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King Ubu (Ubu Roi)
by Alfred Jarry Translated from
French to English by Patrick
Whittaker. Introduction Ubu Roi by Alfred Jarry is an acknowledged masterpiece of
absurdist theatre. It is one of the precursors of
Dadaism and – by extension – surrealism. Some years
back, I got it into my head that I’d quite like to read
this play of which I’d heard so much. Unfortunately,
the original was written in French and – try as I might
– I could not find an English translation anywhere. Not
on the Inernet and not in the real world. So, being a bit
of an obsessive twat, I spent a week feverishly
teaching myself French. Then I got a hold of Ubu Roi in French
and translated it into English. This is the
result. I have been
careful not to embellish the text or to stamp my own
signature on it. If at times the dialogue seems clumsy,
that is how it should be. These characters,
after all, are mostly speaking a language foreign to
them. Consider this a
vanilla version of the text. If you want to add your own
flavour to it, I have no objection. - Patrick
Whittaker Characters MAMA UBU. BORDURE. WENCESLAS. ROSEMONDE. BOLESAS,
LADISLAS, BOUGRELAS: THEIR SONS. THE GHOSTS OF
THEIR ANCESTORS. GENERAL LASCY. STANISLAS
LECZINSKI. JEAN SOBIESKI. NICOLAS RENSKY.
THE EMPEROR
ALEXIS. LAP, BATTERY,
COTICE: PALADINS. CONSPIRATORS AND
SOLDIERS. PEPPLE. MICHEL
FÉDÉROVITCH. NOBLES. MAGISTRATES. COUNCILLORS. FINANCIERS. LACKEYS OF
PHYNANCES. PEASANTS. THE WHOLE
RUSSIAN ARMY. THE WHOLE
POLISH ARMY. THE GUARDS OF
MAMA UBU. A CAPTAIN. THE BEAR. THE HORSE OF
PHYNANCES. THE CREW. THE
SEA-CAPTAIN. Act 1 Scene I Poland – that
is to say nowhere. Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu. PAPA UBU. Pshite! MAMA UBU. Oh!
that’s a fine thing. What a pig you are, Papa Ubu! PAPA UBU. Watch
out I don’t kill you, Mama Ubu! MAMA UBU. It
isn’t me you ought to kill, Papa Ubu, it’s someone
else. PAPA UBU. Now
by my green candle, I don’t understand. MAMA UBU. What!
Papa Ubu, you’re content with your lot? PAPA UBU. Now
by my green candle, pshite. Madam, certainly yes,
I’m content. I could be content with less. After all, I’m
Captain of Dragoons, Privy Councillor to King Wenceslas,
Knight of the Red Eagle of Poland, and formerly
King of Aragon. What more do you want? MAMA UBU. What!
After being King of Aragon, you’re content
with reviewing fifty flunkies armed with
cabbage-cutters, when you could put the crown of Poland on your
head where the crown of Aragon used to be? PAPA UBU. Ah,
Mama Ubu, I don’t understand a word you’re
saying. MAMA UBU. You
are so stupid. PAPA UBU. Now
by my green candle, King Wenceslas is
very much alive. And suppose he snuffs it – hasn’t he
got legions of children? MAMA UBU. What
prevents you from slaughtering the whole family
and putting yourself in their place? PAPA UBU. Ah!
Mama Ubu, you do me wrong. Watch out you
don’t end up in the soup. MAMA UBU. Poor
unfortunate, when I’m in the soup who’ll patch
the seat of your pants? PAPA UBU. Who
cares? Isn’t my arse just like everybody
else’s? MAMA UBU. If I
were in your place, I’d want to plant that arse on a throne. You could make lots of money, and eat all the
sausages you want, and roll through the streets in a
carriage. PAPA UBU. If I
were King, I’d wear a big wide- brimmed hat,
the kind I had in Aragon, the one those Spanish rogues
stole from me. MAMA UBU. You
could also obtain an umbrella and a big cape that
would fall to your heels. PAPA UBU. Ah! I
yield to temptation. Buggery pshite, pshitey buggery! If I ever run into him in a
corner of the woods,
he’ll pass a bad quarter of an hour! MAMA UBU. Ah!
well, Papa Ubu, now you’re acting like a real
man. PAPA UBU. No,
no! Me – Captain of Dragoons – slaughter the King
of Poland? I’d sooner die! MAMA UBU
(aside). Oh, pshite! – (Aloud.) Would you rather
remain as beggarly as a rat, Papa Ubu? PAPA UBU. Bluebelly! by my green candle, I’d rather be poor a
beggar like a skinny and brave rat than rich like a mean and
fat cat. MAMA UBU. And
the broad-brimmed hat? And the umbrella? And
the big cape? PAPA UBU. And
then what, Mama Ubu? He leaves,
banging the door. MAMA UBU
(alone). Vrout, pshite!
He’s slow to understand, but
vrout, pshite! I believe
he’s been shaken. Thanks
to God and myself, in eight days I may be Queen of
Poland. Scene II The stage
represents a room in the house of Papa Ubu where a
splendid table has been set. Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu. MAMA UBU. Hey!
Our guests are bloody late. PAPA UBU. Yes,
by my green candle. I’m bursting with hunger.
Mama Ubu, you’re very ugly today. Is that because we
have guests? MAMA UBU
(shrugging her shoulders). Pshite! PAPA UBU
(grabbing a roast chicken). Hey, I’m hungry. I’m
going to bite into this bird. I believe it is a chicken. It is
not bad. MAMA UBU. What,
you wretch, are you doing? What will our guests
eat? PAPA UBU. They
will still have plenty. I won’t take any more. Mama Ubu, go look out the window and see if our guests
are arriving. MAMA UBU.
(going to the window). I don’t see anyone. Meanwhile Papu Ubu steals some veal. MAMA UBU. Ah!
There’s Captain Bordure arriving with his men.
What are you eating now, Papa Ubu? PAPA UBU.
Nothing, a little veal. MAMA UBU. Ah!
veal! veal! veal! He ate the veal! Help! PAPA UBU. Now
by my green candle, I’m going to pull your eyes
out. The door opens.
Scene III Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu, Captain Bordure
and his men. MAMA UBU. Good
day, gentlemen, we’ve been waiting for you
impatiently. Sit yourselves down. BORDURE. Good
day, Madam. But where is Papa Ubu? PAPA UBU. Here
I am! Here I am, damn it! By my green candle,
I’m certainly fat enough. BORDURE. Hello,
Papa Ubu. Be seated, men. They all sit. PAPA UBU. Ouf! A few more pounds and I’d go through the
chair. BORDURE. Well,
Mama Ubu, what are you giving us that’s good
today? MAMA UBU.
Here’s the menu. PAPA UBU. Oh,
this interests me. MAMA UBU.
Polish soup, cutlets of rastron, veal, chicken, pate
of dog, rump of turkey, charlotte russe… PAPA UBU. Hey,
there’s enough, I suppose. Is there more? MAMA UBU
(continuing). Sherbet, salad, fruits, dessert, boiled
beef, Jerusalem artichokes, cauliflower a la pshite. PAPA UBU. Hey!
Do you think I’m an oriental Emperor that
you should spend so much? MAMA UBU. Don’t
listen to him, he’s an imbecile. PAPA UBU. Ah!
I’m going to sharpen my teeth against your
calves. MAMA UBU. Eat
your dinner instead, Papa Ubu. Here’s some
Polish soup. PAPA UBU.
Bugger! That’s bad! BORDURE. It’s
certainly not good. MAMA UBU. You
heap of savages, what do you want? PAPA UBU
(striking himself on the forehead). Oh! I have an idea.
I’ll be back in a little while. He goes out. MAMA UBU.
Gentlemen, we are going to eat veal! BORDURE. It’s
very good. I’m finished. MAMA UBU. To
rumps now. BORDURE.
Delicious! delicious! Hurray for Mama Ubu! ALL. Hurray for
Mama Ubu! PAPA UBU
(returning). And soon you’ll be shouting “Hurray for
Papa Ubu!” In his hand he
holds an unmentionable mop. He dashes it on
the banqueting table. MAMA UBU.
Wretch! what are you doing? PAPA UBU. Try a
little of that. Several taste
it and fall down poisoned. PAPA UBU. Mama Ubu, pass me the cutlets of rastron. I’ll serve. MAMA UBU. Here
they are. PAPA UBU. To
the door, everybody! Captain Bordure, I have
to speak to you. THE OTHERS.
Hey! we haven’t eaten. PAPA UBU. How
have you not eaten? To the door, everybody!
Remain, Bordure. No one moves. PAPU UBU. Not
gone yet? Now by my green candle, I’m going to
murder you with these cutlets of rastron. He begins throwing
them. ALL. Oh! Ouch!
Help! Defend yourselves! Curses! I’m dead! PAPA UBU. Pshite, pshite, pshite! To the door! I order it. ALL. Save
yourselves! Miserable Papa Ubu! Traitor and crude
beggar! PAPA UBU. Ah!
they’ve left. I can breathe easy now, but I dined
very badly. Come, Bordure. They leave with
Mama Ubu. Scene IV Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu, Captain Bordure.
PAPA UBU. Well
then. Captain, did you dine well? BORDURE. Very
well, sir, except for the shit. PAPA UBU. Eh!
the pshite wasn’t bad. MAMA UBU. Each
to their own taste. PAPA UBU.
Captain Bordure, I’ve decided to make you Duke of
Lithuania. BORDURE. But
how? I thought you were terribly poor, Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. In a
few days, if you please, I shall reign over Poland. BORDURE. Are
you going to kill Wenceslas? PAPA UBU. He’s
not silly, this chap. He guessed it. BORDURE. If
it’s a question of killing Wenceslas, I’m in. I’m his
mortal enemy and I’ll answer for my men. PAPA UBU (throwing
himself on Bordure to kiss him). Oh! oh! I love
you, Bordure. BORDURE. Hey!
you stink, Papa Ubu. Don’t you ever wash? PAPA UBU.
