakened curiosity and wonder.They set me free, and questioned me; yet stillI could not call to memory a timeI had not worn the jewel on my person.Now it so happened that three Boiars whoHad fled from the resentment of their CzarWere on a visit to my lord at Sambor.They saw the trinket,—recognized it byNine emeralds alternately inlaidWith amethysts, to be the very crossWhich Ivan Westislowsky at the fontHung on the neck of the Czar's youngest son.They scrutinized me closer, and were struckTo find me marked with one of nature's freaks,For my right arm is shorter than my left.Now, being closely plied with questions, IBethought me of a little psalter whichI carried from the cloister when I fled.Within this book were certain words in GreekInscribed there by the Igumen himself.What they imported was unknown to me,Being ignorant of the language. Well, the psalterWas sent for, brought, and the inscription read.It bore that Brother Wasili Philaret(Such was my cloister-name), who owned the book,Was Prince Demetrius, Ivan's youngest son,By Andrei, an honest Diak, savedBy stealth in that red night of massacre.Proofs of the fact lay carefully preservedWithin two convents, which were pointed out.On this the Boiars at my feet fell down,Won by the force of these resistless proofs,And hailed me as the offspring of their Czar.So from the yawning gulfs of black despairFate raised me up to fortune's topmost heights.And now the mists cleared off, and all at onceMemories on memories started into lifeIn the remotest background of the past.And like some city's spires that gleam afarIn golden sunshine when naught else is seen,So in my soul two images grew bright,The loftiest sun-peaks in the shadowy past.I saw myself escaping one dark night,And a red lurid flame light up the gloomOf midnight darkness as I looked behind meA memory 'twas of very earliest youth,For what preceded or came after itIn the long distance utterly was lost.In solitary brightness there it stoodA ghastly beacon-light on memory's waste.Yet I remembered how, in later years,One of my comrades called me, in his wrathSon of the Czar. I took it as a jest,And with a blow avenged it at the time.All this now flashed like lightning on my soul,And told with dazzling certainty that IWas the Czar's son, so long reputed dead.With this one word the clouds that had perplexedMy strange and troubled life were cleared away.Nor merely by these signs, for such deceive;But in my soul, in my proud, throbbing heartI felt within me coursed the blood of kings;And sooner will I drain it drop by dropThan bate one jot my title to the crown.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.And shall we trust a scroll which might have foundIts way by merest chance into your handsBacked by the tale of some poor renegades?Forgive me, noble youth! Your tone, I grant,And bearing, are not those of one who lies;Still you in this may be yourself deceived.Well may the heart be pardoned that beguilesItself in playing for so high a stake.What hostage do you tender for your word?DEMETRIUS.I tender fifty, who will give their oaths,—All Piasts to a man, and free-born PolesOf spotless reputation,—each of whomIs ready to enforce what I have urged.There sits the noble Prince of Sendomir,And at his side the Castellan of Lublin;Let them declare if I have spoke the truth.ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN.How seem these things to the august Estates?To the enforcement of such numerous proofsDoubt and mistrust, methinks, must needs give way.Long has a creeping rumor filled the worldThat Dmitri, Ivan's son, is still alive.The Czar himself confirms it by his fears.—Before us stands a youth, in age and mienEven to the very freak that nature played,The lost heir's counterpart, and of a soulWhose noble stamp keeps rank with his high claims.He left a cloister's precincts, urged by strange,Mysterious promptings; and this monk-trained boyWas straight distinguished for his knightly feats.He shows a trinket which the CzarowitschOnce wore, and one that never left his side;A written witness, too, by pious hands,Gives us assurance of his princely birth;And, stronger still, from his unvarnished speechAnd open brow truth makes his best appeal.Such traits as these deceit doth never don;It masks its subtle soul in vaunting words,And in the high-glossed ornaments of speech.No longer, then, can I withhold the titleWhich he with circumstance and justice claimsAnd, in the exercise of my old right,I now, as primate, give him the first voice.ARCHBISHOP OF LEMBERG.My voice goes with the primate's.SEVERAL VOICES.So does mine.SEVERAL PALATINES.And mine!ODOWALSKY.And mine.DEPUTIES.And all!SAPIEHA.My gracious sirs!Weigh well ere you decide! Be