(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. He is mad!

ANOTHER. That's nothing, friend. A single Pole can challenge

Five hundred Muscovites.

PRISONER. Yes, thou mayst challenge!

But when it comes to fighting, then, thou braggart,

Thou'lt run away.

POLE. If thou hadst had a sword,

Insolent prisoner, then (pointing to his sword) with this I'd soon

Have vanquished thee.

PRISONER. A Russian can make shift

Without a sword; how like you this (shows his fist), you fool?

(The Pole looks at him haughtily and departs in

silence. All laugh.)

A FOREST.

PRETENDER and PUSHKIN (In the background lies a dying horse)

PRETENDER. Ah, my poor horse! How gallantly he charged

Today in the last battle, and when wounded,

How swiftly bore me. My poor horse!

PUSHKIN. (To himself.) Well, here's

A great ado about a horse, when all

Our army's smashed to bits.