Rarely. MAMA UBU.
Never! PAPA UBU. I’m
going to stamp on your feet! MAMA UBU. Thick
pshite! PAPA UBU. Go,
Bordure, I’ve finished with you. But by my green
candle, I swear by Mama Ubu to make you Duke of
Lithuania. MAMA UBU. But …
PAPA UBU. Say
nothing, my soft child. They leave. Scene V Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu, a Messenger. PAPA UBU. What
do you want, mister? Get out of here. You tire
me. THE MESSENGER.
You are summoned, sir, by the King. He goes out. PAPA UBU. Oh! pshite, jarnicotonbleu, by my
green candle, I’ve
been found out! I’m going to be decapitated!
Oh! Oh!! MAMA UBU. What
a softy! And time is short. PAPA UBU. Oh! I
have an idea: I’ll say it was Mama Ubu and Bordure. MAMA UBU. Ah!
thick P.U.. If you do that… PAPA UBU. Hey!
I’ll go there at once! He leaves. MAMA UBU (running
after him). Oh, Papa Ubu, Papa Ubu! I’ll give you sausages! PAPA UBU
(offstage). Oh, pshite! You know what you can do with
your sausages! Scene VI The King’s
palace. King Wenceslas,
surrounded by his officers; Bordure; the king’s
sons, Boleslas, Ladislas,
and Bougrelas; plus Ubu. PAPA UBU
(entering). It’s not me, you know! It’s Mama Ubu and Bordure. THE KING. What
is the matter, Papa Ubu? BORDURE. He’s
drunk. THE KING. As
was I this morning. PAPA UBU. Yes,
I’m drunk. I’ve had too much French wine. THE KING. Papa Ubu, I am anxious to reward you for your numerous
services as Captain of Dragoons, and I make you today
Count of Sandomir. PAPA UBU. 0
Wenceslas, sir, I don’t know how to thank you. THE KING. Don’t
thank me, Papa Ubu. Just be there tomorrow at the
big parade. PAPA UBU. I’ll
be there, but please do me the honour of accepting
this small kazoo. (He gives the king a kazoo.) THE KING. What
would a man my age do with a kazoo? I’ll
give it to young Bougrelas. YOUNG
BOUGRELAS. He is a beast, this Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. And
now I am going back home. (He falls down
turning away.) Oh! Ouch! Help! By my green candle,
I’ve busted a gut and cracked the bouzine! THE KING
(picking him up). Are you badly hurt, Papa Ubu? PAPA UBU. Yes
certainly, and I’m surely going to burst. What
will become of Mama Ubu? THE KING. We
shall see to her maintenance. PAPA UBU.
You’re very kind. (He goes out.) Yes, but King Wenceslas,
you won’t be any the less slaughtered. Scene VII Ubu’s house Lap, Battery, Cotice, Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu, Conspirators
and Soldiers, Captain Bordure. PAPA UBU. Hey!
my good friends, it’s high time we formulated a
plan of action. Everybody’ll give their opinion. I’ll
give mine first, if you’ll permit. BORDURE. Speak,
Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. Hey
well, my friends, my idea is simply to poison the
king by putting arsenic in his lunch. Then when he goes to
taste it, he’ll drop dead, and so I will be king. ALL. Fi, the sagouin! PAPA UBU. Hey
what, doesn’t it please you? Then let Bordure share
his idea. BORDURE. I
think we should give him a big stroke of a sword that
will split him from the head to the belt. ALL. Yes!
Voilà! That is noble and valiant. PAPA UBU. And
if he starts kicking you? I just remembered – on
parade he wears iron boots that hurt badly. If I’d
thought of it before, I’d have gone and denounced you
for trying to involve me in this dirty business, and I
reckon he would reward me too. MAMA UBU. Oh!
the traitor, the coward, the nasty wretch! ALL. Boo, Papa Ubu! PAPA UBU. Hey!
Gentlemen calm yourselves if you don’t want to
visit my pockets. I agree to take the risk for you. By the
way, Bordure, you’re in charge of slicing the
king in two. BORDURE.
Wouldn’t it be better for us all to jump on him at once
while bawling and bawling? We’d have a better chance
of winning over the troops. PAPA UBU. Then,
voilà I’ll try to step on his feet. He’ll jump
back, and I’ll say to him: PSHITE, and on that signal you
will jump on him. MAMA UBU. Yes,
and as soon as he has died, you will take his sceptre and his crown. BORDURE. And I
will lead my men in pursuit of the Royal Family. PAPA UBU. Yes,
and I especially recommend you get the young Bougrelas. They leave. PAPA UBU
(running after them and making them come back).
Gentlemen, we forgot an indispensable ceremony. It is
necessary to swear to fight valiantly. BORDURE. And
how do we manage that? We don’t have a priest. PAPA UBU. Mama Ubu can stand in place of one. ALL. Hey well.
Whatever. PAPA UBU. Do
you swear to really kill the king? ALL. Yes, we
swear it! Hurrah for Papa Ubu! Act 2 Scene I The King’s
palace. Wenceslas,
Queen Rosemonde, Boleslas,
Ladislas and Bougrelas. THE KING.
Mister Bougrelas, you were very impertinent
this morning to Master Ubu, knight of my orders and Count
of Sandomir. Therefore I forbid you to appear at my
parade. THE QUEEN. But
Wenceslas, it wouldn’t be too much for you to have
your whole family to defend you. THE KING.
Madam, I never go back on my word. You tire me
with these nonsenses. BOUGRELAS. I
submit, my father. THE QUEEN.
Really, my lord, are you determined to go to this
parade? THE KING. Why
not, my lady? THE QUEEN. Have
I not dreamed of him striking you with his many
weapons and throwing you into the Vistule, while an eagle like that on the arms of
Poland places the
crown upon his head? THE KING. Whose
head? THE QUEEN. Papa
Ubu’s! THE KING. What
madness! Mister Ubu is a very fine gentleman who
would let himself be torn apart by wild horses for my
service. THE QUEEN AND
BOUGRELAS. What idiocy! THE KING. Keep
your opinions to yourself, young sagouin. And you, my lady, to prove how little I
fear Mister Ubu, I’m going to the review as I am, without buckler and
without sword. THE QUEEN.
Fatal imprudence! I won’t see you living again. THE KING. Come,
Ladislas. Come, Boleslas.
They leave. The
Queen and Bougrelas go to the window. THE QUEEN AND
BOUGRELAS. May God and great Saint
Nicholas watch over you! THE QUEEN. Bougrelas, come into the chapel with me pray for
your father and your brothers. Scene II The parade
ground. The Polish
Army, The King, Boleslas, Ladislas,
Papa Ubu, Captain Bordure and his men, Lap,
Battery, Cotice. THE KING. Noble
Papa Ubu, come closer to me to inspect the
troops. PAPA UBU (to
his men). Attention, you lot. (To the King). Coming,
Sire, coming. Ubu’s men surround the King. THE KING. Ah!
there is the regiment of Danzig horse- guards. My
word, they are very beautiful! PAPA UBU. You
think so? They appear to me to be miserable. Look
at this one. (To the Soldier). How long has it been
since you washed yourself, you worthless clown? THE KING. But
this soldier is very clean. What is the matter with
you, Papa Ubu? PAPA UBU. This!
He stamps on
the King’s foot. THE KING.
Wretch! PAPA UBU.
PSHITE! To me, my men! BORDURE.
Hurrah! Forward! All strike the
King. A Paladin explodes. THE KING. Oh!
help! Holy Virgin, I’ve died! BOLESAS, TO
LADISLAS. That does it! Let’s draw! PAPA UBU Ah! I
have the crown! Now for the others. BORDURE. Death
to the traitors!! The king’s sons
run away. All pursue them. Scene III The Queen and Bougrelas THE QUEEN. At last
I begin to feel reassured. BOUGRELAS. You
don’t have any cause to fear. An awful clamour is heard outside. THE QUEEN. What
is that dreadful noise? BOUGRELAS. Ah!
What do I see? My two brothers pursued by Papa
Ubu and his men. THE QUEEN. Oh
my God! Holy Virgin. They’re losing ground. BOUGRELAS. The
whole army is following Papa Ubu. The king is not there. Horror! Help! THE QUEEN. Boleslas is dead! He received a bullet. BOUGRELAS. Hey!
(Ladislas turns around.) Defend yourself!
Hurrah for Ladislas! THE QUEEN. Oh!
he’s surrounded. BOUGRELAS. This
is the end of him. Bordure just cut him in two like
a sausage. THE QUEEN.
Alas! These madmen penetrate the palace. They’re
coming up the stairs. The clamour increases. THE QUEEN AND
BOUGRELAS (on their knees). My God, defend
us. BOUGRELAS. Oh!
That Papa Ubu! The wretched rogue! If I had
him here… Scene IV The same. The
door is demolished. Papa Ubu and his men burst in. PAPA UBU. Hey! Bougrelas. What now? BOUGRELAS. By
the living God! I will defend my mother to the
death! The first one to take a step dies! PAPA UBU. Oh,
Bordure, I’m scared! Let me out of here. A SOLDIER
(advances). Surrender, Bougrelas! BOUGRELAS.
Hold, hooligan! Here’s your comeuppance! He splits open
the Soldier’s skull. THE QUEEN. Hold
good, Bougrelas! Hold good! MANY
(advancing). Bougrelas, we promise to spare your life. BOUGRELAS.
Scoundrels, scrotums, mercenary sagouins! He makes a
windmill with his sword, and massacres them. PAPA UBU. Oh!
I’ll finish this thing just the same. BOUGRELAS.
