No More Learning

) My dear bridegroom, comely
son of a king, not to me wast thou given, not to thy
affianced bride, but to a dark sepulchre in a strange
land; never shall I take comfort, ever shall I weep for
thee.

NURSE. Eh, tsarevna! A maiden weeps as the dew falls;
the sun will rise, will dry the dew. Thou wilt have
another bridegroom--and handsome and affable. My
charming child, thou wilt learn to love him, thou wilt
forget Ivan the king's son.

KSENIA. Nay, nurse, I will be true to him even in death.

(Boris enters. )

TSAR. What, Ksenia? What, my sweet one? In thy girlhood
Already a woe-stricken widow, ever
Bewailing thy dead bridegroom! Fate forbade me
To be the author of thy bliss. Perchance
I angered Heaven; it was not mine to compass
Thy happiness.
Innocent one, for what
Art thou a sufferer? And thou, my son,
With what art thou employed? What's this?

FEODOR. A chart
Of all the land of Muscovy; our tsardom
From end to end. Here you see; there is Moscow,
There Novgorod, there Astrakhan. Here lies
The sea, here the dense forest tract of Perm,
And here Siberia.

TSAR. And what is this
Which makes a winding pattern here?

FEODOR. That is
The Volga.

TSAR. Very good! Here's the sweet fruit
Of learning. One can view as from the clouds
Our whole dominion at a glance; its frontiers,
Its towns, its rivers. Learn, my son; 'tis science
Which gives to us an abstract of the events
Of our swift-flowing life.