User:Revenant/Two Gentlemen of Lebowski

The moft excellent comedie and tragical romance of
TWO GENTLEMEN OF LEBOWSKI.
As writ by MR. ADAM BERTOCCI,
Taking infpiration from MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
and the BROTHERS COEN.
Prefented in FIVE ACTS.
N E W Y O R K, 2 0 1 0.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY
CHORUS
GEOFFREY “THE KNAVE” LEBOWSKI
BLANCHE and WOO, two thugs
SIR WALTER of Poland
SIR DONALD of Greece
BRANDT, serving-man of the Big Lebowski
SIR GEOFFREY OF LEBOWSKI, the Big Lebowski
BONNIE LEBOWSKI, his wife
OLIVER, her consort
JACK SMOKE, a cavalier
MAUDE LEBOWSKI, daughter of the Big Lebowski
JOSHUA QUINCE, a pederast
LIAM O’BRIEN, his partner
Two NIHILISTS
PLAYER QUEEN
MISTRESS QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern
KNOX HARRINGTON, a tapestry artist
DOCTOR BUTTS, a physician
PLAYERS for a dance
LAURENCE SELLERS
CLOWN
JAQUES TREEHORN
BROTHER SEAMUS, an Irish monk
A GRAVEDIGGER
Prologue
[Enter CHORUS]
CHORUS
In wayfarer’s worlds out west was once a man,
A man I come not to bury, but to praise.
His name was Geoffrey Lebowski called, yet
Not called, excepting by his kin.
That which we call a knave by any other name
Might bowl just as sweet. Lebowski, then,
Did call himself ‘the Knave’, a name that I,
Your humble chorus, would not self-apply
In homelands mine; but, then, this Knave was one
From whom sense was a burden to extract,
And of the arid vale in which he dwelt,
Also dislike in sensibility;
Mayhap the very search for sense reveals
The reason that it striketh me as most
Int’resting, yea, inspiring me to odes.
(In couplets first, and then a sonnet brave
As prologue to the tale of this the Knave.
Behold him, then, a-tumbling softly down
To pledge his love immortal to the ground.)
We stray now from fair Albion and from France
And see no Queen of bawdy songs and cheers
And in an angel's city take our chance
For stupefying tales to take our ears.
To war on Arab kings acoast we go,
Needing a man of times, though hero not;
Hear me call him not hero; what’s in a hero?
Sometimes there’s a man, your prologue’s thought.
The Knave, though scarcely man of honour’d grace,
Nor hero Olympian, nor yet employ’d,
Was nonetheless for all his time and place,
The man befits the circle he’s enjoy’d.
A man of lazy ways, of epic sloth;
But, losing train of thought, I’ve spake enough!
[He exits.]
1.1
[THE KNAVE's house. Enter THE KNAVE, carrying parcels, and two THUGS. They
fight]
BLANCHE
Whither the money, Lebowski? Faith, we are servants of Bonnie; promised by the lady
good that thou in turn were good for’t.
WOO
Bound in honour, we must have our bond; cursed be our tribe if we forgive thee.
BLANCHE
Let us soak him in the commode, so as to turn his head.
WOO
Aye, and see what vapourises; then he will see what is foul.
[They insert his head into the commode]
BLANCHE
What dreadful noise of waters in thine ears! Thou hast cooled thine head; think now upon
drier matters.
WOO
Speak now on ducats else again we’ll thee duckest; whither the money, Lebowski?
THE KNAVE
Faith, it awaits down there someplace; prithee let me glimpse again.
WOO
What, thou rash egg! Thus will we drown thine exclamations.
[They again insert his head into the commode]
BLANCHE
Trifle not with the fury of two desperate men. Long has thy wife sealed a bond with
Jaques Treehorn; as blood is to blood, surely thou owest to Jaques Treehorn in
recompense.
WOO
Rise, and speak wisely, man—but hark;
I see thy rug, as woven i’the Orient,
A treasure from abroad. I like it not.
I’ll stain it thus; ever thus to deadbeats.