Mother, save yourself by the secret staircase. THE QUEEN. And
you, my son, and you? BOUGRELAS. I’ll
follow. PAPA UBU. Try
and catch the queen! Ah, she’s gone! As for you, you
wretch… He advances
toward Bougrelas. BOUGRELAS. Ah,
by the living God! Here is my vengeance! He rips open
Papa Ubu’s guts with a terrible blow of his sword. BOUGRELAS.
Mother, I follow you! He disappears
by the secret staircase. Scene V A cavern in the
mountains. Young Bougrelas enters, followed by Rosemonde.
BOUGRELAS. Here
we will be safe. THE QUEEN. Yes,
I hope so. Bougrelas, support me! She falls in
the snow. BOUGRELAS. Ha,
what, my mother, ails you? THE QUEEN. I’m
very sick, believe me, Bougrelas. I have only two
hours to live. BOUGRELAS.
What! Has the cold weather gotten to you? THE QUEEN. How
can I stand so many blows? The king
slaughtered, our family destroyed, and you – representing
the noblest race that ever carried the sword – forced
to hide in the mountains like a smuggler. BOUGRELAS. And
by who, great God, by who? Vulgar Papa Ubu, an adventurer from who knows where?, a vile
scoundrel, a shameful vagabond! And when I think
that my father decorated him and made him a count,
and the following day that villain unashamedly
assaulted him. THE QUEEN. Oh, Bougrelas! When I remember how happy we were
before the arrival of this Papa Ubu! But now, alas, all
is changed. BOUGRELAS. What
do you want? Let’s wait with hope and never
renounce our claim. THE QUEEN. I
wish it for you, my child, but as for me, I won’t see
the happy day. BOUGRELAS. Eh?
what’s wrong? She becomes pale, she falls.
Help! But I’m in a desert! Oh, my God! Her heart doesn’t
beat any more. She’s dead! Is this possible?
Another victim for Papa Ubu! He buries his
face in his hands, and weeps. BOUGRELAS. Oh,
my God! how sad it is to find oneself alone
at the age of fourteen, with a terrible vengeance to
pursue! He falls prey
to the most violent despair. Meanwhile the Souls of
Wenceslas, Boleslas, Ladislas
and Rosemonde enter the cave. Their Ancestors come with them and fill
the cave. The eldest approaches Bougrelas and gently wakes him. BOUGRELAS. Hey?
What do I see? All my family, my ancestors!
By what miracle? THE GHOST.
Learn, Bougrelas, that I was during my life Matthias
Lord of Koenigsberg, the first king and founder of our
house. I place upon you the responsibility
of exacting our vengeance. (He gives him a big
sword.) Let this sword not rest until it has caused the
death of the usurper. The Ghosts
disappear, and Bougrelas remains alone in an attitude of
ecstasy. Scene VI The King’s
palace. Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu, Captain Bordure.
PAPA UBU. No! I
won’t do it! You want to ruin me with this
nonsense? BORDURE. But in
short, Papa Ubu, don’t you see the people await
the happy event. MAMA UBU. If
you don’t have meats and gold distributed,
you’ll be overthrown within two hours. PAPA UBU.
Meats, yes! Gold, no! Slaughter three old horses. That’s
good enough for such sagouins. MAMA UBU. Sagouin yourself! How did I end up with such an
animal as you? PAPA UBU. For
the last time, I want to become richer. I won’t release
a single coin. MAMA UBU. When
he has in his hands all the treasures of
Poland. BORDURE. Yes. I
know that there is in the chapel an immense
treasure. We will distribute it. PAPA UBU.
Wretch! Just you try! BORDURE. But
Papa Ubu, if you don’t make any distributions,
the people won’t want to pay their taxes. PAPA UBU. Is
this really true? MAMA UBU. Yes,
yes! PAPA UBU. Oh,
then I agree to all. Invite three million people
and cook a hundred and fifty cows and sheep,
especially as I will also have some. They leave. Scene VII The court of
the palace full of people. Papa Ubu wearing a crown, Mama Ubu,
Captain Bordure,
hirelings loaded with meat. PEOPLE. There’s
the king! Long live the king! Hurrah!! PAPA UBU
(throwing gold). Catch. This is for you. It hardly amuses
me to give you money, but you know, that’s what
Mama Ubu wanted. At least promise me you’ll pay your
taxes. ALL. Yes, yes! BORDURE. Look,
Mama Ubu, see how squabble. What a battle! MAMA UBU. It’s
truly horrible. Ugh! there’s someone with
his skull cracked open. PAPA UBU. What
a beautiful spectacle! Bring other cases of gold. BORDURE. If we
made a race… PAPA UBU. Yes,
that’s an idea. (To the people.) My friends, you
see this case of gold? It contains three hundred
thousand golden rose-nobles in genuine Polish currency. Those
who want to run get at that end of the courtyard. You
will start when I wave my handkerchief,
and the winner will have the case. As for those that
don’t win they will have this other case to share as a
consolation prize. ALL. Yes! Long
live Papa Ubu! What a good king! One didn’t see
anything so good in the days of Wenceslas. PAPA UBU (to
Mama Ubu with joy). Listen to them! All the people
line up at the far end of the courtyard. PAPA UBU. One,
two, three! Are you ready? ALL. Yes! Yes! PAPA UBU. Go! They start
running and falling over themselves. Screaming and
tumult. BORDURE. They
approach! They approach! PAPA UBU. Hey!
The first one is losing ground! MAMA UBU. No!
He’s regained it. BORDURE. Oh!
He’s losing, he’s losing! Finish! It’s the other The one that
was second finishes first. ALL. Long live
Michel Fédérovitch! Long live Michel Fédérovitch! MICHEL
FÉDÉROVITCH. My lord, I really don’t know how to
thank Your Majesty. PAPA UBU. Oh,
my dear friend, this is nothing. Take home your case,
Michel; and the rest of you, divide this other case
between you. Take a piece each until there aren’t
any left. ALL. Long live
Michel Fédérovitch! Long live Papa Ubu! PAPA UBU. And
you, my friends, come and dine. I open today the
doors of the palace. Please honour me by sharing my
table. PEOPLE. Let’s
go! Let’s go! Long live Papa Ubu! He is the noblest
of rulers! They enter the
palace. One hears the noise of an orgy that continues
until the following day. The curtain falls. Act 3 Scene I The palace. Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu. PAPA UBU. Now,
by my green candle, here am I, king in this
country. I’ve already given myself indigestion and
someone is fetching my big cape. MAMA UBU.
What’s it made of, Papa Ubu? Being king is all
very well, but we have to economize. PAPA UBU. Madam
my female, the cape is made of sheep-skin with
a clasp and bridles made of dog-skin. MAMA UBU. Why,
that’s beautiful. But it’s even more beautiful
to be royal. PAPA UBU. Yes,
you are right, Mama Ubu. MAMA UBU. We
owe a great deal to the Duke of Lithuania. PAPA UBU. To
who? MAMA UBU. Hey!
Captain Bordure. PAPA UBU. Do me
a favour, Mama Ubu: don’t
speak to me of that
buffoon. Now that I don’t need him any more, he can
kiss my arse. He’s not getting that duchy. MAMA UBU.
You’re making a mistake, Papa Ubu. He’ll turn
against you. PAPA UBU. Oh! I
pity him a lot, this small man. I worry as much
about him as I do about Bougrelas. MAMA UBU. Hey?
Do you think you’re done with Bougrelas? PAPA UBU. You
bet your arse. What do you think he’s going to
do to me, that fourteen-year-old monkey? MAMA UBU. Papa Ubu, pay attention to what I tell you. Try to win
over Bougrelas by your kindness. PAPA UBU. More
money to hand out? Ah! No! You’ve already
made me waste twenty-two million. MAMA UBU. Watch
your head. Papa Ubu. Or he’ll cook it for
you. PAPA UBU. Hey
well, you will be with me in the pot. MAMA UBU.
Listen once again. I am sure that young Bougrelas can beat you because he has justice on his
side. PAPA UBU. Ah,
dirt! Isn’t injustice just as worthy as justice? Ah,
you abuse me, Mama Ubu. I’m going to cut you into
little pieces! Mama Ubu runs away, pursued by Ubu. Scene II The great hall
of the palace. Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu, officers and
soldiers, Lap, Battery, Cotice, nobles in chains; financiers,
magistrates, clerks. SUBTERRANEAN
NOISES. Kneading the glottises and larynges of
the jaw without a palate, How fast the
printer prints! The sequins
tremble like the windmill’s vanes, The leaves
fall, in the teasing of the wind. The jaw of the
skull without brains chews up the strangers
brain, Sundays, on the
hill, to the sound of fifes and drums, Or on
red-letter days, in the endless cellars of the palace. Unfolding and
explaining, the Debraining Machine, How fast, how
fast, the printer prints! PAPA UBU. Bring
in the noble crate and the noble hook and the
noble knife and the noble book! And then – bring in the
nobles! The Nobles are
brutally shoved in. MAMA UBU.
Restrain yourself, Papa Ubu, for goodness’
sakes. PAPA UBU. I
have the honour to inform you that to enrich the
kingdom I’m going to kill all you nobles and take your
possessions. NOBLES. Horror!
To us, people and soldiers! PAPA UBU. Bring
the first Noble, and pass me my Noble hook.
Those that are condemned to death I’ll put through the
trapdoor and they’ll fall into the basement of Pinchpork and then into the room below where their brains will be
removed by the debraining machine. (To the 1st Noble.)
Who are you, you buffoon? FIRST NOBLE.
Count of Vitepsk. PAPA UBU.
What’s your income? FIRST NOBLE.
Three million rixdales. PAPA UBU.
Condemned! He grabs the
Noble with the hook and puts him down the hole. MAMA UBU. What
base ferocity! PAPA UBU.
