Ubu Plays, The (7 page)

LASKI
goes out.

SOLDIERS
and
PALCONTENTS. Long live Old Ubu, our great Financier! Ting, ting, ting; ting, ting, ting; ting, ting, tating!

PA UBU. Oh, the fine fellows, I adore them.
(A cannon-ball whizzes past and breaks the sail of the windmill.)
Hooh! Hah! I’m frightened. Great God, I’m dead! No, I’m all right after all.

[Or
substitute the following ending to Scene Three, from
Ubu sur

la Butte,
Act Two, Scene Three:

PA UBU. Let’s have lunch, then. The Russians never attack before noon. Tell the soldiers, my Lord General, to fall out for a quick piss and then strike up our anthem, the Song of Poland.

GENERAL LASKI. ‘Ten-shun! By the right! By the left! Form a circle! Two steps backward ... march! Dismiss!

THE ARMY
marches out, accompanied by flourishes of trumpets.
PA UBU
starts to sing, and
THE ARMY
marches back in time to join in the chorus at the end of the first verse.

Song of Poland

PA UBU. Let’s drain it dry, Every drop from this jug! Here’s mud in your eye, As it goes down glug-glug.

CHORUS. Glug-glug, glug-glug, glug-glug.

PA UBU. When thirst grips my throat And makes me feel grumpy, I push out the boat And get drunk as an M.P.

CHORUS. Pee-pee, pee-pee, pee-pee.

PA UBU. By my beard in full bloom, I dare any mocker To sneer at the plume Of my great Lancer’s chapka.

CHORUS. Ca-ca, ca-ca, ca-ca.

PA UBU. Bloated face, trembling hand Are the drunkard’s just due: So hurrah for Poland And good old Ubu!

CHORUS. Poo-poo, poo-poo, poo-poo.

PA UBU. Oh the fine fellows, I adore them.
(A cannon-ball whizzes past and breaks the sail of the windmill.)
Hooh! Hah! I’m frightened. Great God, I’m dead! No, I’m all right after all.]

The same. A
CAPTAIN,
then
THE RUSSIAN ARMY.

A CAPTAIN
(coming in).
Lord Ubu, Sire, the Russians are attacking.

PA UBU. Well, what do you expect me to do about it? I didn’t tell them to. Nevertheless, Gentlemen of the Phynances, let us prepare ourselves for battle.

GENERAL LASKI. Another cannon-ball!

PA UBU. Oh, I’ve had enough of this. It’s raining lead and steel around here, and our precious person might even suffer some damage. Let’s get out of here.

They all descend the slope at the double. The battle opens. They disappear in clouds of smoke at the foot of the hill.

A RUSSIAN
(striking out).
For God and the Tsar!

RENSKI. Oh, I’m done for.

PA UBU. Forward! Hey you, take that, sir, for scaring me, you drunken clot, by waving that rusty old musket at me.

THE RUSSIAN. Try this then!
(He fires his revolver at him.)

PA UBU. Ooh! ah! ouch! I’m hit, I’m holed, I’m perforated, I’ve received extreme unction, I’m buried. Oh well, not quite. Ah, I’ve got him.
(He tears him into little bits.)
There, now start something up again!

GENERAL LASKI. Forward, one last effort, men. Once across the trench and victory is ours.

PA UBU. Are you quite sure? So far, my brow is wreathed with lumps rather than laurels.

RUSSIAN CAVALRY. Hurrah! Make way for the Tsar!

THE TSAR
arrives, accompanied
by MACNURE
in disguise.

A POLE. Oh, Christ! Every man for himself, here comes the Tsar.

ANOTHER. My God, he’s over the trench!

ANOTHER. Bing! Bang! There’s four of our men annihilated by that big bugger of a lieutenant.

MACNURE. What, the rest of you haven’t had enough yet? All right then, here’s one for you, Jan Sobieski!
(He slays him.)
I’ll settle your hash, the lot of you!

He makes a bloodbath of Poles.

PA UBU. Forward, my friends. Get hold of that lousy sod! Make mincemeat of the Russians! Victory is ours. Three cheers for the Red Eagle!

ALL. Forward! Hurrah! By God’s third leg, let’s get that big bugger.

MACNURE. By St George, I’ve come a cropper.

PA UBU
(recognising him).
Ah! so it’s you, M’Nure. Well, well, well, my dear old friend! We are delighted to see you again, and so is the rest of the company. I shall roast you over a slow fire. Gentlemen of the Phynances, pray light a fire. Oh! Ah! Oh! I’m a dead man. That must have been a cannon-ball that just hit me. Dear God, I beseech you, forgive me my sins. Ouch! It was a cannon-ball, all right.

