No More Learning

Can't you be quicker?

ROUZYA. At once. Today your father counts upon you.
'Twas not for naught the young tsarevich saw you;
He could not hide his rapture; wounded he is
Already; so it only needs to deal him
A resolute blow, and instantly, my lady,
He'll be in love with you. 'Tis now a month
Since, quitting Cracow, heedless of the war
And throne of Moscow, he has feasted here,
Your guest, enraging Poles alike and Russians.
Heavens! Shall I ever live to see the day? --
Say, you will not, when to his capital
Dimitry leads the queen of Moscow, say
You'll not forsake me?

MARINA. Dost thou truly think
I shall be queen?

ROUZYA. Who, if not you? Who here
Dares to compare in beauty with my mistress?
The race of Mnishek never yet has yielded
To any.
In intellect you are beyond
All praise. --Happy the suitor whom your glance
Honours with its regard, who wins your heart--
Whoe'er he be, be he our king, the dauphin
Of France, or even this our poor tsarevich
God knows who, God knows whence!

MARINA. The very son
Of the tsar, and so confessed by the whole world.

ROUZYA. And yet last winter he was but a servant
In the house of Vishnevetsky.

MARINA. He was hiding.

ROUZYA. I do not question it: but still do you know
What people say about him? That perhaps
He is a deacon run away from Moscow,
In his own district a notorious rogue.

MARINA. What nonsense!

ROUZYA. O, I do not credit it!
I only say he ought to bless his fate
That you have so preferred him to the others.