Exeunt severally.
SCENE 3
THE BIG LEBOWSKI’s castle. Enter THE KNAVE and BRANDT.
BRANDT
My lord is a man of accomplishment of many years, good travelling Knave; I pray you examine these honours and colours, proof of life well lived. See here, the key to an old city, once defended against man and beast; and there, a commendation for men of business, bestow’d not by the twelvemonth but by the mettle of the man.
THE KNAVE
Is that the Queen I see before me, render’d in oil-paints?
BRANDT
Indeed that is Sir Geoffrey of Lebowski, attending the Queen in humble fealty, during her blessèd reign; as Queen, I remind you, not as Princess.
THE KNAVE
Faith, an excellent tale.
BRANDT
I have not yet told all; indeed Sir Lebowski did counsel the King himself, it is said, though, alas!, uncaptured in timely artistry.
THE KNAVE
A man of many faculties.
BRANDT
As many as capabilities, yet always one to boost his reach. Here you may glimpse a record of his children.
THE KNAVE
A care-crazed father of many children; it is a wise father that knows his own child. An excellent list for a man of no doubt excellent issue.
BRANDT
An amiable jest! Nay, I’d call’d his children his, but they come not of his loins, thou understand’st.
THE KNAVE
A cuckold, he?
BRANDT
A most subtle jest! Nay, but children of the inner city, of good promise, sworn to study but without the means. My lord resolves that they will all attend the university.
THE KNAVE
Verily!—Mine own years in the university hath fled my memory, though I recall some happy hours in the homes of various headmasters, the smoking of the pipe, breaking into the armoury, and playing at ninepins.
Enter LEBOWSKI, on a cart. Exit BRANDT.
LEBOWSKI
Marry, sir!—You be Lebowski, I be Lebowski, ’tis a wondrous strange comedy of errors. But I am a man of business, as I imagine you are; tell me what you’d have me do for you.
THE KNAVE
Sir, I possess a rug, that, i’faith, tied the room together—
LEBOWSKI
You sent Brandt a messenger on horseback; he inform’d me. How dost thou find me most fit for business?
THE KNAVE
They sought thee, these two gentlemen—
LEBOWSKI
I shall repeat; you sent Brandt a messenger on horseback; he inform’d me.
THE KNAVE
Then thou art aware ’twas thy rug, sir, that was the target of this crime.
LEBOWSKI
Was it I, sir, who had a varlet’s gift
To rain a shower on commanded rugs,
And set it in a shower of gold, i’faith?
THE KNAVE
Not in person, sir—but if a man is his name, and his reputation his indelible inkstain, surely thy sea of care is tormented; what tongue shall smooth thy name?
LEBOWSKI
Make me to understand, sir, for you are slow of speech as I of step, and I am unsatisfied in motive. When upon any carpet consideration the rain it raineth within these city walls, must I stand accountable? Or are you as one of a thousand rogues, fishing for sixpence betwixt another man’s purse-strings? Are you a labourer, Master Lebowski, earning that you eat, getting that you wear?
THE KNAVE
Let me not to the marriage of false impressions deny impediments. I am not Master Lebowski; thou art Master Lebowski. I am the Knave, call’d the Knave. Or His Knaveness, or mayhap
Knaver, or mayhap El Knaverino, in the manner of the Spaniard, if brevity be not in thy soul nor wit. A Knave by any other name would abide just as well.
LEBOWSKI
Hast thou employment, sirrah? Surely you hope not to pledge fealty nor till the earth in such roughly fashion’d armour, invested in thy motley, clad as a jack-a-dandy on a Sunday?
THE KNAVE
I know not; what week-day, friend, is this?
Armour.
LEBOWSKI
I tire, and cannot tarry; I am more busy than the labouring spider, and dwell on the iron tread as a man of constant pursuits. Thus, I pray you, you this way and I that way.
