Thou wilt have
another bridegroom--and handsome and affable.
another bridegroom--and handsome and affable.
Pushkin - Boris Gudonov
.
.
Farewell then, prince.
SHUISKY. Brother, farewell.
Farewell, my brother, till we meet again.
(He escorts PUSHKIN out. )
PALACE OF THE TSAR
The TSAREVICH is drawing a map. The TSAREVNA. The NURSE of the Tsarevna
KSENIA. (Kisses a portrait. ) My dear bridegroom, comely
son of a king, not to me wast thou given, not to thy
affianced bride, but to a dark sepulchre in a strange
land; never shall I take comfort, ever shall I weep for
thee.
NURSE. Eh, tsarevna! A maiden weeps as the dew falls;
the sun will rise, will dry the dew.
Thou wilt have
another bridegroom--and handsome and affable. My
charming child, thou wilt learn to love him, thou wilt
forget Ivan the king's son.
KSENIA. Nay, nurse, I will be true to him even in death.
(Boris enters. )
TSAR. What, Ksenia? What, my sweet one? In thy girlhood
Already a woe-stricken widow, ever
Bewailing thy dead bridegroom! Fate forbade me
To be the author of thy bliss. Perchance
I angered Heaven; it was not mine to compass
Thy happiness. Innocent one, for what
Art thou a sufferer? And thou, my son,
With what art thou employed? What's this?
FEODOR. A chart
Of all the land of Muscovy; our tsardom
From end to end.
SHUISKY. Brother, farewell.
Farewell, my brother, till we meet again.
(He escorts PUSHKIN out. )
PALACE OF THE TSAR
The TSAREVICH is drawing a map. The TSAREVNA. The NURSE of the Tsarevna
KSENIA. (Kisses a portrait. ) My dear bridegroom, comely
son of a king, not to me wast thou given, not to thy
affianced bride, but to a dark sepulchre in a strange
land; never shall I take comfort, ever shall I weep for
thee.
NURSE. Eh, tsarevna! A maiden weeps as the dew falls;
the sun will rise, will dry the dew.
Thou wilt have
another bridegroom--and handsome and affable. My
charming child, thou wilt learn to love him, thou wilt
forget Ivan the king's son.
KSENIA. Nay, nurse, I will be true to him even in death.
(Boris enters. )
TSAR. What, Ksenia? What, my sweet one? In thy girlhood
Already a woe-stricken widow, ever
Bewailing thy dead bridegroom! Fate forbade me
To be the author of thy bliss. Perchance
I angered Heaven; it was not mine to compass
Thy happiness. Innocent one, for what
Art thou a sufferer? And thou, my son,
With what art thou employed? What's this?
FEODOR. A chart
Of all the land of Muscovy; our tsardom
From end to end.