Second Noble, who are you? (The Noble says nothing.)
You going to answer, dirt bag? SECOND NOBLE.
Grand Duke of Posen. PAPA UBU.
Excellent! Excellent! That’s all I want to know. Into the
hole! Third Noble, who are you? You have a dirty
head. THIRD NOBLE.
Duke of Courlande and of the cities of Riga, Ravel,
and Mitau. PAPA UBU. Very
well! Very well! Don’t you have something else?
THIRD NOBLE.
Nothing. PAPA UBU. Into
the hole then! Fourth Noble, who are you? FOURTH NOBLE.
Prince of Podolie. PAPA UBU.
What’s your income? FOURTH NOBLE. I
am skint. PAPA UBU. For
using foul language, you go in the hole. Fifth
Noble, who are you? FIFTH NOBLE.
Margrave of Thorn, Palatine of Polack. PAPA UBU.
That’s not much. Don’t you have anything else? FIFTH NOBLE. It
is sufficient for me. PAPA UBU. Hey
well!. It is better to have little than nothing. Into
the hole! What are you snivelling about. Mama Ubu? MAMA UBU. You
are too ferocious, Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. Hey!
I’m becoming richer. I’m going to have them read
me MY list of MY possessions. Herald, read me
MY list of MY possessions. THE HERALD.
Earldom of Sandomir. PAPA UBU. Begin
with the principalities, you dickhead! THE HERALD.
Principality of Podolie, Grand-Duchy of Posen, Duchy
of Courlande, Earldom of Sandomir,
Earldom of Vitepsk, Palatinate of Polack, Margraviate
of Thorn. PAPA UBU. What
else? THE HERALD.
That’s all. PAPA UBU. How
can that be all? Oh well then, let’s get on with the
Nobles, and seeing it’s taking so long to get richer,
I’m going to execute them all. So I’ll get all their
possessions. All right, throw the Nobles down the hole. (The Nobles are
herded into the hole.) PAPA UBU.
Hurry, if you please. Now I want to make laws. SEVERAL. This
we’ve got to see. PAPA UBU. I’m
going to first reform justice. After that we will
proceed to finances. SEVERAL
MAGISTRATES. We oppose all change. PAPA UBU. Pshite! From now on, magistrates will no longer be paid.
MAGISTRATES.
And what will we live on? We are poor. PAPA UBU. You
can have the fines you impose and the possessions
of those you sentence to death. FIRST MAGISTRATE.
Horror! SECOND. Infamy!
THIRD. Scandal!
FOURTH.
Indignity! ALL. We refuse
to judge under those circumstances. PAPA UBU. Into
the hole with the magistrates! They struggle
in vain. MAMA UBU. Hey,
what are you doing, Papa Ubu? Who’s to render
justice now? PAPA UBU. Me!
You’ll see how well things’ll go. MAMA UBU. Yes,
that’ll be perfect. PAPA UBU. Shut
up, you brainless tart. And now, gentlemen, we
proceed to matters of finance. FINANCIERS.
There’s nothing needs changing. PAPA UBU. I
want everything changed! First, I want to keep half
the taxes. FINANCIERS. How
excessive! PAPA UBU.
Gentlemen, we’ll put a ten percent tax on property,
another on trade and industry, a third on marriages, a
fourth on not marrying, and a fifth on deaths, of
fifteen francs each. FIRST
FINANCIER. But that’s that’s silly, Papa Ubu. SECOND
FINANCIER. It’s absurd. THIRD
FINANCIER. That has neither head nor tail. PAPA UBU. You
dare argue with me? Into the hole with the
financiers! They stuff the
financiers in. MAMA UBU. But
really. Papa Ubu, what kind of a king are you?
You slaughter everybody. PAPA UBU. Hey pshite! MAMA UBU. No
more justice, no more finance . PAPA UBU. Fear
not, my sweet child. I’ll go from village to
village to collect the taxes in person. Scene III A house of
peasants in the vicinity of Warsaw. Several
peasants are assembled. A PEASANT
(coming in). Did you hear the big news? The king is
dead, the dukes also and the young Bougrelas ran away with his mother to the mountains.
And on top of
all that, Papa Ubu has seized the throne. ANOTHER. I know
some other news. I come from Cracow where I
saw them carry away the bodies of more than three
hundred nobles and five hundred magistrates he
killed, and it appears they are going to double the
taxes and Papa Ubu will come to collect them himself. ALL. Great God!
What will become of us? Papa Ubu is an awful sagouin and his family, it is said, is abominable. A knocking at
the door. A PEASANT.
Listen! Is that not someone knocking at the door? A VOICE
(outside). Horn-belly! Open by my pshite, by Saint John,
Saint Peter, and Saint Nicholas, open up! Blood and
money! Hornducats! I’ve come for the taxes! The door is
demolished. Ubu enters followed by his legion of
money-grabbers. Scene IV PAPA UBU. Which
one of you is the oldest? (A peasant
advances.) What’s your name? THE PEASANT. Stanislas Leczinski. PAPA UBU. Well
then, horn-belly, listen to me well, otherwise these
gentlemen will cut off your ears. Do I have your
attention? STANISLAS. Your
Excellency has yet to say anything. PAPA UBU. What?
I’ve been speaking for an hour. Do you think I
came here to preach to the wilderness? STANISLAS. Such
a thought is far from my mind. PAPA UBU. I’ve
come to tell you and direct you and inform you that
you have to produce and show your money
immediately, otherwise you will be slaughtered. Let’s go, noble
snot-noses of finance, bring in the money wagon. Someone brings
in the wagon. STANISLAS. My
lord, we are down on the register for only one
hundred and fifty-two rixdales, which we’ve already paid
six weeks ago come Michaelmas. PAPA UBU. It is
very possible, but I’ve changed the government and
I announced in the newspaper that you will have to
pay all existing taxes twice, and three times those
that will be designated subsequently. With this system I’ll
make my fortune quickly; then I will kill everybody
and leave. PEASANTS.
Mister Ubu! Have mercy on us. We are poor citizens. PAPA UBU. I
don’t give a pshite. Pay. PEASANTS. We
are not able to. We have paid. PAPA UBU. Pay!
Or I’ll break you with torture and separation of
the neck from the head! Horn-belly, I am the king, am I
not? ALL. Ah, it is
thus! To arms! Long live Bougrelas, by God’s grace
King of Poland and Lithuania! PAPA UBU.
Forward, gentlemen of Finance! Do your duty. A fight ensues.
The house is destroyed, and old Stanislas runs alone across the plain. Ubu remains to collect the
money. Scene V A dungeon in
the fortress of Thorn. Bordure in
chains, Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. Ah,
citizen, that’s how it is. You wanted that I pay you
what I owed you, then you rebelled because I
didn’t. You conspired against me and now you’re in
chains. Hornstrompet! The trick is turned so well on you it
must surely be to your taste! BORDURE. Take
care, Papa Ubu. In the five days you’ve been
king, you’ve committed more murders than it would
take to damn all the saints of Paradise. The blood of
the king and his nobles cries for vengeance, and
their cries will be heard. PAPA UBU. Hey!
my beautiful friend, you’re talking heavy! I don’t
doubt that if you escaped it could result in
complications, but I don’t believe the dungeons of Thorn have ever
set free any of the fine young men entrusted to
them. And so, good night, and I invite you to sleep well
although the rats dance a beautiful sarabande. He leaves. The gaoler comes to lock all doors. Scene VI The palace at
Moscow. The Emperor
Alexis and his court, Bordure. CZAR ALEXIS.
Was it not you, infamous adventurer, who cooperated
in the death of our cousin Wenceslas? BORDURE. My
lord, forgive me. I was forced into it in spite of
myself by Papa Ubu. ALEXIS. Oh! The
awful liar! Anyway, what do you want? BORDURE. Papa Ubu had me gaoled on a trumped-up
charge of
conspiracy. I succeeded in escaping, and I rode on
horseback five days and nights across the steppes to come
and implore your gracious mercy. ALEXIS. What
did you bring me as a token of your submission? BORDURE. My
free sword and a detailed plan of the city of Thorn. ALEXIS. I’ll
take the sword, but burn this plan by Saint George! I
don’t want to owe my victory to treason. BORDURE. One of
the sons of Wenceslas, young Bougrelas, is still alive. I will do anything to
restore him to the
throne. ALEXIS. What
rank did you hold in the Polish army? BORDURE. I
commanded the 5th regiment of dragoons at Wilna and a company of mercenaries in the pay of Papa
Ubu. ALEXIS. Good. I
name you sub-lieutenant in the 10th Cossack
regiment, and beware if you turn traitor! If you fight well,
you will be rewarded. BORDURE. I do
not lack courage, my lord. ALEXIS. That is
well. Disappear from my presence. He goes. Scene VII Ubu’s council chamber. Papa Ubu, Mama Ubu, Councillors of Phynance. PAPA UBU.
Gentlemen, the meeting is now open. Try to listen
carefully and keep calm. First we’re going to examine our
finances, then we’ll talk about a little system I’ve
invented for making good weather and bringing rain. A COUNCILLOR.
Very good indeed, Mister Ubu. MAMA UBU. What
a silly man! PAPA UBU. Lady
of my pshite, watch yourself. I won’t endure
your silliness. Well then, gentlemen, I have informed
you that the finances are going fairly well. A
considerable number of dogs in woollen stockings pour
into the streets, and the dognappers are doing fine. On
all sides one sees only burning houses, and people
bending under the weight of our finances. THE COUNCILLOR.
And the new taxes, Master Ubu, are they
working? MAMA UBU. Not
at all. The tax on marriage has produced only
11 coins, and so Papa Ubu pursues people
everywhere to force them to get married. PAPA UBU. Blood
and money! Horn-belly! Madam financier,
haven’t I ears to speak with and you a mouth to hear me?
