THE KNAVE
A pox upon the tourney! And thee, Walter!
I might have escaped this with few pains
But for the shock of stench upon my rug.
Now I am cursed with damages tenfold
In seeking counsel from so great an ass.
WALTER
‘A pox upon the tourney’, he declares.
Come, then, Donald; we’ll leave him as he fares.
Exeunt WALTER and DONALD.
THE KNAVE
O, that these two, two solid friends would leave
Me to resolve myself on what to do.
Two noble kinsmen, nay?—Another ale.
Why, then, the Russian White my only drink;
Let’s drink together friendly and embrace.
Enter the CHORUS.
CHORUS
What sayst thou, Mistress Quickly? Hast thou a goodly beverage, brew’d of sarsaparilla-root?
MISTRESS QUICKLY
[without]
As brew’d in the city of the base Indian.
CHORUS
Ay, there’s a good one. How fares the Knave?
THE KNAVE
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
CHORUS
Such a day, I mark thee, whereupon the winter of our discontent is ne’er made glorious summer. A gentleman wiser than myself did say that on some such days, thou exits, pursued by a bear, and on others, the bear exits, pursued by you.
A bear.
THE KNAVE
By my troth, a good philosophy. Was’t of the Orient?
CHORUS
Nay, far from it. I mark well thy fashion, good Knave.
THE KNAVE
And I thy fashion, stranger.
CHORUS
Many thanks.
If I may crave a boon, may I request
That thine ungracious mouth be less profane,
Spoke less in cursing word, and more in craft?
THE KNAVE
What dost thou speak upon, O damned fool?
CHORUS
I jest; well-spoken, Knave. Be of good ease;
Exeunt now, the tumbling tumble-weeds.
Exeunt.
SCENE 6
MAUDE’s studio. Enter THE KNAVE and MAUDE, with KNOX HARRINGTON.
THE KNAVE
What manner of man is this pilgrim strange,
Who sits upon my lady’s couch and laughs
As if in private humour of his own.
What is thy trade; what secret craft is thine?
KNOX HARRINGTON
You know. ’Tis nothing much to look upon,
Matters of no import. A bit of this;
A little bit of that; O, how I laugh!
MAUDE
Geoffrey, thou hast not seen doctor skill’d
Whose studio I ask’d thee to attend.
Hast thou heard news of money yet recouped?
THE KNAVE
In sooth, I must confess I was waylaid
And fear I must resign the charge at hand;
Oliver hath persuaded me to rest.
MAUDE
He is a hired player and a fool,
An actor poor, unexcellent musician,
Who’d play abductor for this fiendish plot.
Thou knowest well this woman is in health,
No more a victim than she mother’d me.
THE KNAVE
This case perplexes me in complex course, With many ins and many outs and strands.
KNOX HARRINGTON
Most mirthful! I’ll titter thus upon’t.
THE KNAVE
Beshrew me, who is this gentleman, Maude, to parlay in thy parlour?
MAUDE
Knox Harrington, the tapestry artist. Geoffrey, thou hast not seen the doctor, and I fear for thy bruise.—Enter, doctor!
A doctor.
Enter DOCTOR BUTTS.
I would not be to blame for pains delay’d.
And yea, he is an honourable man, and thorough.
Examine him, good doctor, as thou wilt.
DOCTOR BUTTS
Do slide thy breeches, Master Lebowski.
THE KNAVE
’Pon my life, I was stricken on the jaw.
DOCTOR BUTTS
’Tis well; but still thy breeches must be slid.
MAUDE
Come, Geoffrey. While the good doctor examines,
I’d have a song, if it pleases thee.
THE KNAVE
[sings]
‘Prove true, imagination,
To make a man sing blessings,
Hey-nonny-no, thou monarch of the vine;
Burthen me on the morrow,
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
Hey-nonny-no, looking from back-door mine.’
Exeunt severally.
‘Hey-nonny-no, looking from back-door mine’
TWO GENTLEMEN
OF
LEBOWSKI
ACT 4
ACT 4
SCENE 1
A playhouse. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER, and DONALD, to hear the PLAYERS.
WALTER
Come, Knave; I’d hear the balance of thy tale.
Inside thy car didst thou detect some trace
By villains left, who deprived it of goods?
No ghost of guilt, identity betray’d
By careless thieves who cover’d not their tracks?
THE KNAVE
I found a document, so roughly writ
It troubled me to make good sense of it.
Of school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence,
A paper writ in study by some churl
Of youth not born under a rhyming planet.
’Twas lesser verse composed and badly hewn,
Concern’d the King of France, and purchased land,
And though I am a weakish speller, I
Detected errors mark’d throughout in hand
Of school-master despair’d, in ink so red
At first the Knave had thought that he had bled.
WALTER
In faith, I will examine me this text
And see if by its hand its maker’s traced.
Hark; here’s the name of its rude author,
One Laurence Sellers, living in the north.