[He stains the rug]
THE KNAVE
Sir, prithee nay!
BLANCHE
Now thou seest what happens, Lebowski, when the agreements of honourable business
stand compromised. If thou wouldst treat money as water, flowing as the gentle rain from
heaven, why, then thou knowest water begets water; it will be a watery grave your rug,
drowned in the weeping brook. Pray remember, Lebowski.
THE KNAVE
Thou err’st; no man calls me Lebowski. Yet thou art man; neither spirit damned nor
wandering shadow, thou art solid flesh, man of woman born. Hear rightly, man!—for
thou hast got the wrong man. I am the Knave, man; Knave in nature as in name.
BLANCHE
Thy name is Lebowski. Thy wife is Bonnie.
THE KNAVE
Zounds, man. Look at these unworthiest hands; no gaudy gold profanes my little hand. I
have no honour to contain the ring. I am a bachelor in a wilderness. Behold this place; are
these the towers where one may glimpse Geoffrey, the married man? Is this a court where
mistresses of common sense are hid? Not for me to hang my bugle in an invisible baldric,
sir; I am loath to take a wife, or she to take me until men be made of some other mettle
than earth. Hark, the seat of my commode be arisen!
WOO
Search his satchel! His words are a fantastical banquet to work confusion upon his
enemies. There sits eight pounds of proof within; surely he hides his treasure on his
person.
BLANCHE
Villainy! Why this confounded orb, such as men use to play at ninepins; what devilry,
these holes in holy trinity?
THE KNAVE
Obviously thou art not a golfer.
BLANCHE
Then thou art a man to carry ball in his sack? Thou varlet, a plague upon your house; I
shall return thy orb to earth.
[He drops the ball]
Thy floor cracks in haste, sir; thou art not a man of ample foundation. Woo?
WOO
Speak, friend; I am but of droplets.
BLANCHE
Was this not a man of moneys and repute? Did not Treehorn speak of chalcedony halls,
and three chests of gold, as was hard food for Midas? What think’st thou?
WOO
O undistinguish’d man! We are deceived; this man has put not money in his purse.
THE KNAVE
Weep not for grief of my own sustaining, sir. At least I am house-broken, none to break
the houses of others.
WOO
If dog you are, in time you’ll have your day;
Waste time, but Jaques Treehorn will you pay.
[Exeunt severally]
1.2
[The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER and DONALD, to play at ninepins]
WALTER
In sooth, then, faithful friend, this was a rug of value? Thou wouldst call it not a rug
among ordinary rugs, but a rug of purpose? A star in a firmament, in step with the fashion
alike to the Whitsun morris-dance? A worthy rug, a rug of consequence, sir?
THE KNAVE
It was of consequence, I should think; verily, it tied the room together, gather’d its
qualities as the sweet lovers’ spring grass doth the morning dew or the rough scythe the
first of autumn harvests. It sat between the four sides of the room, making substance of a
square, respecting each wall in equal harmony, in geometer’s cap; a great reckoning in a
little room. Verily, it transform’d the room from the space between four walls presented,
to the harbour of a man’s monarchy.
WALTER
Indeed, a rug of value; an estimable rug, an honour’d rug; O unhappy rug, that should
live to cover such days!
DONALD
Of what dost thou speak, that tied the room together, Knave? Take pains, for I would well
hear of that which tied the room together.
WALTER
Didst thou attend the Knave’s tragic history, Sir Donald?
DONALD
Nay, good Sir Walter, I was a-bowling.
WALTER
Thou attend’st not; and so thou hast no frame of reference. Thou art as a child, wandering
and strutting amidst the groundlings as a play is in session, heeding not the poor players,
their exits and their entrances, and, wanting to know the subject of the story, asking
which is the lover and which the tyrant.
THE KNAVE
Come to the point, Sir Walter.
WALTER
My point, then, Knave; there be no reason, if sweet reason doth permit, in
enlightenment’s bower—and reason says thou art the worthier man—
DONALD
Yes, Sir Walter, pray, merrily state the fulcrum of thy argument.
