Sympathy for the Devil

by Tim Pratt

  Bateman:--the thighs, the buttocks, the girls--

  Albergus:--it's a total sensory experience--

  Bateman: I'll say.

  Albergus:--and there is no way that ordinary language can capture even one thousandth of it.

  Bateman: Preach it, brother!

  Albergus:--But that's ordinary language. What about extraordinary language? What about the language of God, Bateman? In what language did God originally say, "Let There Be Light!"

  Bateman: French?

  Albergus: He said it, Bateman, in that mystic, UrCreative language, the language of ultimate truth. The language that came before reality. If a man could grasp that grammar of creation, he could control all that exists! And that language, Bateman, I am convinced, is written in Faustus's book. Can you imagine it? Faustus has his hand upon the axis of the universe! Yet to what use does he put this power?

  Bateman: Well he turned that guy into a clock. And there's those cigar things?

  Albergus: Precisely. A total waste. The man has no more business owning that book than a rabbit.

  Bateman: I don't think he owns a rabbit.

  Albergus: That book belongs to he who can make use of it.

  Bateman: Uh, speaking of grammar, I think that's supposed to be "to him," boss?

  Albergus: To me, Bateman. And I aim to get it. Think of the things I might accomplish--strictly for the good of mankind, Bateman, the good of mankind!

  ALBERGUS'S SONG:

  Power!

  I want power!

  Enough power to allow

  My unique know how to flower.

  The world around is aching

  For a wise hand to administer a braking

  To this runaway cart

  The ungovernable heart.

  And I can do it.

  Why cast my pearls before swine

  Why waste my life drinking cheap wine

  When I might have champagne

  Which, given my intellect,

  I deserve

  Most royally.

  Truth!

  Is all I pursue, forsooth!

  Not like Faustus, that uncouth pretender.

  I must water the tender

  Bud of my curiosity

  So that my incipient virtuosity

  Might grow into a prowess so vital

  That it will delight all

  And a vision acute

  To boot.

  Knowledge!

  I need knowledge

  Not for my own aggrandizement,

  But for the advisement, see,

  Of those rulers who so ignorantly

  Mistake the proper course

  Of action. I'll be the source

  Of expedient counsel

  A man like me, responsible,

  Will make them realize

  That to do otherwise than I suggest

  Would not be best

  For the health of the common folk

  Or their own.

  Bateman: Love!

  Liebschaft!

  Amour!

  Is what I suggest you initially explore.

  I'll help you out, select moral subjects

  For your experiments

  In passion philters

  Affection smelters

  And aphrodisiac science.

  Don't risk your priceless mind:

  I'll selflessly bind myself through rigorous paces

  Endure numerous embraces

  Test my tender body against feminine wiles

  Quaff wild potions out of wilder vials

  In Aphrodite's clinical trials.

  This barmaid, here, for instance

  Could no doubt benefit

  From our ministrations

  Don't you think?

  Boss?

  Albergus: No greed

  Or seed

  Of self-concern will tarnish my discerning need

  To do what must be done

  I'll take no bad advice

  Or advice at all, indeed.

  For it would not be nice

  To be swayed

  By the paltry parade

  Of unenlightended folk who'll seek for my largess

  My relief from their distress

  The gratitude's store

  Which I shall dispense

  Selflessly, more

  Or less.

  You see, Bateman? That man is an imposter; I shall be the true Faustus! But now, how to break in to his study? Who knows what risks that would entail?

  Wagner enters, looks around, goes to him.

  Wagner: Pardon me, sir. I am looking for my fellow students, Robin and Dicolini. Have you seen them?

  Albergus: Not since they fled your master's lecture.

  Wagner: I've exhausted myself searching. I thought they were my friends, but it seems they are more interested in other matters now.

  Albergus: A sad breach of faith. Is there anything a fellow scholar can do?

  Wagner: Nothing. Unless you can retrieve the imp that Robin called up.

  Albergus: I am not without some magical prowess. Perhaps I can locate it. Not only that, but if you'll tell me when Faustus is away, I can deposit the creature--caged--in his rooms. It would make a good joke, don't you think? Especially after the shameful way he treated you today.

