No More Learning

I go
To welcome them. Basmanov, wait, stay here;
I still have need to speak: a word with thee.

(Exit. )

BASMANOV. High sovereign spirit! God grant he may subdue
The accurst Otrepiev; and much, still much
Of good he'll do for Russia. A great thought
Within his mind has taken birth; it must not
Be suffered to grow cold. What a career
For me when the ancestral horn he breaks
Of the nobility. I have no rivals
In war. I shall stand closest to the throne--
And it may chance--But what is that strange sound?

(Alarum. Boyars and court-attendants run in
disorder, meet each other and whisper. )

ONE. Fetch a physician!

ANOTHER.
Quickly to the Patriarch!

A THIRD. He calls for the tsarevich, the tsarevich!

A FOURTH. A confessor!

BASMANOV. What has happened?

A FIFTH AND SIXTH. The tsar is ill,
The tsar is dying.

BASMANOV. Good God!

A FIFTH. Upon the throne
He sat, and suddenly he fell; blood gushed
From his mouth and ears.

(The TSAR is carried in on a chair. All the Tsar's
household; all the boyars. )

TSAR.