He dwelleth near a tavern, in and out
Reputed for the searing of beefsteak.
DONALD
Those be fine beefsteaks, Walter.
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Donald; I’ve not said all.
The varlet is a youth whose father stands
A titan in the world of hired players,
A playwright, Arthur Digby Sellers call’d.
His plays renown’d throughout the continent,
Bulk of the series, Knave, and no light-weight.
How tragic that his son doth prove a dunce!
An north we proceed, once concluded be
The merriment of this performance piece—
A dance.
DONALD
Then might we dine on beefsteaks, in and out?
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Donald, I pray thee; thou art a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to thy wit. Yea, we shall brace the kid; he shall be o’er-push’d with certitude. We shall take what moneys he hath not spent, and yea, we shall be near the place of good repute, to feast on beefsteaks, have some ales and merry jests. Our troubles be over, Knave.
Exeunt.
SCENE 2
Outside a castle in the north. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER, and DONALD.
THE KNAVE
Alack! Regard this finest car without;
The child hath spent the bulk of money mine
On yon conveyance, like a corvette ship
To sail on simpler waters than I swim.
A corvette.
WALTER
Not so; the vehicle’s but three or four
Per cent of all thy gains the villain seized,
Dependent on the trappings. Donald, hold;
/> We’ll speak with young Laurence, and circle swift.
Ho, Squire Laurence! Reveal thyself and chat.
Enter LAURENCE SELLERS.
Thy father suffers problems with his health
And writes no more—a shame on it, say I,
For on a level personal his works
Were muse to me; I was a man to love
The early episodes birth’d of his quill.
Thou art a writer, Laurence, as I’ve read,
Though one of orthography correctèd.
He raises the document.
Thou art a lad of years mayhap fifteen,
At once a lad and coming to a man
Who’s wise, I trust, to welcome not the law,
Constabulary actions being harsh.
Is this thy parchment, Laurence? Tell me true.
Is this thy parchment, Laurence? Tell me plain.
Home-work in progress.
THE KNAVE
Be quick, Sir Walter! Ask of chattels bought.
Ask if that fine corvette without be his.
WALTER
Is this thy parchment, Laurence? Home-work thine?
THE KNAVE
We know that well, Sir Walter! His it be!
Whither the money, varlet, mewling spawn?
WALTER
Demand him nothing. What we know, we know.
From this time forth he never will speak word.
Hark, Laurence, hast thou studied of a place Of Orient jungles?
THE KNAVE
Walter, prithee nay!
WALTER
Youth, thou art entering a world of pain.
We know this document is home-work thine,
And that thou stealest cars—
THE KNAVE
And moneys too!
WALTER
And moneys, and this is thy home-work, boy.
Wherefore silence? What impudence is this?
Thou art killing thy father, Laurence! O!
This hath no end; he never will speak word.
I take thy parchment back, and turn to plans
Of secondary contingence. Look well.
Behold thy car, the corvette, crimson-stain’d,
And see what befalls sinners evermore.
He raises his sword, and smites the car.
This befalleth when thou firk’st a stranger ’twixt the buttocks, Laurence! Understand’st thou? Dost thou attend me? Seest thou what happens, Laurence? Seest thou what happens, Laurence? Seest thou what happens, Laurence, when thou firk’st a stranger ’twixt the buttocks?!
Enter CLOWN.
This be what befalleth, Laurence! This be what befalleth, Laurence!
CLOWN
What hast thou wrought, thou wraith of province strange?
The corvette be my purchase yester-week;
Alas! My car, admired, baby mine.
My car hath shuffled off this mortal coil.
WALTER
Marry, an honest blunder; I knew it never thine.
CLOWN
I maketh thee to shuffle off this mortal coil, man! Nay, I’ll be revenged in proper recompense, suiting the punishment to the action, the action to the punishment; I maketh thy car to shuffle off this mortal coil!
He raises his sword, and smites THE KNAVE’s car.
THE KNAVE
No! Thou hast trespass’d wrongly; that be not Sir Walter’s conveyance, but mine own!
CLOWN
I maketh thy car to shuffle off this mortal coil! I maketh thy accursed car to shuffle off this mortal coil!
DONALD
Faith! I sit within, and cringe in fear;
What fools these mortals be that tarry here!
Exeunt.
SCENE 3
The theatre of JAQUES TREEHORN. Enter THE KNAVE.
THE KNAVE
Here I stand on quarters unfamiliar,
A pad of land of quality unspoil’d,
Having dined on beefsteak on the journey
In and out; and whereupon Sir Walter
Tender’d his apologies remorseful,
Hoping that I might have made it home,
Wond’ring still if Laurence may have crack’d.
Upon my homeward coming was I met
Most harshly by these ruffians unschool’d
Who’ve traffick’d in my house; I like them not.
Enter BLANCHE and WOO.