not so hasty!It is not meet the council of the realmBe hurried on to——ODOWALSKY.There is nothing hereFor us to weigh; all has been fully weighed.The proofs demonstrate incontestably.This is not Moscow, sirs! No despot hereKeeps our free souls in manacles. Here truthMay walk by day or night with brow erect.I will not think, my lords, in Cracow here,Here in the very Diet of the Poles,That Moscow's Czar should have obsequious slaves.DEMETRIUS.Oh, take my thanks, ye reverend senators!That ye have lent your credence to these proofs;And if I be indeed the man whom IProtest myself, oh, then, endure not thisAudacious robber should usurp my seat,Or longer desecrate that sceptre whichTo me, as the true Czarowitsch, belongs.Yes, justice lies with me,—you have the power.'Tis the most dear concern of every stateAnd throne, that right should everywhere prevail,And all men in the world possess their own.For there, where justice holds uncumbered sway,There each enjoys his heritage secure,And over every house and every throneLaw, truth, and order keep their angel watch.It is the key-stone of the world's wide arch,The one sustaining and sustained by all,Which, if it fail, brings all in ruin down.(Answers of SENATORS giving assent to DEMETRIUS.)DEMETRIUS.Oh, look on me, renowned Sigismund!Great king, on thine own bosom turn thine eyes.And in my destiny behold thine own.Thou, too, hast known the rude assaults of fate;Within a prison camest thou to the world;Thy earliest glances fell on dungeon walls.Thou, too, hadst need of friends to set thee free,And raise thee from a prison to a throne.These didst thou find. That noble kindness thouDidst reap from them, oh, testify to me.And you, ye grave and honored councillors,Most reverend bishops, pillars of the church,Ye palatines and castellans of fame,The moment has arrived, by one high deed,To reconcile two nations long estranged.Yours be the glorious boast, that Poland's powerHath given the Muscovites their Czar, and inThe neighbor who oppressed you as a foeSecure an ever-grateful friend. And you,The deputies of the august republic,Saddle your steeds of fire! Leap to your seats!To you expand high fortune's golden gates;I will divide the foeman's spoil with you.Moscow is rich in plunder; measurelessIn gold and gems, the treasures of the Czar;I can give royal guerdons to my friends,And I will give them, too. When I, as Czar,Set foot within the Kremlin, then, I swear,The poorest of you all, that follows me,Shall robe himself in velvet and in sables;With costly pearls his housings shall he deck,And silver be the metal of least worth,That he shall shoe his horses' hoofs withal.[Great commotion among the DEPUTIES. KORELA, Hetmanof the Cossacks, declares himself ready to put himselfat the head of an army.ODOWALSKY.How! shall we leave the Cossack to despoil usAt once of glory and of booty both?We've made a truce with Tartar and with Turk,And from the Swedish power have naught to fear.Our martial spirit has been wasting longIn slothful peace; our swords are red with rust.Up! and invade the kingdom of the Czar,And win a grateful and true-hearted friend,Whilst we augment our country's might and glory.MANY DEPUTIES.War! War with Moscow!OTHERS.Be it so resolved!On to the votes at once!SAPIEHA (rises).Grand marshal, pleaseTo order silence! I desire to speak.A CROWD OF VOICES.War! War with Moscow!SAPIEHA.Nay, I will be heard.Ho, marshal, do your duty![Great tumult within and outside the hall.GRAND MARSHAL.'Tis, you see,Quite fruitless.SAPIEHA.What? The marshal's self suborned?Is this our Diet, then, no longer free?Throw down your staff, and bid this brawling cease;I charge you, on your office, to obey![The GRAND MARSHAL casts his baton into the centreof the hall; the tumult abates.What whirling thoughts, what mad resolves are these?Stand we not now at peace with Moscow's Czar?Myself, as your imperial envoy, madeA treaty to endure for twenty years;I raised this right hand, that you see, aloftIn solemn pledge, within the Kremlin's walls;And fairly hath the Czar maintained his word.What is sworn faith? what compacts, treaties, whenA solemn Diet tramples on them all?DEMETRIUS.Prince Leo Sapieha! You concludedA bond of peace, you say, with Moscow's Czar?That did you not; for I, I am that Czar.In me is Moscow's majesty; I amThe son of Ivan, and his rightful heir.Would the Poles treat with Russia for a peace,Then must they treat with me! Your compact's null,As being made with one whose's title's null.ODOWALSKY.What reck we of your treaty? So we willedWhen it was made—our wills are changed to-day.SAPIEHA.Is it, then, come to this? If none besideWill stand for justice, then, at least, will I.I'll rend the woof of cunning into