(Burst of laughter.) Or rather, no! You confuse me and
you are the reason I am silly! Now horn of Ubu! . . . (A messenger enters.) Now what does he want? Go
then, sagouin, or I’ll poach you with beheading and
with twisting of the legs. Messenger
leaves. MAMA UBU. Ah!
He’s gone but he left this letter. PAPA UBU. Read
it. I believe I’m losing my mind, or else I don’t
know how to read. Hurry up, buffoonette, this must be
from Bordure. MAMA UBU.
Precisely. He says the Czar welcomed him very well,
that he’s going to invade your dominions to
re-establish Bougrelas, and then you will be killed. PAPA UBU. Ho!
Ho! I am afraid! Ha, I think I’m dying. Oh poor
man that I am. What’s to become of me, great God?
This mean man is going to kill me. Saint Anthony
and all the saints, protect me! I will give you money and I
will burn candles for you. Lord, what’s to be
done? He weeps and
sobs. MAMA UBU.
There’s only one way out, Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. Which
is what, my love? MAMA UBU. War!!
ALL. Praise
God! There! That is noble! PAPA UBU. Yes,
and I’ll suffer even more blows. FIRST
COUNCILLOR. Let’s run! Let’s run to organise the army. SECOND. And
assemble the provisions. THIRD. And to
prepare the artillery and fortifications. FOURTH. And to
raise money for the troops. PAPA UBU. Ah,
no! I’m going to kill you. I don’t want to spend
money. And another thing – I was once paid to make
war and now I have to do it at my own expense. No,
let’s make war by my green candle since you are so set
on it, but don’t pay a single coin. ALL. Long live
war! Scene VIII The encampment
before Warsaw. Soldiers and
Paladins. SOLDIERS and
PALADINS. Long live Poland! Long live Papa Ubu! PAPA UBU
(entering with casque and cuirass). Hey, Mama Ubu, give me my breastplate and my swagger- stick. I’m soon
going to be so loaded down I won’t be able to walk if
I’m pursued. MAMA UBU. Fi,
the coward! PAPA UBU. Ah!
There’s the pshite-sword that runs away and the
money-crook that doesn’t hold! I’ll never be ready, and
the Russians advance and they’re out to kill me. A SOLDIER. Lord
Ubu, you’re losing your yard- scissors. PAPA UBU. I’m
going to kill you with my pshitehook and mug-knife. MAMA UBU. Ah he
is beautiful with his helmet and his
breast-plate. One is put in mind of an armed pumpkin. PAPA UBU. And
now I’m going to get up on my horse. Bring,
gentlemen, the Horse of Phynances. MAMA UBU. Papa Ubu, your horse won’t be able to carry you. It
hasn’t eaten anything for five days and is nearly dead. PAPA UBU. How
do you like that! They make me pay 12 coins a day
for this nag, and she cannot carry me. Ubu horn! Do you kid me, horn of Ubu, or are you robbing me?
(Mama Ubu blushes, and lowers her eyes.) All
right, bring me another beast, but I won’t go on foot.
Horn-belly! Paladin Lap [in
blackface] leads in an enormous horse. PAPA UBU. I’m
getting on. Oh! I’d better sit because I am going to
fall. (The horse starts.) Ah! Stop my beast. Great
God, I’m going to fall and die!!! MAMA UBU. He is
indeed an imbecile. Ah, he’s up. But now he’s
down. PAPA UBU. Fizzihorn, I’m half dead. But it doesn’t matter. I’m off
to war and I will kill everybody. Anybody who
steps out of line I’ll fix with twisting of the nose and
teeth and extraction of the tongue. MAMA UBU. Good
luck, Mister Ubu! PAPA UBU. I
forgot to tell you that I’m handing you the regency.
But I’m taking the accounts with me. To bad on you if
you cheat me. I’m leaving Paladin Lap to help you.
Farewell, Mama Ubu. MAMA UBU.
Farewell, Papa Ubu. Kill the Czar good. PAPA UBU. For
sure. Twisting of the nose and teeth, extraction of
the tongue and forcing of the swagger stick in the
ears. The army moves
off to the sound of fanfares. MAMA UBU
(alone). Now that this thick stooge is gone, let’s
make it our business to kill Bougrelas and seize us the
treasures. Act 4 Scene I The crypt of
the ancient kings of Poland in the cathedral of
Warsaw. Mama Ubu, alone. MAMA UBU. Now,
where is this treasure? No tile sounds hollow.
Yet I carefully counted thirteen flagstones from
the tomb of Ladislas the Great going along the wall,
and there is not anything. Someone must have
deceived me. No! Here the tile sounds hollow. To
work. Mama Ubu! Let’s loosen this stone. It holds fast.
Let’s use the end of the money-crook. It will serve its
purpose again. There! There is gold in the middle of the
bones of kings. Into our bag, then, with it all! Hey! What
is this noise? In these old vaults, can anything still
be alive? No, it’s nothing. Let’s hurry. Let’s take all.
This money will be better off in daylight than in the
middle of tombs of old princes. Let’s put back the stone.
Now what? Still that noise! This place scares me. I
will take the remainder of this some other time. I will
come back tomorrow. A VOICE (rising
from the tomb of Jean Sigismond). Never, Mama Ubu! Mama Ubu runs away terrified, carrying off the stolen money through a
secret door. Scene II The town square
in Warsaw. Bougrelas and his men, People and soldiers. BOUGRELAS.
Forward, my friends! Long live Wenceslas and
Poland! That old rogue, Papa Ubu, is gone. All that
remains is the old witch, Mama Ubu, and her
champion. I offer to march at your head and to re-establish
the race of my forefathers. ALL. Long live Bougrelas! BOUGRELAS. And
I’ll revoke all the taxes established by
the awful Papa Ubu. ALL. Hurrah!
Forward! Let’s run to the palace and slaughter the
whole brood. BOUGRELAS. Hey!
There is Mama Ubu coming down the
stairway with her guards. MAMA UBU. What
is it you want, gentlemen? Ah! It is Bougrelas! The crowd
launches stones. FIRST GUARD.
All the windows are broken. SECOND GUARD.
Saint George, I am stunned! THIRD GUARD.
Cornelius, I die. BOUGRELAS.
Launch stones, my friends. PALADIN LAP.
Hey! It is thus! He unsheathes
his sword and rushes in, wreaking terrible
carnage. BOUGRELAS. Have
at you! En-garde, you loose cannon! They fight. PALADIN LAP.
I’m dying! BOUGRELAS.
Victory, my friends! And now for Mama Ubu! Trumpets sound.
BOUGRELAS. Ah!
There are the Nobles arriving. Let’s run.
Let’s catch the evil harpy! THE OTHERS.
Until we strangle the old bandit! Mama Ubu runs away pursued by all the Poles. Shots and hail of
stones. Scene III The Polish army
on the march in the Ukraine. PAPA UBU
(enters dragging a long bridle). Blue corn! Ham of
God! Head of cow! We are going to perish because
we die of thirst and tiredness. Lord Soldier, have
the kindness to carry our phynance box, and you, Lord
Lancer, take charge of the pshite-chisel and
physics-stick to relieve our person, because, I repeat, we are
tired. The soldiers
obey. BATTERY. Hey!
Mister! It is astonishing that the Russians don’t
appear. PAPA UBU. It is
regrettable that the state of our finances
doesn’t permit us to have a car big enough for our needs;
because, for fear of demolishing our nag, we came the
whole way on foot, trailing our horse by the bridle. But
when we are back in Poland, we will invent, by
means of our science in physics and helped by the
enlightenment of our councillors, a car to transport the
whole army. COTICE. There’s
Nicholas Rensky on a hurry. PAPA UBU. What’s
bothering him, this boy? RENSKY. All is
lost. Lord! The Poles are revolting. Lap is killed
and Mama Ubu has fled to the mountains. PAPA UBU. Bird
of night, beast of misfortune, owl in gaiters! Where
do you finish with these nonsenses? It’s just one thing
after another. And who did it? Bougrelas, I bet. From whence do you come? RENSKY. From
Warsaw, noble Sire. PAPA UBU. Boy
of my pshite, if I believed you I’d make the whole
army go back the same way it came. But, esteemed
youth, there are on your shoulders more feathers than
brains and you’ve dreamt this silliness. Back to the
outposts, my boy. The Russians are not far off, and we
will have soon to draw our weapons and attack with
everything we’ve got – pshite, phynances
and physics. GENERAL LACSY.
Papa Ubu, don’t you see the Russians on the
plain? PAPA UBU. It is
true! The Russians! And now I am bolloxed! If
there was means for me to get away – but not at all. We
are on a height and exposed on all sides. THE ARMY. The
Russians! The enemy! PAPA UBU. Let’s
go, gentlemen. let’s take up our positions for
the battle. We’re going to stay on this hill and won’t
commit the blunder of descending to the bottom. I will
hold the middle like a living citadel and the rest of you
will circle around me. I recommend that you put in your
rifles as many bullets as they’ll hold, because eight
bullets can kill eight Russians and that’s a few less I
won’t have on my back. We’ll put the infantry at the
bottom of the hill to receive the Russians and
kill them a little, riders behind to throw themselves into
the confusion, and the artillery around the windmill
here to fire into the heap. As for us, we will stay
inside the windmill and will fire with our phynance-gun through the window. Across the door we’ll place the
physics-stick and if someone tries to enter we’ll use
the pshite-hook! OFFICERS. Your
orders, Lord Ubu, will be executed. PAPA UBU. Hey!
It goes well. We will be winners. What hour is
it? GENERAL LASCY.
