No More Learning

It is just
Sheer misery; so silence is the best.

PRETENDER. An enviable life for the tsar's people!
Well, how about the army?

PRISONER. What of them?
Clothed and full-fed they are content with all.

PRETENDER. But is there much of it?

PRISONER. God knows.

PRETENDER. All told
Will there be thirty thousand?

PRISONER. Yes; 'twill run
Even to fifty thousand.
(The Pretender reflects; those around him glance at
one another. )

PRETENDER. Well! Of me
What say they in your camp?

PRISONER. Your graciousness
They speak of; say that thou, Sire, (be not wrath),
Art a thief, but a fine fellow.

PRETENDER. (Laughing. ) Even so
I'll prove myself to them in deed. My friends,
We will not wait for Shuisky; I wish you joy;
Tomorrow, battle.

(Exit. )

ALL. Long life to Dimitry!

A POLE. Tomorrow, battle! They are fifty thousand,
And we scarce fifteen thousand.