shreds,And lay its falsehoods open to the day.Most reverend primate! art thou, canst thou beSo simple-souled, or canst thou so dissemble?Are ye so credulous, my lords? My liege,Art thou so weak? Ye know not—will not know,Ye are the puppets of the wily WaywodeOf Sendomir, who reared this spurious Czar,Whose measureless ambition, while we speak,Clutches in thought the spoils of Moscow's wealth.Is't left for me to tell you that even nowThe league is made and sworn betwixt the twain,—The pledge the Waywode's youngest daughter's hand?And shall our great republic blindly rushInto the perils of an unjust war,To aggrandize the Waywode, and to crownHis daughter as the empress of the Czar?There's not a man he has not bribed and bought.He means to rule the Diet, well I know;I see his faction rampant in this hall,And, as 'twere not enough that he controlledThe Seym Walmy by a majority,He's girt the Diet with three thousand horse,And all Cracow is swarming like a hiveWith his sworn feudal vassals. Even nowThey throng the halls and chambers where we sit,To hold our liberty of speech in awe.Yet stirs no fear in my undaunted heart;And while the blood keeps current in my veins,I will maintain the freedom of my voice!Let those who think like men come stand by meWhilst I have life shall no resolve be passedThat is at war with justice and with reason.'Twas I that ratified the peace with Moscow,And I will hazard life to see it kept.ODOWALSKY.Give him no further hearing! Take the votes![The BISHOP OF CRACOW and WILNA rise, and descendeach to his own side, to collect the votes.MANY.War, war with Moscow!ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN (to SAPIEHA).Noble sir, give way!You see the mass are hostile to your views;Then do not force a profitless division!IMPERIAL HIGH CHANCELLOR (descends from the throne to SAPIEHA).The king entreats you will not press the point,Sir Waywode, to division in the Diet.DOORKEEPER (aside to ODOWALSKY).Keep a bold front, and fearless—summon thoseThat wait without. All Cracow stands by you.IMPERIAL GRAND MARSHAL (to SAPIEHA).Such excellent decrees have passed before;Oh, cease, and for their sake, so fraught with good,Unite your voice with the majority!BISHOP OF CRACOW (has collected the votes on his side).On this right bench are all unanimous.SAPIEHA.And let them to a man! Yet I say no!I urge my veto—I break up the Diet.Stay further progress! Null and void fire allThe resolutions passed——[General commotion; the KING descends from the throne,the barriers are broken down, and there arises a tumultuousuproar. DEPUTIES draw their swords, and threaten SAPIEHAwith them. The BISHOPS interpose, and protect him withtheir stoles.Majority?What is it? The majority is madness;Reason has still ranked only with the few.What cares he for the general weal that's poor?Has the lean beggar choice, or liberty?To the great lords of earth, that hold the purse,He must for bread and raiment sell his voice.'Twere meet that voices should be weighed, not counted.Sooner or later must the state be wrecked,Where numbers sway and ignorance decides.ODOWALSKY.Hark to the traitor!——DEPUTIES.Hew him into shreds!Down with him!ARCHBISHOP OF GNESEN (snatches the crucifix out of his chaplain's handand interposes).Peace, peaceShall native blood be in the Diet shed?Prince Sapieha! be advised![To the BISHOPS.Bring him away,And interpose your bosoms as his shield!Through this side door remove him quietly,Or the wild mob will tear him limb from limb![SAPIEHA, still casting looks of defiance, is forcedaway by the BISHOPS, whilst the ARCHBISHOPS OF GNESENand LEMBERG keep the DEPUTIES at bay. Amidst violenttumult and clashing of arms, the hall is emptied of allbut DEMETRIUS, MEISCHEK, ODOWALSKY, and the Hetman ofthe Cossacks.ODOWALSKY.That point miscarried,—Yet shall you not lack aid because of this:If the republic holds the peace with Moscow,At our own charges we shall push your claims.KORELA.Who ever could have dreamed, that he aloneWould hold his ground against the assembled Diet?MEISCHEK.The king! the king![Enter KING SIGISMUND, attended by the LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR,the GRAND MARSHAL, and several BISHOPS.KING.Let me embrace you, prince!At length the high republic does you justice;My heart has done so long, and many a day.Your fate doth move me deeply, as, indeed,What monarch's heart but must be moved by it?DEMETRIUS.The past, with all its sorrows, is forgot;Here on your breast I feel new life begin.KING.I love not many words; yet what a kingMay offer, who has vassals richer farThan his poor self, that do I offer you.You have been witness of an untoward scene,But deem not ill of Poland's realm becauseA tempest jars the vessel of