by Tony Kushner
DR. DOGWATER
(Still flat out, in pain) Was that ruh-really necessary?
(Maccabbee sneaks out of the bed and exits. Schadenfreude enters. Schadenfreude watches Babbo, who is sneaking out of bed. She exits as Dogwater, unseeing, from the floor, says:)
DR. DOGWATER
(Rising, wincing in pain, not seeing yet that the Abbess is gone) You wuh-wrenched my back!
(Dogwater limps to the family Bible to check on his Will.)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
(Gleeful) Searching for lost souls, perhaps?
(Dogwater turns, startled.)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
Find the Will yet?
DR. DOGWATER
That duh-doesn’t concern you.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
It does. I want to be Sir Thomas’s eulogist. It’s only fitting: we were both men of science, I stewarded him through his final illness and did it well, regardless of your low opinion of my procedures. It means a lot to me.
DR. DOGWATER
I have a nagging suspicion you aren’t muh-motivated exclusively by fah-fah-fraternal affections.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
His Majesty the King will be in attendance at the funeral.
DR. DOGWATER
I nuh-know. What can that puh-possibly mean to you?
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
The office of Court Physician, I hear, is open.
DR. DOGWATER
I duh-doubt that they’ll want the position fuh-filled by a juh-German. No offense.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
(Smiling, happy) None taken. I have a letter of recommendation to the king from his cousin the elector of Hanover.
DR. DOGWATER
Then why don’t you just guh-go to Luh-London with your letter? What are you duh-doing here?
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
I arrived in London in 1649, precisely on the day of Charles the First’s decapitation. A king without a head . . .
DR. DOGWATER
Duh-doesn’t need a doctor.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
(Amused) JA! I settled here, in Norfolk, where I could be inconspicuous.
(Dogwater gives him a look.)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
And now with the crown secure on the royal head and the royal head secure on the rest of the royal body my desire to serve His Majesty prompts me forward. What better way to make an impression than with a gripping eulogy for a highly esteemed artist and monarchist? It’s the least I’m owed for my services.
DR. DOGWATER
Dr. Schadenfreude, I am the puh-prelate for this parish, and huh-highly trained, and I will give the eulogy. You’ll have to look elsewhere for a ruh-rostrum for your tuh-tuh-tawdry political mah-mah-machinations.
(Schadenfreude pulls off a glove and slaps Dogwater!)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
(Echt Prussian!) Dogwater, I challenge you to a duel.
DR. DOGWATER
A duel? You expect a man of God to fuh-fight a duel?
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
(Wielding his walking stick like a fencing foil) JA! Of words! Your eulogy against mine! Let each applicant for the position commit his text to memory! And then let Browne decide!
(Dogwater shakes the end of the walking stick, which has been pointed at his chest, in grim agreement.
The Washer enters, carrying Browne wrapped in a blanket.)
DR. DOGWATER
Huh-he’s buh-back.
(She places him in the bed.)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
Did he enjoy his bath? Or did it kill him?
THE WASHER/DOÑA ESTRELITA
Bin livet still, but bin verra close to da end.
DR. DOGWATER
Buh-Browne? Can you hear me? The Will, Browne, the Wuh-Will!
DR. BROWNE
(Deep in a blissful, sexy dream) . . . in tunnels underneath . . .
DR. DOGWATER
Tuh-tunnels?
DR. BROWNE
. . . buried deep . . .
DR. DOGWATER
The Will? You buh-buried the Will?
DR. BROWNE
Yes. By the river. Deep.
DR. DOGWATER
He buh-buried it! By the rah-river! Oh God, I am beset from all suh-sides. Where can I get a shovel?
(He rushes out.)
DR. BROWNE
(Luscious, sensual, happy) Tunnels by the river. Large, black velvet, muscular moles. With formidable claws and paddle paws and tough little cartilage-blunt stubbins for noses, blind blind blind blind blind . . . Estrelita?
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
Estrelita?
DR. BROWNE
Doña Estrelita . . .
(He sinks entirely into sleep.)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
Who is Doña Estrelita, Browne?
(Doña Estrelita sheds her disguise; under her weaver rags and mask she is a spectacular Spanish noblewoman, dressed to the nines.)
DOÑA ESTRELITA
I am.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
And who are you? Really?
DOÑA ESTRELITA
Doña Estrelita Maria Luz Angelica Brava y Gambon. The wife of the Spanish ambassador to the court of Charles II.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
You’re the wife of the Sp . . . and this washing business, something you do for a lark?
