(Exeunt Ksenia and nurse.)

What news hast thou for me, Semyon Nikitich?

Semyon G. Today at dawn the butler of Prince Shuisky
And Pushkin’s servant brought me information.

Tsar.  Well?

Semyon G. In the first place Pushkin’s man deposed
That yestermorn came to his house from Cracow
A courier, who within an hour was sent
Without a letter back.

Tsar.  Arrest the courier.

Semyon G. Some are already sent to overtake him.

Tsar.  And what of Shuisky?

Semyon G. Last night he entertained
His friends; the Buturlins, both Miloslavskys,
And Saltikov, with Pushkin and some others. 
They parted late.  Pushkin alone remained
Closeted with his host and talked with him
A long time more.

Tsar.  For Shuisky send forthwith.

Semyon G. Sire, he is here already.

Tsar.  Call him hither.

(Exit Semyon Godunov.)

Dealings with Lithuania?  What means this? 
I like not the seditious race of Pushkins,
Nor must I trust in Shuisky, obsequious,
But bold and wily—­

(Enter Shuisky.)

Prince, I must speak with thee. 
But thou thyself, it seems, hast business with me,
And I would listen first to thee.

Shuisky.  Yea, sire;
It is my duty to convey to thee
Grave news.

Tsar.  I listen.

Shuisky. (Sotto voce, pointing to Feodor.)
                  But, sire—­

Tsar.  The tsarevich
May learn whate’er Prince Shuisky knoweth.  Speak.

Shuisky.  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.