THE KNAVE
Thou hast spoke plain, and I shall be thy guest.
Let us away to take Lebowski’s quest.
Exeunt.
TWO GENTLEMEN
OF
LEBOWSKI
ACT 2
ACT 2
SCENE 1
LEBOWSKI’s castle. Flourish. Enter THE KNAVE, with LEBOWSKI on his deathbed.
LEBOWSKI
Behold stark irony of hours dark.
As night betakes my heart, I cast mine eyes
Back across a lifetime of achievement,
Of challenge met, competitors surmounted,
Of roguish mankind’s obstacles o’ercome,
Accomplish’d more than many dare to dream
In idle wishing; yet, remarkably,
Sans legs, like loaden branches, these my limbs
Imprison me from stature as a man.
But there’s the thing, I ask; what is a man?
Be it reason, his faculty, his pose?
His act or expression, his golden fire?
What maketh well the piece of work of man?
THE KNAVE
Faith, perplexing questions, for a Knave.
LEBOWSKI
Mayhap the measure of a man is found
Not in his store, his pelf, but in the storm
That tests him strong; the stabbing shocks of sin
That fix his courage to the post, and ask
If he be man, in times where men must stand
As Job was ask’d, or Jonah i’ the fish,
Ne’er to sit silent, but to be of parts.
If man be man, he wears the mantle well,
Prepared to stand upright—forgive my text—
In tests that render price no virtue deem’d.
THE KNAVE
That maketh a man, in sooth; an a man were to lack those two tests in cause betwixt his stance, ’twould be no man.
LEBOWSKI
You jest; but jesters do often prove prophets. My reeling thoughts yearn for such simple counsel.
THE KNAVE
I aim to smoke of the pipe, if that betide your lordship’s right good health.
LEBOWSKI
Behold my trappings and my suits of woe;
Alas for Bonnie! So loving to her, I;
She is the light broke forth through yonder window,
From which my life is seen anew, the Sun
And Moon in equal measures, shining thus
On souls starved sick for want of luminescence.
And now do women’s weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man’s cheeks; a marvel fair—
But do you take surprise to mark my tears?
THE KNAVE
Harking, nay. If moisture be the cost of love, weep on.
LEBOWSKI
O, it is excellent to have an achiever’s strength, but, curious, hath not a strong man a strong heart? Nay—strong men also weep, the justice of the eyes severe, at once the infant, mewing with a woeful ballad. Mark, a messenger did bring me dark counsel ere noontime.
He gives THE KNAVE a note.
THE KNAVE
I mark thee; ’tis text of rags and tatters.
LEBOWSKI
It is a note of foul and odious tenor,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
Of cowardice and folly, not of men;
They who achieve not upon equal play
Nor even sign their names are scarcely men,
But weaklings, hideous beggars, sinners all!
THE KNAVE
Most curious and monstrous note this is,
Announcing they have captured Bonnie fair,
And for her safe return we’d send the rogues
A thousand pounds in pieces broke in eight.
‘Instructions following; no punning jests’.
A foul, contemptuous deed! I mark thy pain.
LEBOWSKI
Of dark and cruel misdeeds I do know well.
Squire Brandt shall make you known of the details.
Enter BRANDT.
BRANDT
My lordship’s malady—unhappy hour!—
Forbids his action on this vilest act.
He seeks thy services as courier
To grant these thieves their ducats for their spoils
According to their wishes; thou would be
Offer’d a share in generosity.
A courier.
THE KNAVE
Faith, a tempting offer; but wherefore doth his lordship seek my qualities?
BRANDT
He hath recall’d thy sorry episode
Of rugs besoil’d, and villains in the murk.
An viewing varlet visages might aid
In rendering them punishèd, he sayest
’Twere best to have that knows the face of sin
And stands to tell the sexton that he sees.
THE KNAVE
Thou sayest his merry wife stands prisoner
Of those who were relieved upon my rug?
BRANDT
What may be true, I say not yes or no
Ere truth be found; in truth, we do not know.
Exeunt severally.
SCENE 2
The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER, and DONALD, to play at ninepins.
THE KNAVE
A strike, a very palpable strike! O, but Quince can roll straight and true.
WALTER
That he rolleth true, I cannot deny’t, but the man rolls not straight, for he is not a man to stand upright. To follow him perverts the present path. Two seasons has he idled in prison for exposing his manhood to a page-boy.
THE KNAVE
My lands!
WALTER
When first he came upon the holy wood, he was made to stand in public gallows, and in such great letters as they write ‘Here is good horse to hire’, it was signified on his sign, ‘Here you may see a paederast’.
DONALD
What manner of man be a paederast, Sir Walter?
A paederast.
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Sir Donald.—Knave, what measure of moneys were thou offer’d?
THE KNAVE
Twenty pounds for mine own, and the matter of the rug forgiven. They may summon me at any hour day or night.