Eleven O’clock in the morning. PAPA UBU. Then
we shall dine because the Russians won’t attack
before noon. Tell the soldiers, Esteemed General, to get
themselves ready and to begin the Song of Finances. Lascy leaves. SOLDIERS and
PALADINS. Long live Papa Ubu! Ting, ting,
ting; ting, ting, ting; ting, ting, tating! PAPA UBU. Oh,
the brave people. I adore them! A Russian
cannonball arrives and breaks off a vane of the mill. PAPA UBU. Ah!
I’m scared. Lord God, I’m dead! And yet, no –
I’ve no injuries. Scene IV The same. A captain, then
the Russian army. A CAPTAIN
(coming in). Lord Ubu, the Russians attack. PAPA UBU. Hey,
well, what do you expect me to do about it? It
wasn’t me who told them to. However, Gentlemen of
Finances, let us prepare to fight. A second
cannonball. Papa Ubu is bowled over, the cannonball
bouncing up and down on his belly several times before
coming to a stop. GENERAL LASCY.
A second cannonball! I’m getting out of here. He flees. PAPA UBU. Ah,
I’ve had enough. It rains lead and iron here and
we could damage our precious person. Let’s descend. All descend
quickly. The battle has just begun. They disappear into
torrents of smoke at the foot of the hill. A RUSSIAN
(striking). For God and the Czar! RENSKY. Ah! I’m
dead! PAPA UBU.
Forward!! Ah you, mister – you that I’m hitting because
you tried to hit me first-do you hear? You bag of
wine, with your musket that doesn’t go off. THE RUSSIAN. Is
that so? He shoots him
with a revolver. PAPA UBU. Ah!
Oh! I am wounded! I am pierced! I am punched! I’m
done for! I’m buried! Except that he missed! Ah! I
got him! (He rips him open.) Now start something! GENERAL LASCY.
Forward! Let’s press home our advantage!
Cross the moat! Victory is ours!! PAPA UBU. You
think so? So far I feel on my forehead more
bumps than laurels. RUSSIAN
CAVALRY. Hurrah! Make way for the Czar! The Czar
enters, accompanied by Bordure, disguised. A POLE. Ah!
Lord! Save what you can! There’s the Czar! ANOTHER. Ah! My
God! He’s crossing the moat. A THIRD. Biff! Boff! There’s four of them stunned by that big
bastard of a lieutenant. BORDURE. Ah!
had enough, the rest of you? Hold, Jean Sobiesky, this is what’s due to you! (He stuns him.) Now for
the others! He massacres
the Poles. PAPA UBU.
Forward, my friends! Catch this blighter! We’ll make
minced meat of these Muscovites! Victory is ours! Long
live the red Eagle! ALL. Forward!
Hurrah! Ham of God! Get the big feller! BORDURE. By
Saint George, I have fallen. PAPA UBU (recognising him). Ah, it is you, Bordure! Ah, my friend,
we are well happy, along with everyone else present,
to see you. I’m going to cook you slowly! Gentlemen of
Finances, light a fire. Ah! Oh! Ah! I’m dead. It is at
least a cannonball I received. Ah! my God, forgive me
my sins. Yes, it is definitely a cannonball. BORDURE. You’ve
been shot with a cap-pistol. PAPA UBU. Ah!
You ridicule me! Again? I’ll show you! He rushes at
Bordure and tears him apart. GENERAL LASCY.
Papa Ubu, we advance on all fronts. PAPA UBU. So I
see, but I’m not able to do any more. I am bereft of
energy. I would like to sit down on the floor. (Sits on
the ground.) Oh! my bollocks! GENERAL LASCY.
Go take the Czar’s instead. Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. Hey!
I’ll do that at once. Let’s go! Pshitesword, do your duty,
and you, money-crook, don’t remain behind.
Physics-stick, emulate them unstintingly,
and share with this swagger stick the honour of slaughtering, burying and abusing the Muscovite
emperor. Forward, Mr. Horse of Phynances! He charges at
the Czar. A RUSSIAN
OFFICER. Watch out, Your Majesty! PAPA UBU. Take
that, you! Oh! Ouch! Ah! But all the same. Ah!,
gentlemen, mercy! Leave me alone. Oh! But I didn’t
mean it. He runs away.
The Czar pursues him. PAPA UBU. Holy
Virgin, this fanatic pursues me! I’ve got to escape,
great God! Ah! Good, there is the moat. But I feel him
breathing down my neck. Courage! Let’s close our
eyes! He jumps the
moat. The Czar falls in. THE CZAR.
Bollocks! I’ve fallen in. POLES. Hurrah!
the Czar is down! PAPA UBU. I
hardly dare turn around! Ah! That’s good. He’s a
sitting target. That’s it, Poles, give him a good kicking!
He’s got a broad back, the poor sod! No, I don’t dare
watch. All the same, our prediction was spot on. The
physics-stick worked marvels. There’s no doubt that I
would have completely killed him if an inexplicable
terror had not come upon me and annulled in us the
effects of our courage. But we had to suddenly turn
tail, and owe our preservation only to our riding
skills and to the solidity of the hocks of our Horse of Phynances, whose speed is equalled
only by its strength,
and whose agility is famous, and also to the depth of
the moat which was fortunately in the path of the enemy of
those here present, Mister Finance. All of which is
very beautiful, but no one’s listening to me. Let’s go! Here
we go again! The Russian
dragoons charge, and rescue the Czar. GENERAL LASCY
(running across). This time it’s a rout! PAPA UBU. Ah!
That’s our cue to get out of here. Therefore,
gentlemen of Poland, forward! Or rather, backward! POLES. Every
man for himself! PAPA UBU. Let’s
go! What a shower, what a rout, what a
multitude! How am I going to get out of this mess? (He is
knocked over.) Ah! But you! Pay attention, or
you’re going to taste the wrath of Mister Finance. Ah!
he’s gone. Let’s save ourselves – and quick! – while Lascy isn’t looking. He runs off,
then we see the Czar and the Russian army pursuing
the Poles. Scene V A cave in
Lithuania. It snows. Papa Ubu, Battery, Cotice PAPA UBU. Ah!
What a wretched time. It’s freezing enough to split
a rock and the person of Mister Finance is badly
damaged. BATTERY. Hey!
Mister Ubu, are you over your terror and your
flight? PAPA UBU. Yes.
I’m not afraid any more, but I must flee again. COTICE (aside).
What a swine! PAPA UBU. Hey,
Lord Cotice, your yard. How goes it? COTICE. As
well, sir, as it can and it could be worse. By consequeynt of the fact thatte
the lead bends it to the ground, and
I can’t extract the bullet. PAPA UBU.
That’s good. You were always wanting to strike others.
Me, I displayed the greatest courage and without
exposing myself to danger I slaughtered four enemies by my
own hands, not counting those that had already died. COTICE. Do you
know, Battery, what became of little Rensky? BATTERY. He
received a bullet in the head. PAPA UBU. Just
as the poppy and the dandelion are mowed down by
the pitiless efforts of the pitiless mower who mows
them down pitilessly, so did little Rensky play the poppy. He is a hard man to beat,
but there were too
many Russians. BATTERY AND
COTICE. Hey! Mister! AN ECHO (in the
wings). Hhrron! BATTERY. What’s
that? Let’s arm ourselves with our torches. PAPA UBU. Ah,
no! More Russians, I bet! I’ve had enough! Bottom
line: if they piss me off, I’ll marmalise them. Scene VI The same. Enter a bear. COTICE. Hey!
Mister Finance! PAPA UBU. Oh,
hold! Look at the little doggy. He’s so cute. BATTERY. Look
out! Ah! what an enormous bear! My cartridges! PAPA UBU. A
bear? Ah! the atrocious beast! Poor poor me, I’m
being eaten! God save me! He’s coming for me! No,
it’s Cotice he’s after. Ah! I breathe. The bear throws
himself on Cotice. Battery attacks the bear with a
knife. Ubu takes refuge on a rock. COTICE. To me,
Battery! To me! Help me, Mister Ubu! PAPA UBU. Bernique! Sort it out yourself, my friend. We’re saying
our Pater Noster. Everyone will have his turn to get
eaten. BATTERY. I have
him! I’m holding him! COTICE. Hold
tight, my friend. He’s beginning to let go of me. PAPA UBU. Sanctificetur nomem tuum. COTICE. Filthy
coward! BATTERY. Ah!
He’s biting me! Oh Lord, save us. I am dying. PAPA UBU. Fiat voluntas tua. COTICE. Ah! I
have succeeded in wounding him. BATTERY.
Hurrah! he’s losing blood! Amidst the
cries of the Paladins, the bear bellows in pain and Ubu continues to mutter. COTICE. Hold
him tight so I can get him with my explosive
punch. PAPA UBU. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie. BATTERY. Get on
with it. I can’t hold on much longer. PAPA UBU. Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. COTICE. Ah! I
have him! An explosion
sounds and the bear drops dead. BATTERY AND
COTICE. Victory!! PAPA UBU. Sed libera nos
a malo. Amen. Is it very dead yet? Can I
come down from my rock? BATTERY (with
contempt). If you wish. PAPA UBU
(descending). You may flatter yourselves that if you are
still living, and if you tread the snows of Lithuania
again, you owe it to the magnanimous virtue of the Master
of Finance, who strained himself, broke his back, and
near lost his voice saying paternosters for your safety,
and who handled the spiritual sword of prayer with as
much courage as you who handled the temporal
explosive punch of the here-present Paladin Cotice. We pushed our devotion even further,
because we did not
hesitate to go up on a very high rock so that our prayers had
less distance to cross to reach the sky. BATTERY.
