MEISCHEK.
Thy spirit's over-bold. Restrain it, child!
MARINA.
Yes, thou dost yield,—thou'lt take me with thee, then?
MEISCHEK.
Thou rulest me. Must I not do thy will?
MARINA.
My own dear father, when I am Moscow's queen
Kioff, you know, must be our boundary.
Kioff must then be mine, and thou shalt rule it.
MEISCHEK.
Thou dreamest, girl! Already the great Moscow
Is for thy soul too narrow; thou, to grasp
Domains, wilt strip them from thy native land.
MARINA.
Kioff belonged not to our native land;
There the Varegers ruled in days of yore.
I have the ancient chronicles by heart;
'Twas from the Russian empire wrenched by force.
I will restore it to its former crown.
MEISCHEK.
Hush, hush! The Waywode must not hear such talk.
[Trumpet without. They're breaking up.