THE KNAVE
My colleague, although unfram’d and unreferenc’d, speaks plain and true. That these
toughs are those at fault, we are agreed; that I stand wounded, unrevenged, we likewise
are agreed; yet you circle the meanings unconstantly, like blunted burrs, unstuck where
they are thrown.
WALTER
I speak of aggression uncheck’d, as crowned heads of state once spoke of Arabia—
DONALD
Arabia! Then we have put a girdle round the earth. Of what does Sir Walter speak?
WALTER
Cast it from thy sievelike books of memory, Sir Donald; thou art out of thy element.
DONALD
Mine element?
WALTER
Wherefore was I curs’d only to minister
To congregations held in deafen’d pits?
I must hobble my speech; of elements, sir,
A doctor of physic did once explain
That all the earth is province elemental,
Sure and steady as the stone-wall foursome
A-holding up the Knave’s roof, tied together
By power that we spake on, our traffic
Unmarred by thy rough and idle chatter.
And the complexion of the element
In favour’s like the rug that ties the room.
O, a muse of fire the first element,
Airy breath the second; though this wind
May well be yours for all you flap your tongue,
O ill-dispersing wind of misery!
Thou hast no wings, and, liable to plunge,
You fit not fowl; yet foul your interruption,
Fished for facts, yet fish you cannot be;
So water, elemental third, you’re not,
How much salt water thrown away in waste.
Of earth, no woman left on earth will have thee,
No man of middle earth will tend thy land,
So walk the plains like to a lonely dragon;
I care not.
THE KNAVE
Good sir, speak plain. I know not these villains, surely would I ne’er traffic with this man
of Orient birth who so abused my rug. I have not the facility to present him with the rate
of usance and demand money in kind for that which he has spent upon’t; so I entreat you,
speak plain.
WALTER
I speak the truth; my words are straight and true.
The man of Orient birth is not the issue.
DONALD
The Orient, Sir Walter?
WALTER
I speak, old friend, of truths in desert land.
The hour is nigh to draw line in the sand.
THE KNAVE
Deserts? I had made it plain that he was Orient-man.
WALTER
Though words in haste be only human nature,
‘Orient-man’ is not preferr’d nomenclature.
THE KNAVE
Give me no further counsel; my griefs cry softer than advertisement.
WALTER
I speak of this other man, Sir Geoffrey of Lebowski. Is not thy name, sir, Geoffrey of
Lebowski? To be or not Lebowski, that is the question; I see we still did meet each
other’s man. Shall we not make amends? A gentleman of high sentence ought to be of
unsequestered location, possessed of resources fit to restore a thousand rugs from vile
offence. He’s not well married that lets his wife a borrower be, such that men gravely
offended bespoil another man’s rug. Be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
No, but verily—
WALTER
Be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
Yea, but verily—
WALTER
That rug, in faith, tied the room together, did it not?
THE KNAVE
By my heart, a goodly rug.
DONALD
And in most miserable tide did this rogue besmirch it.
WALTER
Prithee, Donald! Thou too eagerly hold’st the mirror up to nature.
THE KNAVE
My mind races; I might endeavour to seek this gentleman Lebowski.
DONALD
His name is Lebowski? Verily, ope thine ear; that is thy name, Knave!
THE KNAVE
On good authority; and his nobleness must oblige. His wife taketh up quarrel and
borrows, and they bespoil my rug.
WALTER
Marry, sir, my heartstrings do you tug;
They urinate upon thy damnèd rug.
[Exeunt severally]
1.3
[THE BIG LEBOWSKI’s castle. Enter THE KNAVE and BRANDT]
BRANDT
My lord is a man of accomplishment of many years, good traveling Knave; I pray you
examine these honours and colours, proof of life well-lived. See here, the key to an old
city, once defended against man and beast; and there, a commendation for men of
business, bestowed not by the twelvemonth but by the mettle of the man.
THE KNAVE
Is that the Queen I see before me, render’d in oil-paints?