the state.MEISCHEK.When winds are wild the steersman backs his helm,And makes for port with all the speed he may.KING.The Diet is dissolved. Although I wished,I could not break the treaty with the Czar.But you have powerful friends; and if the Pole,At his own risk, take arms on your behalf,Or if the Cossack choose to venture war,They are free men, I cannot say them nay.MEISCHEK.The whole Rocoss is under arms already.Please it but you, my liege, the angry streamThat raved against your sovereignty may turnIts wrath on Moscow, leaving you unscathed.KING.The best of weapons Russia's self will give thee;Thy surest buckler is the people's heart.By Russia only Russia will be vanquished.Even as the Diet heard thee speak to-day,Speak thou at Moscow to thy subjects, prince.So chain their hearts, and thou wilt be their king.In Sweden I by right of birth ascendedThe throne of my inheritance in peace;Yet did I lose the kingdom of my siresBecause my people's hearts were not with me.Enter MARINA.MEISCHEK.My gracious liege, here, kneeling at your feet,Behold Marina, youngest of my daughters;The prince of Moscow offers her his heart.Thou art the stay and pillar of our house,And only from thy royal hand 'tis meetThat she receive her spouse and sovereign.[MARINA kneels to the KING.KING.Well, if you wish it, cousin, gladly IWill do the father's office to the Czar.[To DEMETRIUS, giving him MARINA'S hand.Thus do I bring you, in this lovely pledge,High fortune's blooming goddess; and may theseOld eyes be spared to see this gracious pairSit in imperial state on Moscow's throne.MARINA.My liege, I humbly thank your grace, and shallEsteem me still your slave where'er I be.KING.Rise up, Czaritza! This is not a placeFor you, the plighted bridesmaid of the Czar;For you, the daughter of my foremost Waywode.You are the youngest of your sisters; yetYour spirit wings a high and glorious course,And nobly grasps the top of sovereignty.DEMETRIUS.Be thou, great monarch, witness of my oath,As, prince to prince, I pledge it here to you!This noble lady's hand I do acceptAs fortune's dearest pledge, and swear that, soonAs on my father's throne I take my seat,I'll lead her home in triumph as my bride,With all the state that fits a mighty queen.And, for a dowry, to my bride I giveThe principalities Pleskow and Great Neugart,With all towns, hamlets, and in-dwellers there,With all the rights and powers of sovereignty,In absolute possession evermore;And this, my gift, will I as Czar confirmIn my free city, Moscow. Furthermore,As compensation to her noble sireFor present charges, I engage to payA million ducats, Polish currency.So help me God, and all his saints, as IHave truly sworn this oath, and shall fulfil it.KING.You will do so; you never will forgetFor what you are the noble Waywode's debtor;Who, for your wishes, perils his sure wealth,And, for your hopes, a child his heart adores,A friend so rare is to be rarely prized!Then when your hopes are crowned forget not everThe steps by which you mounted to the throne,Nor with your garments let your heart be changed!Think, that in Poland first you knew yourself,That this land gave you birth a second time.DEMETRIUS.I have been nurtured in adversity;And learned to reverence the beauteous bondWhich links mankind with sympathies of love.KING.But now you enter on a realm where all—Use, custom, morals—are untried and strange,In Poland here reigns freedom absolute;The king himself, although in pomp supreme,Must ofttime be the serf of his noblesse;But there the father's sacred power prevails,And in the subject finds a passive slave.DEMETRIUS.That glorious freedom which surrounds me hereI will transplant into my native land,And turn these bond-serfs into glad-souled men;Not o'er the souls of slaves will I bear rule.KING.Do naught in haste; but by the time be led!Prince, ere we part, three lessons take from me,And truly follow them when thou art king.It is a king that gives them, old and tried,And they may prove of profit to thy youth.DEMETRIUS.Oh, share thy wisdom with me! Thou hast wonThe reverence of a free and mighty people;What must I do to earn so fair a prize?KING.You come from a strange land,Borne on the weapons of a foreign foe;This first felt wrong thou hast to wash away.Then bear thee like a genuine son of Moscow,With reverence due to all her usages.Keep promise with the Poles, and value them,For thou hast need of friends on thy new throne:The arm that placed thee there can hurl thee down.Esteem them honorably, yet ape them not;Strange customs thrive not in a foreign soil.And, whatsoe'er thou dost, revere thy mother—You'll find a mother——DEMETRIUS.Oh, my liege!KING.High claimHath she upon thy filial reverence.Do her all honor. 