No More Learning

My liege, from Lithuania there have come
Tidings to us--

TSAR. Are they not those same tidings
Which yestereve a courier bore to Pushkin?

SHUISKY. Nothing is hidden from him! --Sire, I thought
Thou knew'st not yet this secret.

TSAR. Let not that
Trouble thee, prince; I fain would scrutinise
Thy information; else we shall not learn
The actual truth.

SHUISKY. I know this only, Sire;
In Cracow a pretender hath appeared;
The king and nobles back him.

TSAR. What say they?
And who is this pretender?

SHUISKY. I know not.

TSAR.
But wherein is he dangerous?

SHUISKY. Verily
Thy state, my liege, is firm; by graciousness,
Zeal, bounty, thou hast won the filial love
Of all thy slaves; but thou thyself dost know
The mob is thoughtless, changeable, rebellious,
Credulous, lightly given to vain hope,
Obedient to each momentary impulse,
To truth deaf and indifferent; it feedeth
On fables; shameless boldness pleaseth it.
So, if this unknown vagabond should cross
The Lithuanian border, Dimitry's name
Raised from the grave will gain him a whole crowd
Of fools.

TSAR. Dimitry's? --What? --That child's? --Dimitry's?
Withdraw, tsarevich.

SHUISKY. He flushed; there'll be a storm!

FEODOR. Suffer me, Sire--

TSAR. Impossible, my son;
Go, go!

(Exit FEODOR.