THE KNAVE
I must protest; the Knave mindeth. This will not stand, this uncheck’d aggression; for your strength of mighty kings and masters of the earth did not keep your wife from owing, a borrower and a lender being.
LEBOWSKI
How does my wife? She’s not the issue here; my shrewish wife hath a way with will, but I toil in hopes that she will shed her frivolities, rash and unadvised, and live within her allowance, which is in very ample virtue. Her mortal failures are her burden, as surely as your rug is your burden, and, verily, the burdens of every man be his own, and ’tis in themselves that they be thus or thus. I’ll blame none for the loss of my legs. Some man of Orient birth robbed them from me as spoils of war; faith, who stole my legs stole trash, and I sallied forth and achieved in any aspect. Some are born achievers, some achieve greatly, and some have achievement thrust upon ’em. Beseech me not!
THE KNAVE
Ah, a pox upon’t!
LEBOWSKI
Indeed! ‘A pox upon’t!’ ’Tis thine answer to everything. Your merry revels have ended, sir. Let us condole the knight. The rogues lost; the rogues have always lost, will always lose, and so will it be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Exit LEBOWSKI; enter BRANDT.
BRANDT
Good Master Lebowski. Did you enjoy meeting my honourable lord?
THE KNAVE
Truly, sir, a nobleman most gentle;
He bade me take any rug in the castle.
Exeunt.
SCENE 4
Outside LEBOWSKI’s castle. Enter THE KNAVE (with a Persian rug) and BRANDT.
BRANDT
I pray you, Knave, remember us in future visitations.
THE KNAVE
Faith, surely when next I near this neighbourhood, I will call upon his lordship’s good honour, and beseech his refreshment.
Enter BONNIE and OLIVER.
BONNIE
[sings]
‘With toe-nails of verdant and forester’s green
With a hey-nonny-no and a hey-nonny-nonny
Blow thrice on my toe-nails and I’ll be thy queen
And ever preserve me as thine, blithe and Bonnie.’
[to THE KNAVE]
I pray you, sir, blow.
THE KNAVE
Marry! But here’s a lady of good interest, whose toe-nails are the very green of the common hump, where grass doth grow and where country lovers do foot. Whither shall I blow, maid? For I am but a travelling tumble-weed, and may well be carried by any wind, e’en south.
BONNIE
I mean only the wind in thine own maw in this case; blow, then, serve your turn and cool my hot temper.
THE KNAVE
Sayest thou that I must blow upon thy foot, painted lady?
BONNIE
I ask this deed of you thrice now; and that which a damsel craves constantly is the service of a tongue most moved in capability. Look to my foot; I cannot reach that far. Blow, wind!
THE KNAVE
I fear thy charms. Will not thy consort mind
If I bestow his lady fair my wind?
BONNIE
Nay, there’s naught for which Oliver carest; He mindeth not, for he’s a nihilist.
THE KNAVE
O exhausting condition!
BRANDT
Our court’s noble guest must not tarry, Lady Lebowski.
THE KNAVE
Lady Lebowski? Then thou art Bonnie? A merry wife indeed!
BONNIE
And a lady of good housekeeping and agriculture besides, minded to economy and all practicalities. Were thou to bring a gentle cock to my bed-chamber, I might help him to
success for ten shillings.
A cock.
THE KNAVE
Such a lady of talents I have scarcely seen.
BRANDT
Yes, a most forthright jest! Free of spirit and good generosity, she is the nimble nymph of Neptune, and we mark her with good humour.
BONNIE
Free of spirit but ne’er free for flesh. Were I to regale thee with parts of my humour, I would not bid Brandt hear the play ere he paid a shilling himself.
BRANDT
Hark, a marvelous jest; but, I pray you, we dare not tarry. Come, Knave.
THE KNAVE
Yea, I shall come, and then return with money,
Or lose the labour’d love of fair Bonnie.
Exeunt.
SCENE 5
A bowling green.
The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER (with a dog), and JACK SMOKE, to play at ninepins.
