It's not our business.
PEASANT WOMAN. (With child.)
Now, what's this? Just when
It ought to cry, the child stops crying. I'll show you!
Here comes the bogie-man! Cry, cry, you spoilt one!
(Throws it on the ground; the child screams.)
That's right, that's right!
1ST PERSON. As everyone is crying,
We also, brother, will begin to cry.
2ND PERSON. Brother, I try my best, but can't.
1ST PERSON. Nor I.
Have you not got an onion?
2ND PERSON. No; I'll wet
My eyes with spittle. What's up there now?
1ST PERSON. Who knows
What's going on?
THE PEOPLE. The crown for him! He is tsar!
He has yielded!--Boris!--Our tsar!--Long live Boris!
THE PALACE OF THE KREMLIN
BORIS, PATRIARCH, Boyars
BORIS. Thou, father Patriarch, all ye boyars!
My soul lies bare before you; ye have seen
With what humility and fear I took
This mighty power upon me. Ah! How heavy
My weight of obligation! I succeed
The great Ivans; succeed the angel tsar!--
O Righteous Father, King Of kings, look down
From Heaven upon the tears of Thy true servants,
And send on him whom Thou hast loved, whom Thou
Exalted hast on earth so wondrously,
Thy holy blessing.
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