TSAR. He is vanquished, but what profit lies in that? We are crowned with a vain conquest; he has mustered Again his scattered forces, and anew Threatens us from the ramparts of Putivl. Meanwhile what are our heroes doing? They stand At Krom, where from its rotten battlements A band of Cossacks braves them. There is glory! No, I am ill content with them; thyself I shall despatch to take command of them; I give authority not to birth, but brains. Their pride of precedence, let it be wounded! The time has come for me to hold in scorn The murmur of distinguished nobodies, And quash pernicious custom. BASMANOV. Ay, my lord Blessed a hundredfold will be that day When fire consumes the lists of noblemen With their dissensions, their ancestral pride. TSAR. That day is not far off; let me but first Subdue the insurrection of the people. BASMANOV. Why trouble about that? The people always Are prone to secret treason; even so The swift steed champs the bit; so doth a lad Chafe at his father's ruling. But what then? The rider quietly controls the steed, The father sways the son. TSAR. Sometimes the horse Doth throw the rider, nor is the son at all times Quite 'neath the father's will; we can restrain The people only by unsleeping sternness. So thought Ivan, sagacious autocrat And storm-subduer; so his fierce grandson thought. No, no, kindness is lost upon the people; Act well--it thanks you not at all; extort And execute--'twill be no worse for you. (Enter a boyar.) What now? BOYAR. The foreign guests are come. TSAR. 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.)