DOÑA ESTRELITA
A small deception to gain access.
Decades ago I loved this man. No one knows how much.
I’ve come to help him die. And take him home, to Spain, with me.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
To Spain?
DOÑA ESTRELITA
I can’t bear the thought of him resting in this swampsoil, dissolving. Years ago I gave him up to the suction of this marshy island. In death, at last, I will have him with me, in the crucible land, the desert land of sand and dry ash, in Spain.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
I’m flattered that you chose to reveal yourself to me, great lady.
DOÑA ESTRELITA
Fellow foreigner.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
I am a student of the world’s variety and I have observed . . . There are many kinds of lovers. Some sunlit and happy. Some moonstruck and griefstricken.
DOÑA ESTRELITA
And some driven by curious passions, pallid, silent, drawn to the dark.
(They stare at each other with an icy fervor.)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
We are, I suspect, kindred spirits, Doña.
DOÑA ESTRELITA
You are from the cold north, Doctor. I am from the hot south. It’s the people in the middle I don’t trust.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
And how, most charming lady, do you plan to accomplish this crypt robbing? You won’t get him out the front door.
DOÑA ESTRELITA
(Hearing a noise) Someone’s coming! My disguise!
(Maccabbee enters, carrying a huge urn. Estrelita hides in the curtains.)
MACCABBEE
Da urn arrivet. Bin dead?
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
What have we here?
(Schadenfreude examines the urn, Maccabbee goes to the bed. His Soul appears.)
HIS SOUL
You have to do it soon! I’ve become so thick!
MACCABBEE
My nose, remembah!
HIS SOUL
SOON!
MACCABBEE
(Searching the bedclothes) You seen dat chicken, Doctah Schadenfreude?
(His Soul reaches behind the headboard and throws Maccabbee the chicken, swollen even larger than at the top of the scene. His Soul sinks from view.)
MACCABBEE
Here ’tis. Gawd, I gotta weigh dis bird again. It bin positively collostal.
(He goes with the chicken.)
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
He’s gone.
Doña Estrelita, he’s gone.
Dona Estrelita?
(She crawls out.)
DOÑA ESTRELITA
(Delighted) There’s a body under this bed.
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
(Looking) A spare! Redolent of Barbados rum!
DOÑA ESTRELITA
Is there a large oven in the house?
DR. SCHADENFREUDE
In the kitchen.
DOÑA ESTRELITA
I want to have a look. I gotta plan.
(They exit.
Death enters, eating a tart. He bites down on something unexpected and removes from the tart Dr. Browne’s Will. Placing the tart on Browne’s bed, Death opens it, reads and chuckles.)
DEATH
(Striking a pose for declaming poetry, one foot forward, one hand behind his back:)
Unsound, thy body;
unstrung, thy mind,
and yet thou leave’st thy Will behind.
(He pockets the Will. He raises his knife, walks toward Browne, ready to kill, then stops, uncertain. Sarah enters.)
DEATH
I’m very . . . unhappy.
SARAH
Hoosh, babbie, I knowet.
DEATH
It’s like sharp nettles. I frighten him. He doesn’t love me. I want his love. I want to rip his heart out and eat it. (He raises his knife to strike)
SARAH
Soon, babbie, soon . . . I gotta little do ta do, firstet.
(Death moves a step or two toward Sarah. She is very frightened of him, but holds her ground.)
DEATH
It’s the appetite that never dies. The body dies. The mind dies. The heart stops beating. EVERYTHING DROPS AWAY! But this sharp painful hunger lingers on.
SARAH
Dancet wif me, babbie. It taket yer mind off da ache.
(Death approaches her, she backs away at first, involuntarily recoiling from him. Then she takes his proffered hand. They dance slowly as His Soul sings.)
HIS SOUL
(Singing:)
The lamb of God is bleating,
Heaven help the stupid thing!
For the daylight is retreating
And the owl is on the wing.
On the wing the hungry owl;
There is murder on the wind;
And the wolf is on the prowl;
And a scent is in the air . . .
A bloody teardrop rolling
From its gold reproachful eye:
Thou hast I think forsook thy lamb
And no more hear its cry:
Crying pity and despair;
For a scent is in the air;
And there’s murder in the wind;
And the wolf is on the prowl;
Oh forgive me, I have sinned;
On the wing, the hungry owl . . .
(The other ranters enter. Death bows, Sarah curtsies. He kisses her hand and leaves. As the song concludes the ranters surround Browne’s bed.)