BRANDT
Indeed that is Sir Geoffrey of Lebowski, attending the Queen in humble fealty, during her
blessèd reign; as Queen, I remind you, not as Princess.
THE KNAVE
Faith, an excellent tale.
BRANDT
I have not yet told all; indeed Sir Lebowski did counsel the King himself, it is said,
though, alas!, uncaptured in timely artistry.
THE KNAVE
A man of many faculties.
BRANDT
As many as capabilities, yet always one to boost his reach. Here you may glimpse a
record of his children.
THE KNAVE
A care-crazed father of a many children; it is a wise father that knows his own child. An
excellent list for a man of no doubt excellent issue.
BRANDT
An amiable jest! Nay, I’d call’d his children his, but they come not of his loins, thou
understand’st.
THE KNAVE
A cuckold, he?
BRANDT
A most subtle jest! Nay, but children of the inner city, of good promise, resolved to study
but without the means. My lord resolves that they will all attend the university.
THE KNAVE
Verily!—Mine own years in the university hath fled my memory, though I recall some
happy hours in the homes of various headmasters, the smoking of the pipe, breaking into
the armory, and playing at ninepins.
[Enter LEBOWSKI, on a cart. Exit BRANDT]
LEBOWSKI
Marry, sir!—You be Lebowski, I be Lebowski, ‘tis a wondrous strange comedy of errors.
But I am a man of business, as I imagine you are; tell me what you’d have me do for you.
THE KNAVE
Sir, I possess a rug, that, i’faith, tied the room together—
LEBOWSKI
You sent Brandt a messenger on horseback; he inform’d me. Where is my fitting?
THE KNAVE
They sought thee, these two gentlemen—
LEBOWSKI
I shall repeat; you sent Brandt a messenger on horseback; he inform’d me. Where is my
fitting?
THE KNAVE
Then thou art aware ‘twas thy rug, sir, that was the target of this crime.
LEBOWSKI
Was it I, sir, who urinated on your rug?
THE KNAVE
Not in person, sir—but if a man is his name, and his reputation his indelible inkstain,
surely thy sea of care is tormented; what tongue shall smooth thy name?
LEBOWSKI
Make me to understand, sir, for you are slow of speech as I of step, and I am unsatisfied
in motive. When any rug is micturated upon within these city walls, must I stand
accountable? Or are you as one of a thousand rogues, fishing for sixpence betwixt
another man’s pursestrings? Are you a labourer, Master Lebowski, earning that you eat,
getting that you wear?
THE KNAVE
Let me not to the marriage of false impressions deny impediments. I am not Master
Lebowski; thou art Master Lebowski. I am the Knave, called the Knave. Or His
Knaveness, or mayhap Knaver, or mayhap El Knaverino, in the manner of the Spaniard,
if brevity be not in thy soul nor wit. A Knave by any other name would abide just as well.
LEBOWSKI
Have you employment, sir? Surely you hope not to pledge fealty nor till the earth in such
roughly fashioned armour, invested in thy motley, clad as a jack-a-dandy on a Sunday?
THE KNAVE
I know not; what week-day, friends, is this?
LEBOWSKI
I tire, and cannot tarry; I am more busy than the labouring spider, and dwell on the iron
tread as a man of constant pursuits. Thus, I pray you, you this way and I that way.
THE KNAVE
I must protest; the Knave minds. This will not stand, this uncheck’d aggression; for your
strength of mighty kings and masters of the earth did not keep your wife from owing, a
borrower and a lender being.
LEBOWSKI
My wife is not the issue here. I toil in hopes that she will shed her frivolities, rash and
unadvised, and live within her allowance, which is in very ample virtue. Her mortal
failures are her burden, as surely as your rug is your burden, and, verily, the burdens of
every man be his own, and ‘tis in themselves that they be thus or thus. I’ll blame none for
the loss of my legs. Some man of Orient birth robbed them from me as spoils of war;
faith, who stole my legs stole trash, and I sallied forth and achieved in any aspect. Some
are born achievers, some achieve greatly, and some have achievement thrust upon ‘em.