'Twixt thy subjects andThyself she stands, a sacred, precious link.No human law o'errides the imperial power;Nothing but nature may command its awe;Nor can thy people own a surer pledge,That thou art gentle, than thy filial love.I say no more. Much yet is to be done,Ere thou mak'st booty of the golden fleece.Expect no easy victory!Czar Boris rules with strong and skilful hand;You take the field against no common man.He that by merit hath achieved the throne,Is not puffed from his seat by popular breath;His deeds do serve to him for ancestors.To your good fortune I commend you now;Already twice, as by a miracle,Hath it redeemed you from the grasp of death;'Twill put the finish on its work, and crown you.[Exeunt omnes but MARINA and ODOWALSKY.ODOWALSKY.Say, lady, how have I fulfilled my charge?Truly and well, and wilt thou laud my zeal?MARINA.'Tis, Odowalsky, well we are alone;Matters of weight have we to canvass which'Tis meet the prince know nothing of. May hePursue the voice divine that goads him on!If in himself he have belief, the worldWill catch the flame, and give him credence too.He must be kept in that vague, shadowing mist,Which is a fruitful mother of great deeds,While we see clear, and act in certainty.He lends the name—the inspiration; weMust bear the brain, the shaping thought, for him;And when, by art and craft, we have insuredThe needful levies, let him 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 affairsConcern my thoughts? 'Tis thou, thou and thy gloryFor 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, stillThou 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 leagueOf 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 easeTo fix on us the bondage of his yoke.We stand alone. This die is cast. If heCares for himself, we shall be selfish too.You lead the troops to Kioff. There let them swearAllegiance 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 CulmLends 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 transmutesIron into gold. Whate'er you now may loseYou'll find in Moscow twenty-fold again.BIELSKY.Two hundred more wait in the tavern yonder;If you will show yourself, and drain a cupWith 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 fatherWill 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, allIs staked upon the cast. Thy father's meansAre 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 IDid not withstand thy importunities!I am the richest Waywode of the empire,The next in honor to the king. Had weBut been content to be so, and enjoyedOur stately fortunes with a tranquil soul!Thy hopes soared higher—not for thee sufficedThe moderate station which thy sisters won.Thou wouldst attain the loftiest mark that canBy mortals be achieved, and wear a crown.I, thy fond, foolish father, longed to heapOn 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 homeOf the Waywode, my father, for the houseOf some count palatine, a grateful bride?What do I gain of new from such a change?And can I joy in looking to the morrowWhen 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 elseAre 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 thy son's sons the rulers of the world!MEISCHEK.I think of naught, see naught, but thee, my child,Girt with the splendors of the imperial crown.Thou'rt bent to have it; I cannot gainsay thee.MARINA.Yet one request, my dearest, best of fathers,I pray you grant me!MEISCHEK.Name thy wish, my child.MARINA.Shall I remain shut up at Sambor withThe fires of boundless longing in my breast?Beyond the Dnieper will my die be cast,While boundless space divides me from the spot;Can I endure it? Oh, the impatient spiritWill lie upon the rack of expectationAnd measure out this monstrous length of spaceWith groans and anxious throbbings of the heart.MEISCHEK.What dost thou wish? What is it thou wouldst have?MARINA.Let me abide the issue in Kioff!There I can gather tidings at their source.There on the frontier of both kingdoms——MEISCHEK.Thy spirit's over-bold. Restrain it, child!MARINA.Yes, thou dost yield,—thou'lt take me with thee, then?MEISCHEK.Thou rulest me. Must I not do thy will?MARINA.My own dear father, when I am Moscow's queenKioff, you know, must be our boundary.Kioff must then be mine, and thou shalt rule it.MEISCHEK.Thou dreamest, girl! Already the great MoscowIs for thy soul too narrow; thou, to graspDomains, wilt strip them from thy native land.MARINA.Kioff belonged not to our native land;There the Varegers ruled in days of yore.I have the ancient chronicles by heart;'Twas from the Russian empire wrenched by force.I will restore it to its former crown.MEISCHEK.Hush, hush! The Waywode must not hear such talk.[Trumpet without. They're breaking up.