No More Learning

However, it is no use even to report to the
tsar about this; why disquiet our father sovereign?
It will be enough to give information about his flight to
the Secretary Smirnov or the Secretary Ephimiev.
What a heresy: "I shall be tsar in Moscow! ". . .
Catch, catch the fawning villain, and send him to
Solovetsky to perpetual penance. But this--is it not
heresy, Father Abbot?

ABBOT. Heresy, holy Patriarch; downright heresy.




PALACE OF THE TSAR

Two Attendants

1ST ATTENDANT. Where is the sovereign?

2ND ATTENDANT. In his bed-chamber,
Where he is closeted with some magician.

1ST ATTENDANT.
Ay; that's the kind of intercourse he loves;
Sorcerers, fortune-tellers, necromancers.
Ever he seeks to dip into the future,
Just like some pretty girl. Fain would I know
What 'tis he would foretell.

2ND ATTENDANT. Well, here he comes.
Will it please you question him?

1ST ATTENDANT. How grim he looks!

(Exeunt. )

TSAR. (Enters. ) I have attained the highest power. Six years
Already have I reigned in peace; but joy
Dwells not within my soul. Even so in youth
We greedily desire the joys of love,
But only quell the hunger of the heart
With momentary possession. We grow cold,
Grow weary and oppressed! In vain the wizards
Promise me length of days, days of dominion
Immune from treachery--not power, not life
Gladden me; I forebode the wrath of Heaven
And woe.