Beseech me not!
THE KNAVE
Ah, a pox upon’t!
LEBOWSKI
Indeed! “A pox upon’t!” ‘Tis your answer to everything. Your merry revels have ended,
sir. Condolences. The rogues lost; the rogues have always lost, will always lose, and so it
will be tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
[Exit LEBOWSKI; enter BRANDT]
BRANDT
Good Master Lebowski. Did you enjoy meeting my honourable lord?
THE KNAVE
Truly, sir, a gentle marvelous;
He bade me take any rug in the house.
[Exeunt]
1.4
[Outside LEBOWSKI’s castle. Enter THE KNAVE (with a Persian rug) and BRANDT]
BRANDT
I pray you, Knave, remember us in future visitations.
THE KNAVE
Faith, surely when next I travel in this neighbourhood, I will call upon his lordship’s
good honour, and beseech his refreshment.
[Enter BONNIE LEBOWSKI and OLIVER]
BONNIE
[sings]
“With toe-nails of verdant and forester’s green
With a hey-nonny-no and a hey-nonny-nonny
Blow thrice on my toe-nails and I’ll be thy queen
And ever preserve me as thine, blithe and Bonnie.”
[to THE KNAVE]
I pray you, sir, blow.
THE KNAVE
Marry! But here’s a lady of good interest, whose toe-nails are the very green of the
common hump, where grass doth grow and where country lovers do foot. Whither shall I
blow, maid? For I am but a traveling tumbleweed, and may well be carried by any wind,
e’en south.
BONNIE
I mean only the wind in thine own maw in this case; blow, then, serve your turn and cool
my hot temper.
THE KNAVE
Sayst thou that I must blow upon thy foot, painted lady?
BONNIE
I ask this deed of you thrice now; and that which a damsel craves constantly is the service
of a tongue most moved in capability. Look to my foot; I cannot reach that far. Blow,
wind!
THE KNAVE
I fear thy charms. Will not thy consort mind
If I bestow his lady fair my wind?
BONNIE
Nay, there’s naught for which Oliver carest;
He mindeth not, for he’s a nihilist.
BRANDT
Our court’s noble guest must not tarry, Lady Lebowski.
THE KNAVE
Lady Lebowski? Then thou art Bonnie? A merry wife indeed!
BONNIE
And a lady of good housekeeping and agriculture besides, minded to economy and all
practicalities. Were thou to bring a gentle cock to mine bed-chamber, I might help him to
success for ten shillings.
THE KNAVE
Such a lady of talents I have scarcely seen.
BRANDT
Yes, a most forthright jest! Free of spirit and good generosity, she is the nimble nymph of
Neptune, and we mark her with good humour.
BONNIE
Free of spirit but ne’er free for flesh. Were I to regale thee with parts of my humour, I
would not bid Brandt hear the play ere he paid a shilling himself.
BRANDT
Hark, a marvelous jest; but, I pray you, we dare not tarry. Come, Knave.
THE KNAVE
Yea, I shall come, and then return with money,
Or lose the labour’d love of fair Bonnie.
[Exeunt]
1.5
[The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER (with a dog), and JACK SMOKE, to
play at ninepins]
WALTER
Thy tale is the stuff of dreams, and yet a waking dream of will. I had those words under a
spreading tree in Jerusalem.
THE KNAVE
An I were dreaming afore, I care not, but do I dream anew? What manner of beast
bringest thou to our nightly sport?
WALTER
Marry, ‘tis the remnant of a previous life’s nightly sport. That I was once a married man,
thou knowest well; that the Lady Cynthia was a great lover of dogs, thou know’st in
lesser degree; and the cur abandon’d has a tendency to dine upon chair-leg and oaken
table, most retrograde to my lady’s desire.
THE KNAVE
Thou speakest in riddles.
WALTER
It hath been my charge to attend this cur ere my Lady Cynthia return ashore from a
voyage to the islands, commanded by Sir Martin of Ackerman.
THE KNAVE
Thou bringest a cur to ninepins?
