I feel the coldness of the grave -

(Enter the PATRIARCH and prelates; behind them all

the boyars lead the TSARITSA by the hand; the

TSAREVNA is sobbing.)

Who's there?

Ah, 'tis the vestment - so! The holy tonsure -

The hour has struck. The tsar becomes a monk,

And the dark sepulchre will be my cell.

Wait yet a little, my lord Patriarch,

I still am tsar. Listen to me, boyars:

To this my son I now commit the tsardom;

Do homage to Feodor. Basmanov, thou,

And ye, my friends, on the grave's brink I pray you

To serve my son with zeal and rectitude!

As yet he is both young and uncorrupted.

Swear ye?

BOYARS. We swear.

TSAR. I am content. Forgive me

Both my temptations and my sins, my wilful

And secret injuries. - Now, holy father,

Approach thou; I am ready for the rite.

(The rite of the tonsure begins. The women are

carried out swooning.)

A TENT.

BASMANOV leads in PUSHKIN BASMANOV. Here enter, and speak freely. So to me

He sent thee.

PUSHKIN. He doth offer thee his friendship

And the next place to his in the realm of Moscow.

BASMANOV. But even thus highly by Feodor am I

Already raised; the army I command;

For me he scorned nobility of rank

And the wrath of the boyars. I have sworn to him

Allegiance.

PUSHKIN. To the throne's lawful successor

Allegiance thou hast sworn; but what if one