  Wagner: If you could do that, my gratitude would surpass Goneril's to her father!

  Albergus: You have only to ask.

  Wagner: Yes, good Frater, please. Faustus told me he would not be home until midnight tonight. If you can arrive before then--

  Albergus: I shall be there at ten.

  Wagner: Uh--better make it eleven. Eleven-thirty--I have affairs--uh--business. I will let you in.

  Albergus: Leave it to me. I will be discreet.

  Wagner: Thank you, thank you.

  Wagner pumps Albergus's hand vigorously and leaves, as excited as a groom on his wedding day.

  Albergus: So, we have our entry into Faustus's rooms! Once there, I will discover the satanist's iniquities. Bateman, you must go to the Bishop of Wittenberg and tell him at once to assemble an ecclesiastical tribunal. We will arrest Faustus by the dawn, have him convicted by noon and roasting at the stake by vespers. And for good measure, we'll roast this slack fool Wagner along with him.

  But wait! I must not be compromised by being associated with the disappearance of Faustus's magic book. (snaps fingers) Aha! A disguise! (writes a hurried note) Bateman, after you speak to the bishop I want you to fetch me the following items.

  Albergus hands Bateman the note and the latter exits. Albergus sips his tankard of ale, throws a couple of coins onto the table, then departs himself. As soon as he does Robin and Dicolini crawl out from beneath the table. Dicolini drains the remainder of Albergus's ale in a gulp. Robin picks up one of the coins and bites through it. He chews thoughtfully, pulls a salt shaker from his robe, sprinkles the remainder on the coin and pops it into his mouth.

  Dicolini: You hear that, Robbie? That Icebergus, hesa cross-double us. Hesa break the case himself and keep alla pieces. We gonna have to get tough.

  Robin thrusts a fist under Dicolini's nose, grimacing and breathing heavily; his other arm goes into a windmill windup. Dicolini kicks him in the butt.

  Dicolini: Whatsa matter for you! Getta tough with him, not me. Now listen, we gotta move fast and get to Faustus's place before the boss, before Wagner, before anybody. We get there so early we be there before we arrive!

  Robin honks. They exit. Wagner returns carrying a bundle of clothes. He addresses the barmaid.

  Wagner: Have you a bath here

  Barmaid: No, sir. In the summer, some guests use the rain barrel in the lower court. But of course it is frozen...

  Wagner: Perfect. I want you to chop a hole in the ice for me. I need to keep cool.

  Barmaid: You must be very hot.

  Wagner (beginning to unlace his boots): You cannot imagine.

  Barmaid: What clothing is that?

  Wagner: You know Doctor Faustus? We
ll, a certain young woman I know is expecting to see him tonight. Imagine her surprise when she finds me in his place!

  Scene Six

  Upstage left, lights come up on alley behind Faustus's study. Dicolini and Robin wheel a wooden cart or barrow full of paraphernalia up below Faustus's second-floor bedroom window. Dicolini throws a rope over a rafter protruding out below the eaves, then ties one end around his chest.

  Clock (from above): ELEVEN O'CLOCK. IT'S COLDER THAN A WITCH'S BICYCLE SEAT OUT THERE.

  Dicolini: Okay, Robbie. You tug onna rope, and I'll get in through Faustus's window. Keep a look out. If anybody comes, whistle.

  Robin nods, spits into his palms, leaps high into the air and grabs the rope. The rope hauls Dicolini two feet above the ground, and Robin hands two feet above the ground on the opposite end; they struggle and flop together like hooked fish. Lights go down halfway, leaving them in stage left, and come up upstage right on the entrance to Faustus's apartments, where the porter, Martin, sits on a stool against the wall snoring, drunk as usual. Wagner comes up, sees Martin, then puts on a Faustus costume: black academic gown, mortarboard hat, greasepaint mustache, wire rimmed spectacles. He then strides up to Martin, who wakes woozily as Wagner salutes him and goes inside.

  Lights go down upstage, come up downstage to reveal the inside of Fausuts's apartment. Wagner enters through common room door, then hurries to the bedroom and the wardrobe. He opens the door and stands on the threshhold.

  Wagner: Helen!

  Helen: Darling!