MACNURE. Ha ha! It was a cap-pistol.

PA UBU. Ah, so you’re making fun of me, are you? Well, that’s the last time! You’ve had it now.
(He throws himself on
MACNURE
and tears him to pieces.)

GENERAL LASKI. Master Ubu, we are advancing on all fronts.

PA UBU. So I see. But I’m all in, I’m dented all over with kicks, and I think I’ll sit down and take it easy. Ooh, my poor gutbag!

GENERAL LASKI. Go and puncture the Tsar’s gutbag, Pa Ubu.

PA UBU. Ha yes, that’s the ticket. Let’s get at him. Now then, pschittasword, to your duty; and you, phynance-hook, don’t lag behind. Physick-stick, go to work in eager emulation of them and share with the little wooden pick the honour of slaughtering, scooping out and stuffing the Muscovite Emperor. Forward, my noble phynance charger.
(He hurls himself upon
THE TSAR.)

A RUSSIAN OFFICER. Look out, Your Majesty!

PA UBU. Take that, you! Oo! Ow! I say, do you mind! I mean, please excuse me, Sir, leave me alone. Ouch! I didn’t do it on purpose.
(He runs away, pursued by
THE TSAR.) Holy Virgin, this lunatic’s chasing me! Dear God, what did I do? Oh, goodness, there’s still the trench to get across: I can feel his breath down my neck and the trench is looming up in front of me! Courage - eyes shut!

He jumps the trench.
THE TSAR
falls in.

THE TSAR. Now I’m in the soup!

THE POLES. Hurrah! The Tsar’s fallen in!

PA UBU. Oof! I hardly dare look back! Ha, he’s stuck in the trench, and they’re bopping him on the top. That’s it, gallant Poles, bash him hard, there’s room for plenty of whacks on his surface, the wretch. I don’t dare look at him, myself! And yet it’s all turned out as we foretold, the physick-stick has worked miracles and there’s no doubt that we would certainly have made mincemeat of him if an inexplicable terror had not suddenly arisen within us to combat and annihilate the mechanism of our bravery. But we were obliged suddenly to turn tail, and we owe our safety entirely to our skill in horsemanship and to the solid hocks of our phynance charger who is as swift as he is strong and whose agility is proverbial, and likewise to the depth of the trench which happened to lie so opportunely beneath the feet of the enemy of ourselves the aforementioned and here-present Master of Phynances. Hmm! what a pretty speech, a pity no one was listening. Right, back to business!

The
RUSSIAN DRAGOONS
charge and rescue
THE TSAR.

GENERAL LASKI. It looks like they’re routing us.

PA UBU. Aha! Then I’d better get out while the going’s good. Now then, my brave Poles, forward! I mean, backward!

THE POLES. Every man for himself!

PA UBU. Come on, let’s go! What a mob, what a rout, what a stampede! How shall I ever get out of this mess?
(He is jostled.)
Hey, you there, mind where you’re going, or you will certainly sample the fiery valour of the Master of Phynances. Ah, he’s gone. Now let’s beat a hasty retreat while Laski isn’t watching.

(He runs off.
THE TSAR and THE RUSSIAN ARMY
cross the stage in pursuit of the
POLES.)

A cave in Lithuania. It is snowing.

PA UBU,
the
PALCONTENTS, HEADS
and
TAILS.

PA UBU. What vile weather! It’s freezing hard enough to split a rock, and the person of the Master of Phynances finds itself excessively inconvenienced thereby.

HEADS. Hoy there! Mister Ubu, Sir, have you recovered from your terror and your running away?

PA UBU. Yes, I’m not frightened any more, but my guts are still running.

TAILS. Pooh! What a crappy creature!

PA UBU. You there, Mister Tails, how’s your nearole?

TAILS. As well as can be expected, Sire, considering the fact that it is not well at all. In consequench of whish, the lead inside it makes it tilt earthwards since I haven’t been able to extract the bullet.

PA UBU. How splendid! You’re like me, boy, always spoiling for a fight. As for me, I displayed the greatest valour, and without endangering myself in the least I massacred four of the enemy with my bare hands, not counting all those who were already dead when I dispatched them.

TAILS. Hey, Heads, do you have any idea what happened to little Renski ?

HEADS. He got a bullet through the head.

PA UBU. Just as the poppy and the dandelion are scythed down in the flower of their youth by the pitiless scythe of the pitiless scyther who pitilessly scythes their pitiful pans, so poor Renski has played the pretty poppy’s pitiful part - he fought gallantly, but there were just too many Russians around.