WALTER
Thy tale is the stuff of dreams, and yet a waking dream of will. I had those words under a spreading tree in Jerusalem.
THE KNAVE
An I were dreaming afore, I care not, but do I dream anew? What manner of beast bringest thou to our nightly sport?
WALTER
Marry, ’tis the remnant of a previous life’s nightly sport. That I was once a married man, thou knowest well; that the Lady Cynthia was a great lover of dogs, thou know’st in lesser degree; and the cur abandon’d has a tendency to dine upon chair-leg and oaken table, most retrograde to my lady’s desire.
THE KNAVE
Thou speakest in riddles.
WALTER
It hath been my charge to attend this cur ere my Lady Cynthia return ashore from a voyage to the islands, commanded by Sir Martin of Ackerman.
THE KNAVE
Thou bringest a cur to ninepins?
WALTER
I bring naught to ninepins. The dog is not attired by my hand to play at sport, nor do I fetch it ale, nor shall he throw thy bowl-turn in thy stead.
THE KNAVE
Why, this is lunatics! This is mad as a mad dog! Were I a cuckold of such horn, and an untamed shrew bade me mind her animal passions on maiden voyages, whilst men of lesser virtue did swim in foreign waters and seek the isle within the brook, marry, I would cry out ‘Go hang!’ and leave the cur to fall where he may. Can she not board the beast with some gentle farmer or country shepherdess?
WALTER
I pray thee, speak not of rites of marriage; for here a man calleth
vinegar the wine he hath not himself imbibed.
The cur is one of consequence, admired
In circles of husbandry, with well-noted
Documentation of his qualities;
And if ’twere spook’d, it might lose hide and hair.
The cur hath parchments—
THE KNAVE
Hark, now bowls Jack Smoke.
WALTER
Thou cross’st the line!
JACK SMOKE
Your pardon, noble sir?
WALTER
Thou cross’st the line, Jack Smoke, O cavalier,
As clearly demarcated in our rules,
In tumbling past the throw. ’Tis play most foul.
JACK SMOKE
But see the pins struck down in fair play’s course!
Knave, mark mine eight of nine pins; mark it eight.
WALTER
Not eight but l’oeuf:; you’ll mark it nought, O Knave,
And so we carry on to the next frame.
JACK SMOKE
Peace, Sir Walter!
WALTER
Smokey, this be not the foul jungles of the darkest East Orient. This be ninepins. We are bound by laws.
THE KNAVE
Nay, Walter; the quality of mercy is hardly strain’d. But a fraction of his toe tripp’d over the line, not God’s line but man’s. Of late I have read much of toe-nails. Suit the punishment to the action, and shame not Smoke in sport.
WALTER
O unrightful judge!
This forfeiture is set in iron law
As drawn by great authority of league.
One roll might well determine that our side
Advance to glory; or be instead retired
As moss upon a tree-stump, while the Smoke
Drifts out to wreaths and triumphs. Hear’st thou
The robin redbreast’s call? If robin shall
Restore amends, we must serve justice
Here. Be I wrong?
JACK SMOKE
Yea, but—
WALTER
Be I wrong?
JACK SMOKE
Thy words are hard; I must equivocate.
Put up thy pen, that I may mark it eight.
WALTER
Nay! I do protest, and draw my sword;
It shall teach thee to disobey my word.
Mark none but none into that bowler’s frame,
Else thou shalt enter into a world of pain.
A world of pain.
A world of pain, think upon’t; unhappy world!
A lake of fire, rich with damnèd souls,
Gulfs of anguish ’twixt vales of agonies.
Mark me; we stand at twisted, jealous gates
Of cast-iron, above which, in vulgar tongue, reads
‘Here is a world of pain, thou enterest thus’.
My steel before thee, ’tis the last of keys
That might could lock these doors, and keep thee
From this world of pain, or with one flick
Ope its mashing maw, and summon winds
To cast thee down within; an excellent key!