  Wagner is overwhelmed by her ardor, even perhaps a little scared.

  Wagner: Don't worry--it's me, Wagner! You can come out of the closet, now.

  Helen: Oh!

  Wagner: What's wrong?

  Helen: I thought you were Faustus. I forgot to tell you that I can't come out until he says I can. After all, I am his to command. Won't you come in?

  Wagner: But--

  Clock: ELEVEN FIFTEEN. I WONDER HOW THE METS ARE DOING?

  A sound from the commons room. It's Faustus, who has come from his study toward the bedroom, followed by Mephistopheles. Wagner climbs into the closet just as Faustus and the demon enter.

  Faustus: I wish you'd stop following me around. I want to get ready for bed.

  Mephisto: You shall not sleep this night, Faustus.

  Faustus: I certainly won't if you keep pestering me. Go away.

  Mephistopheles disappears in a cloud of sulfurous smoke and flame. Faustus goes to the closet.

  Faustus: Now where's my nightshirt? I thought I left it lying around here. (To Helen) Are you still in there?

  Helen: Who?

  Faustus: Unless you're keeping an owl, Helen of Troy.

  Wagner nudges Helen frantically. She gets flustered.

  Helen: What owl? There's no owl in here.

  Faustus: Owl take your word for it. Does one of you birds want to hand me my nightshirt?

  Wagner fumbles among the clothes, gives Helena nightshirt. She opens the door a crack and hands it out. Faustus peeks in.

  Faustus: Hope it's not too boring in there.

  Helen: Not yet. I wouldn't mind some fresh air once in a while.

  Faustus (sniffs): The air in there smells pretty fresh already. Or maybe it's my undershirt. (Hauls out tarot deck) Would you like to take a card?

  Helen: No, thank you.

  Faustus closes the door, takes the nightshirt and leaves. The rathaus clock strikes and Wagner jumps.

  Wagner: You said Faustus would be out tonight!

  Helen: Did I?

  Helen embraces Wagner. He forgets his annoyance and begins to nuzzle her. They fumble around in the cramped closet, and Helen finally pushes him away.

  Wagner: Noble queen?

  Helen: I'm sorry, but I can't get into the mood lying on old shoes. Can't you find some way to let me out?

  Wagner: Wait here. Faustus's magic book must be around somewhere. I'll find a spell of unbinding.

  Wagner leaves the closet and sneaks out of the bedroom toward Faustus's study. The lights fade downstage and come up upstage right on the entrance to the building, where Martin still sits. Albergus enters in a blizzard of impatience. He dons a Faustus disguise of robe, greasepaint mustache, spectacles and mortarboard and approaches Martin. Martin gives a woozy double take as Albergus enters.

  Lights go down upstage right, come up downstage on Faustus's apartment. Wagner has gone into Faustus's study. Albergus enters the common room, considers the study but goes into the bedroom. He rifles through the bedside table, the trunk at the end of the bed. It's full of clothes, including a nightshirt or two that he throws onto the bed. He tries the closet door. As soon as he opens it Helen throws her arms around him.

  Helen: Darling! Let me out of the closet! Then will I fulfill your every desire.

  Albergus (stumbling back, hauling out across): Back, hell-fiend!

  He slams the closet door on Helen. He wipes his brow, shaken. Just then there is a rattling from the window. Albergus hurries from the room. The window opens, and Dicolini climbs in, unties the rope. He peeks out the bedroom door, then hesitates. He ponders, sees the nightshirt on the bed, snaps his fingers. He takes off his boots, rolls up his pants, dons the nightshirt and a stocking cap. From the bedside table he takes some makeup and smears a greasepaint mustache over his lip, puts on some spare spectacles. Just as he's about to leave the room he hears a voice.

  Helen: Is that you?

  Dicolini: Maybe.

  Helen: Please let me out of here.

  Dicolini: Who are you?

  Helen: Don't be silly. You know who I am.

  Dicolini: Itsa slip my mind.

  Helen (sarcastically): Well, I'm the most beautiful woman in history.

  Dicolini: Never mind coming out. I come in.

  Dicolini opens the closet door. Helen throws her arms around his neck.

  Helen: Darling!