Revolting she-ass! PAPA UBU. Here
is a stupid beast. Thanks to me, you have something
to eat. What a belly, gentlemen! The Greeks would
have been more at ease in there than in their
hobby-horse, and we were, dear friends, close to being able to
testify with our own eyes his internal capacity. BATTERY. I’m
dying of hunger. What is there to eat? COTICE. The
bear! PAPA UBU. Hey!
poor lads, are you going to eat it all raw? We don’t
have anything to make fire. BATTERY. Don’t
we have our rifle flints? PAPA UBU. Hold,
it is true. And it seems to me we are not too far
from a small wood where there must be some dry
branches. Be off to look for it, Master Cotice. Cotice goes off across the snow. BATTERY. And
now, Master Ubu, go ahead and cut up the bear. PAPA UBU. Oh
no! He might not be dead. While you, who are already
half eaten and bitten all over, you’re just made for
the part. I’m going to light a fire until he brings wood. Battery begins
to cut up the bear. PAPA UBU. Oh!
Watch out! It moved. BATTERY. But
Lord Ubu, it’s already cold. PAPA UBU.
That’s a pity. It would have been better to eat it hot.
This is going to give the Master of Finance indigestion. BATTERY
(aside). He’s disgusting. (Aloud.) Give us a hand, Mr. Ubu, to complete the task. PAPA UBU. No, I
don’t feel like doing anything. I am tired, as a
matter of fact. COTICE
(returning). What snow, my friends! One would think
oneself in Castille or at the North Pole. Night begins to
fall. In one hour it will be black. Let’s hurry while we
still can see. PAPA UBU. Yes,
do you hear, Battery? Hurry yourself! Both
of you, hurry yourselves. Put the beast on a spit, cook
the beast. I’m hungry, me! BATTERY. Ah,
it’s too much! You have to work or you won’t get
anything, you hear, guzzler? PAPA UBU. Oh!
it’s all the same to me. I’d just as soon eat it
raw. It is you who will suffer. Besides which, I’m
sleepy. COTICE. What,
Battery, do you want? Let’s eat the dinner all
ourselves. He won’t get any, that’s all. Or else we could give
him the bones. BATTERY. Fine.
Ah, the fire is catching. PAPA UBU. Oh!
that’s good. It’s warm now. But I see Russians
everywhere. What a rout, great God! Ah! He falls
asleep. COTICE. I wish
I knew if what Rensky said is true, whether Mama Ubu is indeed dethroned. It ‘s
not impossible. BATTERY. Let’s
finish supper. COTICE. No, we
have to speak of more important things. I think
it would be a good idea for us to inquire as to the
veracity of this news. BATTERY. You’re
right. Should we abandon Papa Ubu, or stay with him? COTICE. The
night brings wisdom. Let’s go to sleep. We’ll decide
tomorrow what needs to be done. BATTERY. No,
better to use the night to slip away. COTICE. Let’s
go then. They leave. Scene VII Ubu speaks while sleeping. Ah! Lord
Russian Dragoon, pay attention. Don’t shoot that way;
everybody’s there! Ah! there’s Bordure. He is bad, one
would say a bear. And Bougrelas who comes at me!
The bear, the bear! Ah, there he is down! It is tough,
Great God! I don’t want to do any work, me!. Bog off, Bougrelas! Do you hear, you fool? There’s Rensky now, and the Czar! Oh! they’re going to fight me.
And Madame Ubu! Where’d you get all this anyway?
You stole my gold, you wretch! You’ve plundered my
tomb in Warsaw Cathedral, close to the Moon. I’ve been
dead a long time, me. It is Bougrelas that killed me,
and I am buried at Warsaw close to Vladislas the Great, and also in Cracow close to
Jean Sigismond, and also at Thorn in the dungeon with Bordure. There
he is again! But go, accursed bear. You look just like
Bordure! Do you hear, beast of Satan? No, he doesn’t
hear. The Snot-noses cut off his ears. That’s it!
Slaughter them! Cut off their ears! Take all their money!
And drink yourself to death! That’s the life of the
Snot-noses – that’s the luck of the Master of Finance. He falls silent
and sleeps. Act 5 Scene I It is night.
Papa Ubu sleeps. Mama Ubu enters without seeing him. The darkness is
complete. MAMA UBU. At
last I find shelter. I am alone here. This is not a
pity, but what a wild race – to cross the whole of Poland
in four days! Every possible misfortune
assailed me at once. No sooner does that fat arse leave, but I go to the crypt to become
richer. Soon afterwards I
almost get stoned to death by Bougrelas and his
fanatics. I lose my cavalier, the Paladin Lap, who was so enamoured of my charms that he would swoon with joy
at seeing me, and even, I’m assured, when he didn’t
look at me – which is the height of passion. He
would have cut himself in half for me, the poor boy. The
proof is that he has been cut into quarters by Bougrelas. Biff, boff, boom!
Ah! I think I’m about to
die. Then, therefore, I take flight, pursued by the furious
mob. I leave the palace. I arrive at the Vistule. All the bridges are guarded. I swim
across the stream, hoping
to evade my pursuers. On all sides the nobility
assembles and pursues. A thousand times I cheat death,
persecuted by a mob of Polacks lusting for my blood. In
short I escaped their fury, and after four days of
tramping through the snow of what was my kingdom, I
arrive to take refuge here. I’ve had nothing to eat or drink
these four days. Bougrelas was closing in on me. But
at last, I’m safe. Ah! I’m dying of weariness and
cold. But I would like to know what became of my
thick buffoon, I mean to say my very esteemed
spouse. After all, did I steal his money? Did I run off with
his rixdales?. Have I taken one lousy bean?! And his
Horse of Phynances, that was dying of hunger – it
didn’t see oats often, the poor devil. Ah! What a great
story. But alas! I lost my treasure! It’s at Warsaw, go look
for it who will. PAPA UBU
(beginning to wake up). Get Mama Ubu! Cut off her
ears! MAMA UBU. Ah
God! Where am I? I’m losing my mind! Ah! no,
Lord! Thank heavens,
I see Little Papa Ubu asleep near me! Let’s be nice.
Well, my fat fellow, did you sleep well? PAPA UBU. Very
poorly! He was well hard, that bear! Fight of the
ravenous against the tough, but the ravenous
completely ate and devoured the tough, as you’ll see when
daylight comes. Do you hear, noble Paladins? MAMA UBU.
What’s he babbling about? He’s even stupider than
when he left. Who’s he talking to? PAPA UBU. Cotice, Battery, answer me, pshite-bag.
Where are you?
Ah! I am afraid. But someone spoke. Who spoke? It’s
not the bear, I suppose. Pshite! Where are my matches?
Ah! I lost them in battle. MAMA UBU
(aside). Let’s take advantage of the situation and
the night. Let’s pretend to be a ghost, and make him
promise to forgive us our larcenies. PAPA UBU. But,
by Saint Anthony, someone speaks! Ham of God!
Hang me if they’re not. MAMA UBU
(magnifying her voice). Yes, Mister Ubu, someone speaks indeed, and the trumpet of
the archangel which
shall draw the dead from the ash and the final dust
would not speak otherwise! Listen to this stern voice. It
is the voice of the Archangel Gabriel, who can only
give good advice. PAPA UBU. Oh!
That, indeed! MAMA UBU. Do
not interrupt me or I shall say no more, and it’ll
be your funeral. PAPA UBU. Ah,
my belly! I’ll be quiet, I won’t say another word. MAMA UBU. We
were saying, Mister Ubu, that you’re a fat
bastard. PAPA UBU. Very
fat, indeed, it’s true. MAMA UBU. By
God, shut up about yourself! PAPA UBU. Oh!
angels don’t swear. MAMA UBU
(aside). Pshite! (Continuing.) You are married, Mister
Ubu. PAPA UBU.
Absolutely, to the last of the minxes. MAMA UBU. You
mean to the most charming of women. PAPA UBU. A
horror. She has claws everywhere. One doesn’t know
how to take her. MAMA UBU. It is
necessary to take her with kindness, Lord Ubu, and if you do you’ll see that she’s at least the
equal of Venus in Paradise. PAPA UBU. Who
did you say had lice? MAMA UBU. You
aren’t listening, Mister Ubu. Lend us a more
attentive ear. (Aside.) But we must hurry, the day is about to
break. Mr. Ubu, your woman is adorable and
delicious. She doesn’t have a single fault. PAPA UBU.
You’re mistaken. There isn’t a single fault she
doesn’t possess. MAMA UBU.
Silence! Your woman has never been unfaithful to
you. PAPA UBU. I’d
like to see the man that would want her. What a
harpy! MAMA UBU. She
doesn’t drink. PAPA UBU. Not
since I took the key to the cellar. Before, at
seven o’clock in the morning, she was drunk and reeking of
brandy. Now that she perfumes herself with heliotrope
she smells no worse. It’s all the same to me. But now
I’m the only one that can get drunk. MAMA UBU.
Stupid fool! Your wife doesn’t steal your gold. PAPA UBU. No?
That’s funny. MAMA UBU. She
doesn’t syphon off a single coin. PAPA UBU.
Witness, sir, our noble and unfortunate Horse of Phynances, who, not being fed for three months, had to
do the entire campaign dragged by the bridle across
the Ukraine. He died on the job, the poor idiot! MAMA UBU. All
lies. Your wife is perfect, and you, what a monster
you are! PAPA UBU. All I
say is true. My wife is a rogue, and what a fathead
you are! MAMA UBU. Take
care, Papa Ubu! PAPA UBU. Ah,
that’s right. I forgot who I was talking to. No,
I didn’t say what I just said. MAMA UBU. You
killed Wenceslas. PAPA UBU. That
was not of course my fault. It’s what Mama Ubu wanted. MAMA UBU. You
killed Boleslas and Ladislas.
PAPA UBU. Too
bad for them! They wanted to hit me! MAMA UBU. You
broke your promise to Bordure, and then you
killed him. PAPA UBU. I’d
rather it was me that reigns in Lithuania than
him. At present you can see it isn’t either of us.
At least, you can see it isn’t me. MAMA UBU.