WALTER
An they should call for thee in time of ninepins, that would hang us.
DONALD
What is like to happen in time of ninepins, Sir Walter?
WALTER
Peace, miserable villain; life will neither stop nor start at thy command.
THE KNAVE
My purse is as good as filled; here is money found with ease. I submit that the subtle lady may well indeed be her own adversary.
DONALD
I’d know thy mind further, Knave.
THE KNAVE
This be not the traffic of harden’d thieves,
Nor rug-pissers, nor ruffians o’ the night.
Look well upon a lady fair, so happy fair,
Who spurn’d her love for money, glitt’ring gold,
Where, much deprived of ample gifts and treats
Did scheme to steal a greater sum from some.
In owing much to much of men about
She sought devices to discharge her debt.
WALTER
O contemptible shrew!
THE KNAVE
As sure as what was said in Muscovy;
‘Look well to he whose benefit abounds
And knowest all’, as I have tried to say.
DONALD
I am flabbergasted, overbowl’d,
As clumsy and unsettled as a walrus.
WALTER
O pernicious shrew!
His wife, Sir Knave! Go get you from the door.
His wife’s a hobby-horse, deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench.
DONALD
I be the walrus.
A walrus.
WALTER
Hold thy tong
ue, Donald! Thy mind is Lenten.
The quality of wealth has sicken’d me.
And had I known that this would come to pass
(O vilest strumpet! Sinner! Painted whore!)
I might have tarried ere accepting service.
War in far-flung jungles, as my friends
Did die face-down in mire and muck and fens!
THE KNAVE
I see connection not in argument
’Twixt Bonnie and the wars of Orient.
WALTER
’Tis not connected literally, as rope,
But yet by stardust, thought-string, tears, and hope.
THE KNAVE
Look well, my friend; there be no connection.
Take to thy roll, thy play for our selection.
Enter JOSHUA QUINCE and LIAM O’BRIEN.
QUINCE
Hail, masters! I crave thine able readiness
To be dealt with roughly, as the Sodomites.
For men of sport have noted that our play
In semifinal hour draws on apace.
By Jove! I’ll wager well, Liam and me,
To thrash thee soundly at the fair tourney.
THE KNAVE
Yea, well, that be, forsooth, thy opinion, sir.
QUINCE
Well; but be forewarn’d. It reach’d mine ear
That combustible Walter, o’ercome with rage,
Did shed good sense, and raise his sword in play.
I fear not such jade’s tricks, and seeing ill,
Would snatch the burden from the jealous knight
And pierce his gizzard with the wrongful steel,
Points up, as said of Coriolanus.
‘Points up’
THE KNAVE
Zounds!
QUINCE
Thou speakest rightly, sir. No man misdeals with Joshua Quince, by Jesu.
Exeunt QUINCE and O’BRIEN.
WALTER
Nay, fear him not, nor his unworthy joys.
Recall the tragic tale of the page-boys.
Exeunt WALTER and DONALD.
THE KNAVE
Here I stand in sole on shrouded stage
To contemplate the bowls; a fitting sport
For men who serve to stand and then to fall.
But soft; what noise is this? Hark! Who’s there?
Speak, if thou wouldst enter; I am no porter.
Enter MAUDE and her VARLETS, unidentified. They strike him, and exeunt.
‘The fireworks do city lanterns make’
Again I bleed; wherefore do I attract
The wrongful slings and arrows of the land?
Who was’t, mystery woman, craved my blood?
Who was’t struck my jaw for satisfaction?
The fireworks do city lanterns make
And so I soar, down staring with a smile
Upon the place beneath; and seen ahead,
A short-hair’d damsel rides a flying carpet
From Arabian legend; here falls the Knave.
In sooth, I’m weary. Let us have a song.
’Tis well; for I have song for such a spell,
Reminded to me by befever’d dreams
Of man, and all that maketh mannish mettle
And what fair woman’s task be in the battle.
[sings]
_____________
‘Behold a man to undertake quests brave
With little recompense for which to crave.
In sooth, Jove send a woman such as thee
Fain would discover true the man in me.’
Exit.
SCENE 3
A bridge.
A bridge. Enter THE KNAVE and BRANDT (with a sack of money).
BRANDT
The eightieth minute passes since their call,
Dispatch’d by emissary rough of speech.
So Knave, I charge thee, heed their every word,
Obeying all requests that they beseech.
Thy charge is simple: wait here all alone,
Let no man be companion to your end.
They spoke with crystal clarity; I dare
Not tarry long, lest they think me your friend.
What fate befell thy jaw, m’lord?
THE KNAVE
No mind.
BRANDT
Then take these golden coins to leave behind.
Be wise and well, and heed the villains’ plans:
I tell thee that her life is in thy hands.
THE KNAVE
Sir, I attend.