HEADS
and
TAILS
(together).
Hoy there! Mister!

AN ECHO. Hhrumph!

HEADS. What’s that noise? On guard with our pea-shooters and catapults.

PA UBU. Oh, no, damn it, not the Russians again! I’ve had enough of them! Any more nonsense from them and I’ll fuggem up good and proper.

The same. Enter
a BEAR.

TAILS. Hoy there, Mister Phynance!

PA UBU. Oh, my! Look at that little bow-wow. Isn’t it cute?

HEADS. Look out! Oh, what an enormous bear. Where’s my ammunition?

PA UBU. A bear! Arghh! what a monstrous beast. Oh, poor little me, I’m a gonner. God save me! And it’s coming for me. No, it’s got hold of Tails. Whew! that was a close shave.

The
BEAR
throws itself on
TAILS. HEADS
attacks it with a knife.
UBU
takes refuge on a rock.

TAILS. Help, Heads! Help! Come to my aid, Mister Ubu, Sir!

PA UBU. Nothing doing! Look after yourself, my friend. Just at the moment we are reciting our Pater Noster. Everyone will have his turn to get eaten.

HEADS. I’ve got it. I’ve got a half-nelson on it.

TAILS. Keep it up, pal, it’s beginning to let go of me.

PA UBU.
Sanctificetur nomen tuum.

TAILS. Cowardly sod!

HEADS. Ow! it’s biting me! Oh, Lord save us, I’m as good as dead.

PA UBU.
Fiat voluntas tua!

TAILS. Ah! I’ve managed to wound the brute.

HEADS. Hurrah! it’s bleeding.

While the
PALCONTENTS
yell and shout, the
BEAR
bellows in pain and
UBU
continues to mumble.

TAILS. Hold it tight while I go get my explosive knuckle-duster.

PA UBU.
Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie.

HEADS. Hurry up, I can’t hold out much longer.

PA UBU.
Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.

TAILS. Ah, here it is.

A tremendous explosion. The
BEAR
drops dead.

HEADS
and
TAILS. Victory.

PA UBU.
Sed libera nos a malo.
Amen. Well, is he really dead? Can I come down off my rock?

HEADS
(contemptuously).
Do whatever you like.

PA UBU (
climbing down).
You may pride yourselves that if you be still alive and still trampling underfoot the snows of Lithuania, you owe the fact entirely to the generous virtue of the Master of Phynances, who has strained his integument, acquired a slipped disc and ruptured his larynx in reciting paternosters for your salvation, and who has wielded the spiritual weapon of prayer with a courage equal to the dexterity you have shown in wielding the temporal weapon of the here-present Palcontent Tails’ explosive knuckle-duster. We carried our own devotion even further, in that we did not hesitate to climb to the top of a very high rock so that our prayers should have less far to travel to mount to heaven.

HEADS. Lousy swine!

PA UBU. My, what a fat animal. Thanks to me, you’ve got something to eat. What a belly, gentlemen! The Greeks would have found it more comfortable in there than in their wooden horse, and we were very near, dear friends, to being able to verify with our own eyes its interior capacity.

HEADS. I’m dying of hunger. What’s there to eat?

TAILS. The bear!

PA UBU. My poor friends, are you going to eat it raw? We don’t have anything to start a fire with.

HEADS. We’ve got our gun-flints, haven’t we?

PA UBU. Ah yes, that’s true. And besides, I think I can see just over there a small copse where we should be able to find some dry branches. Go and fetch some, Mister Tails, Sire.

TAILS
trudges off across the snow.

HEADS. And now, Mister Ubu, Sire, go ahead and carve up the bear.

PA UBU. Oh, no! The creature may not be quite dead yet. In any case, since you’re already half eaten yourself and bitten all over, you’re just the man for that job. I shall light a fire while waiting for the other knave to bring the wood.

HEADS
starts carving up the
BEAR.

PA UBU. Oo, look out! I distinctly saw it move.

HEADS. But, Mister Ubu, Sire, it’s already cold.

PA UBU. Oh, that’s a pity, it would have been nicer to eat it while still warm. This is bound to give the Master of Phynances an attack of indigestion.

HEADS
(aside).
He really is repulsive.
(Aloud.)
Give us a hand, Mister Ubu, I can’t do the whole job myself.

PA UBU. No, I have no intention of lifting a finger. I happen to be very tired.

TAILS
(coming back).
What snow, my friends, anyone would think we were in cold Castille or the North Pole. Night is beginning to fall. In an hour it will be dark. Let’s hurry up while there’s still some light.