Farewell to earthly delights, farewell to friends,
To fellowships and follies and amends.
The choice to spare thy passage through these trials
Is thine alone; take heed, I entreat thee,
And turn thy back upon this world of pain!
THE KNAVE
Walter, put up thy sword; tarry a moment.
WALTER
Hath this whole world been mired in madness?
Remain ye men of faculty complete,
Of full arithmetic and prudence fair,
Attending to our noble bond and contract?
Or does here stand the last remaining man
To give a fig for rules and order yet,
No noble savage, but a stave unbroken
Who loves the law and bids it no misdeed.
I’ll not be bent to lawlessness. Mark it nought, if we be men of honour.
THE KNAVE
Walter, the constable is notified. I pray you, sheath thy piece.
A sword.
WALTER
Mark it nought, else I’ll none.
JACK SMOKE
Good Sir Walter, speak with reason!
WALTER
Dost thou think I tarry idly? Mark it nought!
JACK SMOKE
Yea, I shall yield, and leave it to your pleasure. Mark as thou wilt, in full and legal measure.
Exit JACK SMOKE. WALTER sits.
THE KNAVE
In sooth, Walter, thou hast wounded me horribly.
Jack Smoke is cut of cloth alike my humour;
Peaceable men we, for peaceable times,
And Jack Smoke is a man of soft conscience.
Pacifists.
WALTER
How absolute the Knave is!—
That he is conscious, I mark thee; I attend well.
In tender youth I dabbled in a course
To seek and hear moral philosophy.
Encount’ring pacifism on that road,
Though ne’er in Orient jungle, beshrew me; yet
I thought upon’t e’en on fields of war.
THE KNAVE
Thou markest that Jack Smoke hath woes of mind.
WALTER
Faith, beyond pacifism?
THE KNAVE
He is a man of fragility, sir, and like to shatter.
WALTER
‘Like’; yet I mark not his fra
gile dust,
Nor saw him break, nor melt, nor cleave in two.
The heated moment passeth, river-tide
Below a bridge in Exeter. Speak, Knave,
Are we not victorious in our sport?
We progress as do rakes; or be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
No, thou speakest true—
WALTER
Be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
No, sir, thy words are straight and true. But yet thou speakest not, for thou hast not spoken but bray’d, in the manner of an ass.
An ass.
WALTER
Fair; then I am an ass; let it be writ down that I am an ass. Then, mark well: the Knave and his partner, an ass, shall play again at ninepins in half a fortnight, their skills match’d against Joshua Quince and Liam O’Brien. They worry me not; they shall be o’er-push’d with certitude.
THE KNAVE
An we play again in seven days and seven nights, I pray you, be of good humour.
WALTER
‘Be of good humour!’ ’Tis thine answer to everything.
Mark: thy peaceable nature, while conceived
In upright spirit, meant for noble deeds,
May cited be by devils for their purpose.
Mark well the Arab king in foreign land,
The base Mesopotamian, who lieth with steed.
Thou present’st to me a wall to hide behind
’Twas born of truce in fear and frighten’d mind.
THE KNAVE
I pray you, be of good humour.
WALTER
I am as calm as still waters, Knave.
THE KNAVE
As steel waters, I’ll warrant; put up thy
Icy blade! Crack not gory tales of war!
WALTER
My calmness exceeds thine.
THE KNAVE
Be of ease, I pray you! Be of good cheer,
And let us not repeat what happen’d here!
WALTER
My calmness exceeds thine. But hark; here comes a visitor.
Enter BRANDT.
BRANDT
All hail, good sir, honour’d Lebowski, hail!
’Tis I, one Brandt by name, humble servant still
To he whose name you recognise so well.
Wilt thou tarry with me a moment? Nay—
Fear not—we care not for the rug.
By carriage I would bring you to his lordship
Secluded in his castle’s western wing,
Saith none to any man or good counsel,
Despondent to the last; thus I despair.
I call on thine assistance, gentle Knave.
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski Page 2
