PRETENDER. The army had more need of him.
Well, how go things in Moscow?
PRISONER. All is quiet,
Thank God.
PRETENDER. Say, do they look for me?
PRISONER. God knows;
They dare not talk too much there now. Of some
The tongues have been cut off, of others even
The heads. It is a fearsome state of things--
Each day an execution. All the prisons
Are crammed. Wherever two or three forgather
In public places, instantly a spy
Worms himself in; the tsar himself examines
At leisure the denouncers. 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.
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