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,