BRANDT
My lord did beseech me repeat that; hark well that her life is in thy hands. Her life is in thy hands, Knave; I will attend thy signal. Take pains. Be perfect. Adieu.
Exit BRANDT.
THE KNAVE
By troth! A life in hands as rough as mine,
In hands design’d for dissolution harsh.
What doth a Knave awake at witching hours?
But soft. Look sharp. Here’s a strangeness indeed.
Enter WALTER, with a satchel.
WALTER
Hail, good Knave! I see you stand to linger.
Take of me this, I bring you here a ringer
A ringer.
THE KNAVE
What devilry, sir? By whose direction found’st thou out this place?
WALTER
Hours at my store have I spent weighing the motives and sensations of this crime, whirling like the dervish of faraway civilities, to catch how the case was clad. Here in this satchel I have weighed out my mud-stain’d trousers, my dirty jerkins, foul French hose, and assorted motleys.
THE KNAVE
By my life, I see not why thou hast thy soiled vestments.
WALTER
We will not wait upon mine answer; for the answer is weight. It is for the fullness of our pleasure that this very selfsame double look not empty, but in equal scale.
THE KNAVE
Is thy invention to call a hawk a handsaw?
WALTER
It came upon me to think, as if rising from a dream, wherefore it was our lot to settle for a plague-struck twenty pounds.
THE KNAVE
Wherefore the ‘we’, the ‘our’ in this hour?
WALTER
We could well own the thousand pounds in thy grasp, with no man the wiser. Be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
Yea, I’ll hazard all I have by it. At my word, Walter, this be not a jest.
WALTER
At thy word, Knave, ’tis. Thou sayest she spirits herself.
Enter several NIHILISTS, below, concealed.
NIHILIST
Who’s there? Stand and unfold yourself.
THE KNAVE
Speak! I come carefully upon the hour. Steer us by the evening star.
NIHILIST
‘Us’? Hold thy tongue, or tongues if be ye two;
Your charge was to come in person only you.
THE KNAVE
Nay, I am one man, of several persons.
For each man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being two voices. Speak, friend!
WALTER
Knave, knowest thou the way to examine?
THE KNAVE
Peace, Walter! Thy presence does me ill.
Her life is in our hands; they’re like to kill.
WALTER
Naught is bespoil’d; thou art not acting in the manner according to a Knave. This above all: to thine own self be true. Let him speak again.
NIHILIST
Hello there!
WALTER
Seest thou? Naught is bespoil’d. These rank villains are but amateurs.
NIHILIST
Be not rash, unadvised, or sudden.
Knave, we shall proceed this time of meeting,
But do not feign, O witnesses above.
Toss down thy coin, to me bescreen’d in night.
WALTER
Pass me the ringer, Knave; we’ll hand it down.
THE KNAVE
I
love thee, Walter, but thou art a fool.
They throw down the ringer.
WALTER
Here is thy purse, varlets, thy cheated prize.
The money’s ours. Quick, Knave, thy chariot;
We’ll bowl in friendship ere the sun arise.
Look sharp! A pox upon’t, Knave; let us play at ninepins.
Exeunt severally.
SCENE 4
Bowling.
The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE and WALTER, to play at ninepins.
THE KNAVE
What hast thou done, Walter? What will we tell
The big Lebowski, who loves his wife so well?
I trust thee not for scheme and subtle gore;
The first thing they do, they’ll kill the woman poor!
WALTER
Poor woman! Poor wench! You prattle on, O Knave!
Her captor and her self are the selfsame.
As so thou spake; and so still I believe.
She’s no abusèd victim, but a thief.
THE KNAVE
Thou heardst me wrong; I said in idle thought
She might have selfsame stole; but whence the proof
And certitude thou hast to light this act?
What if thy certainty is all in vain?
Retain thy state and in consideration check
If majesty has fallen now to folly
In hideous rashness.
WALTER
I do assent
My certitude is one hundred per cent.
Enter DONALD.
DONALD
The jousts and games of sport continue on;
The looming tourney plans are posted high
And stand recorded in this schedule writ.
WALTER
Donald, hold thy tongue—no, stay, I err.
When do they set our match of open air?
DONALD
Faith, we face Joshua Quince and the Irishman this very Saturday.
WALTER
Saturday! Unhappy fortune. Something was forgotten in the state of office. A calendar, a calendar! Look in the almanac; find a date uncancell’d by destiny. What manner of fool is he that scheduled this date? I did take pains to disclose my unavailability.
DONALD
Marry, ’twas Burkhalter.
WALTER
A German, all slops, or low Dutch; thrice I made him to know that I roll not on Saturday.
DONALD
But posted it be; what’s done cannot be undone.
WALTER
They shall unpost it, by my life!
THE KNAVE
I care not, Walter—what of that poor woman?
WALTER
Peace, Knave; she will tire of her little game anon, and wander back in the manner of the punish’d cur, tail between her legs.
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski Page 3