HIS SOUL
Ah, faith.
It is amazing.
And the night is dark and chill,
And the little lamb is grazing
On a clover-covered hill.
And the stars are blotted out
By the cold and distant moon
And the night grows darker still;
Pray for daybreak.
Make it soon.
(Intermission.)
Act Four
WHO SEES GOD’S FACE, THAT IS SELF LIFE, MUST DIE
Fiery Apocalyptic Sunset, Early Evening
Browne is alone, sleeping on his bed. The ranters surround him, watching.
Sarah makes a gesture and the lights in the room dim and change.
SARAH
Dere bin always a time a reckoning, Browne, a counting a da stores ’n’ a parceling out, ’n’ dat time come fer you at last.
’Tis now fer da rant ’n’ da curset, fellow creatures. Helpet ’n’ make dis loafa bad bread ready fer da doings, whilst I preparet myself.
(Sarah undresses. Mary and Ruth undress Browne and hoist him, unconscious, to his feet. Browne and Sarah stand nude together.)
RUTH
(Looking at them naked) Gawd bless my peeps, ’tis religious art! Hadam ’n’ Heve inna Garden a Heden!
MARY
What happent to da snaket?
SARAH
Da serpent hiss ’n’ slitheret, ’n’ tell lies, ’n’ wigglet ’n’ flap, ’n’ lead all astray.
(She pries open Browne’s mouth and grabs his tongue.)
SARAH
Here bin da serpent tempter, ’n’ now dis picture bin completet.’Tis time. Ruth. Commencet da rant.
RUTH
(A prayer) Dere han’t much comfort here tonight, but han’t ever been much a dat anywhere, since da world inceptet. What comfort, fellow creatures, they give to da dying Christ? Vinegar sponges ’n’ spears.
(There’s a delicate penny whistle, unseen, playing a sweet air. All three ranters look up, look at one another, smile. Sarah nods and Ruth looks at Mary. They breathe in unison, loud, twice. Mary has a drum, and she strikes two strong beats. Ruth begins. As the rant builds in intensity, the three women begin to dance, pulling powerful forces from the earth and raising them into the air. Lights and strange sounds, drums, voices, singing, the quarry engine. Magic is being done.)
RUTH
I gotta dig,
Gotta dig to da place,
Gotta sink to da place,
To da place a da pain,
To da place a da plain
To da plain a da bone,
To da mouf a complaint,
To da voicet screamet,
To da tongue, to da place,
To da verra verra place,
To da rivah say
NO!
To dis weepet,
Say NO!
To dis sorra,
Say
GAWD, OH GAWD, OH YISROEL ’N’ JUDAH!
To da pain ’n’ da grief
To da poor da believers
Bya sweat a da Lord
By da calloused hands a Christ
By da breath, by da blood,
By da bloody tears a Christ
By da wrinkled hands a Mary
’N’ da stripet socks a Joseph
’N’ DA GLORY HALLEJULAH
’N’ DA ANGELS ALLA BLUE!
Like flies dey buzzet
Like da buzzet a da flies
Like da lamb
Like da ram
Like da bitter bite a wine
Like da blood inna mouth
Like da bush inna fire
’N’ da curse
’N’ da curse
’N’ da curse
’N’ da curse
MARY
(Overlaps starting with Ruth’s “ANGELS ALLA BLUE” above:)
’N’ da earf gonna freezet
’N’ da earf gonna crack
’N’ da earf go all blacket
’N’ da earf
’N’ da earf
’N’ da watahs a da ocean
’N’ da boiling a da sea
’N’ da curse, ’n’ da hand
’N’ da curse, ’n’ da dreadet . . .
(Sarah has now mounted Browne, riding piggyback, triumphant, as Ruth leads him in a small circle.)
MARY
’N’ DERE GO DA CALLET GLORY!
’N’ DERE GO DA CALLET SELAH!
’N’ DERE GO DA DEVIL ARMET!
’N’ DERE GO DA PITCH ’N’ THUNDAH!
’N’ da curse bin come
’N’ dah curse bin come . . .
(From Browne’s mouth a wild animal bray—one long raw note. Suddenly from the air above, mighty trumpets play the notes of the Dies Irae, E Flat, D, E Flat, C, D, B Flat, C, C. All the other noise ceases, Browne slumps to the floor, and the ranters look toward the sound, awestruck. They have ranted many times, and have made magic before, but this is different . . .)