There’s only one way for all your misdemeanours to be forgiven. PAPA UBU. What
is it? I’m willing to become a holy man. I want to
be a bishop, and see my name on the calendar. MAMA UBU. You
must forgive Mama Ubu for having diverted
a little money. PAPA UBU. Hey
well, voilà! I will forgive her when she has
returned it all and when I’ve thoroughly thrashed her,
and when she has brought my Horse of Phynances back to life. MAMA UBU. He’s
obsessed with that horse. Ah, I’m lost! The day
breaks. PAPA UBU. Well,
anyway, I’m happy to know for sure that my
dear wife has been fleecing me. I have it now from a
reliable source. Omnis a Deo scientia,
which means :
Omnis, all; a Deo, knowledge ; scientia,
comes from God.
There is the explanation of the phenomenon. But
Madame Apparition doesn’t say anything any more. What can I do to comfort her? What she said
was very funny. Hold, but it is daylight. Ah! Lord! Now
by my Horse of Phynances, it’s Mama Ubu! MAMA UBU
(brazenly). That’s not true. I’m going to excommunicate
you! PAPA UBU. Ah!
Carrion! MAMA UBU. What
profanity! PAPA UBU. Ah,
this is too much. I see perfectly well that it’s you,
soft minx! Why the devil are you here? MAMA UBU. Lap
is dead and the Poles hunted me. PAPA UBU. And
me, it is the Russians who hunted me. Beautiful
minds meet. MAMA UBU. In
this case a beautiful mind has met an ass. PAPA UBU. Ah!
Hey well. She is now going to meet a palmipede. He throws the
bear at her. MAMA UBU
(falling in a heap under the weight of the bear) . Ah,
great God! What horror! Ah, I die! I choke! It’s
killing me! It’s swallowing me! It’s digesting me! PAPA UBU. It’s
dead, stupid. Oh! But, as a matter of fact, maybe it
isn’t! Ah Lord!, no, it isn’t dead! Let’s save ourselves!
(Getting back up on his rock.) Pater noster qui es… MAMA UBU
(disentangling herself). Hold! where is he? PAPA UBU. Ah,
Lord! There she is again. Soft creature, is
there no way of getting rid of her? Is it dead, this
bear? MAMA UBU. Hey,
yes, you stupid arse! He’s already cold. How did
he get here? PAPA UBU
(confused). I don’t know. Ah, so, I know. He wanted to
eat Battery and Cotice me, and I killed him with one
blow of the Paternoster Noster. MAMA UBU.
Battery, Cotice, Paternoster Noster!
What’s is that?
He is mad, my finance! PAPA UBU. It’s
exactly as I say. And it’s you who’s mad, my little
gibbon! MAMA UBU. Tell
me about your campaign. Papa Ubu. PAPA UBU. Oh,
lady, no! It is too long. All I know is that in spite
of my incontestable valour, everybody beat me. MAMA UBU. What,
even the Poles? PAPA UBU. They
were shouting: Long live Wenceslas and Bougrelas! I believe they wanted to quarter me. Oh!
the fanatics! And then they killed Rensky. MAMA UBU.
That’s a matter of indifference to me! You know that Bougrelas killed Paladin Lap? PAPA UBU. I’m
indifferent! And then they killed poor Lascy. MAMA UBU. Who
cares? PAPA UBU. Oh,
but all the same, hold on, you carrion! Get
down on your knees before your lord and master. (He
grabs her and forces her to kneel.) You’re going to
undergo capital punishment. MAMA UBU. Oh,
mercy, Mister Ubu! PAPA UBU. Are
you finished? Then I’ll begin: twisting of the
nose, extraction of hair, penetration of the ears with a
small stick, extraction of the brains through the
heels, laceration of the bottom, partial or even total
suppression of the bone marrow – if that will remove the spininess of your character – not forgetting the cutting
open of the bladder, and finally the grand beheading a la
Saint John the Baptist, the whole drawn from the holy
writings of both the Old Testament and the New, set in
order, corrected and perfected by the here-present
Master of Finance! How does that suit you, fathead? He goes to
lacerate her. MAMA UBU.
Mercy, Mister Ubu! Loud noise at
the entrance to the cave. Scene II The same. Enter Bougrelas rushing into the cave with his soldiers. BOUGRELAS.
Forward, my friends! Long live Poland! PAPA UBU. Oh!
oh! Wait a moment, Mr. Polack. Wait till I’ve
finished with Madame my better half. BOUGRELAS
(striking him). Take that, beggar, heretic, bully,
infidel, Moslem! PAPA UBU
(riposting). Take that! Polack, drunkard, bastard,
hussar, tartar, scabbard, cockroach, Savoyard, Communard! MAMA UBU
(hitting him too). Take that! capon, pig, felon, histrion, rascal, trollop, Polack! The soldiers
rush at on the Ubus, who defend themselves as
best they can. PAPA UBU. God!
What a kicking! MAMA UBU. They
sure have feet, these Poles! PAPA UBU. By my
green candle, isn’t this ever going to end? Another
one! Ah, if I had here my Horse of Phynances! BOUGRELAS. Hit!
Always hit! VOICES
(offstage) : Long live, Papa Ubu, our great financier! PAPA UBU. Ah!
There they are. Hurrah. Here come the Ubusmen. Forward. Come in. One has need of you, gentlemen of
Finances! Enter the
champions who throw themselves into the fray. COTICE. To the
door, Poles! BATTERY. Hey!
We meet again, Mister Finance. Forward! Push
vigorously! Secure the door! Once outside, all we
have to do is run away. PAPA UBU. Oh!
I’m good at that. Oh! he hit me! BOUGRELAS. God!
I’m wounded! STANISLAS
LECZINSKI. It ain’t nothing, my lord. BOUGRELAS. No,
I’m only stunned. JEAN SOBIESKI.
Hit! Keep hitting! They’re making for the door,
the beggars! COTICE. I’m
almost there! Follow me, everyone. By consequence of
the fact that I see the sky. BATTERY.
Courage, Lord Ubu! PAPA UBU. Ah!
I’ve done something in my panties. Forward,
horn-belly! Murder them, draw blood, skin them, slaughter
them, horn of Ubu! Ah, they’re retreating. COTICE. There
are only two of them guarding the door. PAPA UBU
(stunning them with the bear). And a one! And a two! Ouf! There – I am outside! Let’s save ourselves.
Everyone follow me – and quick! Scene III The stage
represents the province of Livonia covered with snow. The Ubus and their suite in flight. PAPA UBU. Ah! I
believe they’ve given up trying to catch us. MAMA UBU. Yes. Bougrelas has gone to crown himself. PAPA UBU. I
don’t envy him that crown. MAMA UBU. You
have every reason not to, Papa Ubu. They disappear
into the distance. Scene IV The bridge of a
ship running close to shore on the Baltic, On the bridge,
Papa Ubu and all bis
crew. THE CAPTAIN.
Ah, what a beautiful breeze! PAPA UBU. We’re
certainly sailing at a speed bordering on
the miraculous. We must be making at least a million
knots an hour, and the good thing about these knots is
the fact they can’t be undone. Of course, we have a tail
wind too. BATTERY. What a
pathetic imbecile! A squall comes
up. The ship dips and churns up the sea. PAPA UBU. Oh!
Ah! God! We’ve capsized! Everything is
falling apart. Your boat is going to sink! THE CAPTAIN.
Everybody downwind. Edge the foresail! PAPA UBU. Ah!
But no! Don’t all get to the same side. That’s
imprudent, that is. And suppose the wind changes
direction? Everybody will go to the bottom of the water and
the fishes will eat us. THE CAPTAIN.
Don’t pull in! Tighten close and full. PAPA UBU. Come
on! I’m in a hurry, me. It’s your fault, you
ruffian of a captain, if we don’t make it. We should be there
already. Oh oh, but now I’m taking over. Try to
turn, for God’s sake! Drop the anchor. Face into the
wind. Hoist the sails, secure the sails, helm up up, helm down, helm in the middle! You see, that goes very
well. Cut across into the trough and that’ll be
perfect. They all roar.
The breeze freshens. THE CAPTAIN.
Haul in the standing-jib, take a reef to the topsails! PAPA UBU.
That’s not bad! In fact, it is good! You hear, gentlemen
of the crew? Bring in the big rooster and we will
make a tour of the plum trees. They die
laughing. A wave washes on board. PAPA UBU. Oh,
what a deluge! It’s all down to the orders we gave.
MAMA UBU (to
Battery). Delicious thing, this navigation. A second wave
hits the deck. BATTERY
(drowning). I renounce Satan and all his pumps! PAPA UBU. Esteemed
boy. Bring us a drink. All sit and
drink. MAMA UBU. Ah,
what a delight it will be to see gentle France
once more – our old friends, our castle of Mondragon. PAPA UBU. Hey!
We will be there soon. And right this instant we
have arrived at the castle of Elsinore. BATTERY. I feel
rejuvenated by the thought of once more seeing my
dear Spain. COTICE. Yes,
and we will dazzle our countrymen with tales of
our marvellous adventures. PAPA UBU. Oh!
absolutely. And me, I’m going to rename myself
Master of Finance in Paris. MAMA UBU. There
it is! Ah! what a jolt! COTICE. It’s
nothing. We’ve just rounded the tip of Elsinore. BATTERY. And
now our noble ship sails at full speed over the dark
waves of the North Sea. PAPA UBU. Shy
and inhospitable sea that bathes the country called
Germania – named thus because inhabitants of
this country are all Germanic cousins. MAMA UBU. Now
that’s what I call learning. They say it’s a very
beautiful country. PAPA UBU. Ah!
gentlemen, so beautiful but it doesn’t compare with
Poland. If there weren’t any Poland, there would be
no Poles! ~ END ~ |