Olga
Whose voice has the fresh, birdlike song of youth,
The very ring of perfect innocence,
How know I thou'rt not plotting for my death?
Nay, tremble not—I did but speak in jest.
Olga. Czar! if the good thus suffer who but live
To make their people happy, what must be
The torments of the tyrant?
Czar.If I were
The tyrant that they think me, I could scarce
Live lonelier.
Olga. Ah, were death then preferable?
Czar. No, for I live to play my royal part.
Were I a coward, I might choose to die;
But I am chained by honour to my post.
Olga. There have been tyrants, surely, have there not,
Hated by all mankind and damned by God?
In old times, if not now?
Czar.God knows their hearts.
We'll speak not of them. Rather let us speak
Of thee, whose voice so moves me, yet whose face
I see not, thee whose hand I hold in mine,
Yet do not know thy name. Unmask, my child;
Tell thy Czar who thou art.
Olga.Stay. I am one,
Rash Czar, in whom the world believes and trembles.
Czar. Strange words! once more, who art thou?
The very ring of perfect innocence,
How know I thou'rt not plotting for my death?
Nay, tremble not—I did but speak in jest.
Olga. Czar! if the good thus suffer who but live
To make their people happy, what must be
The torments of the tyrant?
Czar.If I were
The tyrant that they think me, I could scarce
Live lonelier.
Olga. Ah, were death then preferable?
Czar. No, for I live to play my royal part.
Were I a coward, I might choose to die;
But I am chained by honour to my post.
Olga. There have been tyrants, surely, have there not,
Hated by all mankind and damned by God?
In old times, if not now?
Czar.God knows their hearts.
We'll speak not of them. Rather let us speak
Of thee, whose voice so moves me, yet whose face
I see not, thee whose hand I hold in mine,
Yet do not know thy name. Unmask, my child;
Tell thy Czar who thou art.
Olga.Stay. I am one,
Rash Czar, in whom the world believes and trembles.
Czar. Strange words! once more, who art thou?
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