BLANCHE
Again we meet, Lebowski, who thou art;
And yea, we know of which Lebowski art
Thy deadbeat frame.
WOO
So do attend, O sprite;
Thou dealest not with fools this wicked night.
Exeunt BLANCHE and WOO. Flourish. Enter JAQUES TREEHORN.
JAQUES TREEHORN
Good Knave, my thanks for travels thou hast made;
By Jaques Treehorn I am called in name.
I bid thee welcome to my humble home
And beg thee take a bev’rage of thy choice.
‘Whitest Russia’
THE KNAVE
The brew of whitest Russia I would sip,
As fair York’s rose. How fares thy working trade?
JAQUES TREEHORN
A playwright and theatre-man am I,
With tendrils dipp’d in lakes of many stripes,
In printed word, in dumb-show and in court.
THE KNAVE
Which be ‘Log Jamming’?
JAQUES TREEHORN
Thou readest my regret;
The playhouse is a place of disrepair.
When rude mechanicals may gather nights
To play in interludes most amateur,
We cut the very wheat from our fair crop
And make poor sport of spectacle and tale,
With no more tears in the performing of ’t.
Thy brain hath in the function of its power
The zone where faith is firmly fix’d in love,
Richer than all thy tribe in other parts.
THE KNAVE
On thee, mayhap.
JAQUES TREEHORN
The brightest heaven of invention
May yet compass wonders fit for devils
In greatest fair effects of future hopes.
Such plays may well transport us all beyond
This ignorant present.
THE KNAVE
Faith, an excellent dream;
But I still read Ben Jonson manually.
A beaver picture.
JAQUES TREEHORN
Ay, there’s the rub. I pray thee, Knave, to hear
The purpose of my night’s invitation
As brought thee to my seat. Where’s Bonnie fair?
THE KNAVE
O irony; I thought that thou couldst know.
JAQUES TREEHORN
My mind is slate and sky-dark; the lady
Only ran off to flee her debt to me,
A bond, a sizable bond.
THE KNAVE
But she ran not!
JAQUES TREEHORN
I know thy troubles, Knave, the tangled web
Woven upon the practice to deceive.
An thou robbest her husband, I care not.
How goes the world, that I am thus encounter’d
With clamorous demands of broken bonds
And the detention of long-since-due debts?
THE KNAVE
Well spoke; but sir, there many facets be.
The parties of interest are of scope
And multitude in number. What’s for me,
What of the Knave, if he retains thy gold?
JAQUES TREEHORN
The tenth part of the plunder shall be thine;
But drink thou from thy goblet, ere it warms.
THE KNAVE
I’ll drink your health, good Jaques, as a friend
For greatly is thy jib-cut most admired.
The Knave carouses to thy fortune, Treehorn.
But hark! O venom! What betides my drink,
&nbs
p; That makes me swoon? The drink. I am poison’d.
The treacherous White Russian in my hand.
He falls.
And all the Knave e’er wanted was his rug
As spoken of, which tied the room together.
Look sharp! Darkness overtakes the Knave,
Of blacker shade than cattle’s secret parts
On moonless nights in Devonshire. I fall.
_____________
It hath no bottom, not this apparition;
I drop to view the state of my condition.
Exeunt severally.
SCENE 4
THE KNAVE’s house. Enter THE KNAVE.
THE KNAVE
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Methought I waked to find I could be bound in a satchel of infinite space, only to be overcome by a summer’s cloud, to throw myself to heaven, to have my mind scrape upon the smirch’d complexion of the sky, and tear it thus. Most peculiar.
Then was I found by night-watch constable,
Who liked my jerkin not, and told me thus,
And cast me from his beach community.
And eagles gazed upon with every eye;
And O, I hate the cursèd eagles, man.
‘And eagles gazed upon with every eye’
Enter MAUDE.
It is my lady friend, it is my love.
MAUDE
Come, thou spirit that tends on mortal thoughts,
Come lie with me under the greenwood tree
And know the heat of a luxurious bed
And in our faults by lies we’ll flatter’d be.
THE KNAVE
My Maude is now the queen of special ladies,
Attired in a robe that is mine own.
They kiss, and lay down.
MAUDE
Speak of thyself, O Geoffrey, while we sleep.
THE KNAVE
Let me present my life-time as a Knave,
Though little stands to tell; but tarry soft.
I’d tell thee how, in youth, I did author
A statement in Port Huron, ere the turn
When it emerged in compromised draft.
Or how, in fair Seattle, I and six
Were charged conspirators against the King;
Yea, that was me; and sixfold other men.
I turn’d attention briefly to the lute
And fife, and tour’d with men of speed and sound,
Who asses were; now I do nothing much,
Mayhap a bit of this, a bit of that.
I play at ninepins on the village green
And ride horseback, and think on wilder days.
My house is sack’d by Jaques Treehorn’s men
Who thought to seek thy father’s money here;
A case of great complexity we glimpse,
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski Page 5
