I asked the childish voice. `I am the tsarevich
Dimitry, whom the Heavenly Tsar hath taken
Into His angel band, and I am now
A mighty wonder-worker.  Go, old man.’ 
I woke, and pondered.  What is this?  Maybe
God will in very deed vouchsafe to me
Belated healing.  I will go.  I bent
My footsteps to the distant road.  I reached
Uglich, repair unto the holy minster,
Hear mass, and, glowing with zealous soul, I weep
Sweetly, as if the blindness from mine eyes
Were flowing out in tears.  And when the people
Began to leave, to my grandson I said: 
`Lead me, Ivan, to the grave of the tsarevich
Dimitry .’  The boy led me—­and I scarce
Had shaped before the grave a silent prayer,
When sight illumed my eyeballs; I beheld
The light of God, my grandson, and the tomb.” 
That is the tale, Sire, which the old man told.

(General agitation.  In the course of this speech Boris several times wipes his face with his handkerchief.)

To Uglich then I sent, where it was learned
That many sufferers had found likewise
Deliverance at the grave of the tsarevich. 
This is my counsel; to the Kremlin send
The sacred relics, place them in the Cathedral
Of the Archangel; clearly will the people
See then the godless villain’s fraud; the might
Of the fiends will vanish as a cloud of dust.

(Silence.)

Prince Shuisky.  What mortal, holy father, knoweth the ways
Of the All-Highest?  ’Tis not for me to judge Him. 
Untainted sleep and power of wonder-working
He may upon the child’s remains bestow;
But vulgar rumour must dispassionately
And diligently be tested; is it for us,
In stormy times of insurrection,
To weigh so great a matter?  Will men not say
That insolently we made of sacred things
A worldly instrument?  Even now the people
Sway senselessly this way and that, even now
There are enough already of loud rumours;
This is no time to vex the people’s minds
With aught so unexpected, grave, and strange. 
I myself see ’tis needful to demolish
The rumour spread abroad by the unfrocked monk;
But for this end other and simpler means
Will serve.  Therefore, when it shall please thee, Sire,
I will myself appear in public places,
I will persuade, exhort away this madness,
And will expose the vagabond’s vile fraud.

Tsar.  So be it!  My lord Patriarch, I pray thee
Go with us to the palace, where today
I must converse with thee.

(Exeunt; all the boyars follow them.)

1St boyar. (Sotto voce to another.) Didst mark how pale Our sovereign turned, how from his face there poured A mighty sweat?

2Nd boyar.  I durst not, I confess, Uplift mine eyes, nor breathe, nor even stir.

1St boyar.  Prince Shuisky has pulled it through.  A splendid fellow!