  Lights fade on the bedroom, come up on the study. Wagner is frantically searching through the papers on Faustus's desk. He finds an impressive contract, Faustus's deal with the devil. He tries to puzzle it out, reading aloud.

  Wagner: ... party of the first part shall be called the party of the first part... contractee reserves the right to a speedy conviction, the right to a free lunch, the right to sing the blues, the right... in the event of a change of political party, the once in a blue moon, when hell freezes over, if the pope is Catholic, and bears sit in the woods... rights to knowledge including but not confined to THE MEANING OF LIFE and any related subsidiary meanings, notions, ideas, quips, lemmas and passing fancies...

  Clock: ELEVEN THIRTY. IT'S LATER THAN YOU THINK.

  Albergus, in common room, and Wagner in the study both jump. The door to the hall opens and Faustus re-enters; Albergus immediately enters the study. When the study door opens Wagner stuffs the contract into his shirt and dashes under the desk. Albergus comes to the desk, rifles through the papers, finds nothing and goes to the ranks of bookshelves toward the back of the study.

  In the bedroom, Dicolini and Helen are doing a combination wrestling match and waltz as he tries to maneuver her toward the bed. She begins to realize that this is not Faustus, and resists.

  In the common room, Faustus is searching through shelves and cabinets looking for something. Finally he gives up.

  Faustus (to clock): Have you seen my cigars anywhere?

  Clock: What, am I the maid, too?

  In the study Wagner is about to sneak out from beneath the desk when Faustus gives up on the commons and enters the study. Wagner dashes back under the desk. Albergus watches warily from behind a bookshelf. In the bedroom Dicolini is pressing Helen toward the bed.

  Dicolini: Bella felissima ronzoni, allapacino.

  Helen: My lord, you know I don't understand Latin.

  Dicolini: Atsa not Latin, atsa Italian.

  Helen: I don't understand Italian, either.

  Dicolini: Atsa okay. Neither do I.

  Lights down in bedroom, up on alley
upstage left. Robin is freezing. He tears a picture of a fire from a book and pins it to the cart, trying to warm his hands before it. He stomps around, flapping his arms. The imp, in his cloak, awakes, pops out, leaps onto the rope and scrambles up through the window. Robin runs around frantically. He stops, snaps his fingers. He rummages through the cart, gets out a nightshirt, glasses, nightcap. He smears black grease from the cart axle under his nose as a mustache. Thus dressed he goes upstage right to where Martin keeps the entrance. Martin gives a double-take, Robin enters.

  Lights go down on exterior and up on interior. Robin rushes in through the common room door and races to the bedroom. Inside he skids to a stop when he sees Dicolini and Helen on the bed. Helen has the upper hand. She's got her foot on his neck and is about to bash him with the chamber pot. Dicolini sees Robin.

  Dicolini: Faustus!

  Robin looks over his shoulder. Helen releases Dicolini, who runs from the room. She smiles tentatively at Robin. Robin smiles back. She throws her arms around his neck.

  Helen: Darling!

  Robin leaps atop her, horn honking.

  In the commons, Dicolini is heading toward the door when Mephistopheles materializes in light and smoke directly in front of him. They collide and sprawl across the dining table, scattering crockery and candlesticks.

  Mephisto: You time is nigh, mortal. You will pay dearly for your sins.

  Dicolini: I never touched her, boss. Shesa better man than I am.

  Mephisto: You insist on playing the fool, even now?

  Dicolini: No. Hesa still down inna alley.

  Mephistopheles, furious, stomps into the bedroom to talk to Helen. He finds her with Robin on the bed. Once again she has the upper hand, stomping on his horn, which honks. Robin looks up to see Mephisto's glowing eyes. He leaps from the bed and hides in the closet.

  Mephisto: It will avail Faustus nothing to hide.

  Helen: I don't think that's Faustus.

  Mephisto: Who is it, then?

  Helen: I don't know, but I've seen a lot of him lately.

  Mephisto: Don't tell me you've succumbed to Faustus. Are you doing his bidding?

  Helen: You find him and I'll try.

  Mephisto: Where is he?

  Helen: Hang around a while. He'll turn up. Or else somebody just as good.