WALTER
I bring naught to ninepins. The dog is not attired by my hand to play at sport, nor do I
fetch it ale, nor shall he throw thy bowl-turn in thy stead.
THE KNAVE
Why, this is lunatics! This is mad as a mad dog! Were I a cuckold of such horn, and a
wench bade me mind her animal passions on maiden voyages, whilst men of lesser virtue
did swim in foreign waters and seek the isle within the brook, marry, I would cry out “Go
hang!”, and leave the cur to fall where he may. Canst she not board the beast with some
gentle farmer or country shepherdess?
WALTER
I pray thee, speak not of marriage; for here a man calleth vinegar the wine he hath not
himself imbibed.
The cur is one of consequence, admired
In circles of husbandry, with well-noted
Documentation of his qualities;
And if ‘twere spook’d, it might lose hide and hair.
The cur hath parchments—
THE KNAVE
Hark, now bowls Jack Smoke.
WALTER
Thou cross’st the line!
JACK SMOKE
Your pardon, noble sir?
WALTER
Thou cross’st the line, Jack Smoke, O cavalier,
As clearly demarcated in our rules,
In tumbling past the throw. ‘Tis play most foul.
JACK SMOKE
But see the pins struck down in fair play’s course!
Knave, mark thou mine eight pins; mark it eight.
WALTER
Not eight but l’ouef; you’ll mark it nought, O Knave,
And so we carry on to the next frame.
JACK SMOKE
Peace, Sir Walter!
WALTER
Smokey, this be not the foul jungles of the darkest East Orient. This be ninepins. We are
bound by laws.
THE KNAVE
Nay, Walter; the quality of mercy is hardly strain’d. But a fraction of his toe tripp’d over
the line, not God’s line but man’s. Of late I have read much of toe-nails, meaningful, I
grant thee, but of doubtable value. Suit the punishment to the action, and shame not
Smoke in sport.
WALTER
O unrightful judge!
This forfeiture is set in iron law
As drawn by great authority of league.
One roll might well determine that our side
Advance to glory; or be instead retired
As moss upon a tree-stump, while the Smoke
Drifts out to glorious summer. Canst thou hear
The call of robin redbreasts? If robin shall
Restore amends, we must serve justice
Here. Be I wrong?
JACK SMOKE
Yea, but—
WALTER
Be I wrong?
JACK SMOKE
Thy words are hard; I must equivocate.
Put up thy pen, that I may mark it eight.
WALTER
Nay! I do protest, and draw my sword;
It shall teach thee to disobey my word.
Mark none but none into that bowler’s frame,
Else thou shalt enter into a world of pain.
A world of pain, think upon’t; unhappy world!
A lake of fire, rich with damnèd souls,
Gulfs of anguish ‘twixt vales of agonies.
Mark me; we stand at twisted, jealous gates
Of cast-iron, above which, in vulgar tongue, reads
“Here is a world of pain, thou enterest thus.”
My steel before thee, ‘tis the last of keys
That might could lock these doors, and keep thee
From this world of pain, or with one flick
Ope its mashing maw, and summon winds
To cast thee down within; an excellent key!
Farewell to earthly delights, farewell to friends,
To fellowships and follies and amends.
The choice to spare thy passage through these trials
Is thine alone; take heed, I entreat thee,
And turn thy back upon this world of pain!
THE KNAVE
Walter, put up thy sword; tarry a moment.
WALTER
Hath this whole world been mired in madness?
Remain ye men of faculty complete,
Of full arithmetic and prudence fair,
Attending to our noble bond and contract?
Or does here stand the last remaining man
To give a fig for rules and order yet,
No noble savage, but a stave unbroken
Who loves the law and bids it no misdeed.
I’ll not be bent to lawlessness. Mark it nought, if we be men of honour.
THE KNAVE
Walter, too long we have tarried on public fields; the constable is notified. I pray you,
sheath thy piece.
WALTER
Mark it nought, else I’ll none.
JACK SMOKE
Good Sir Walter, speak with reason!
WALTER
Dost thou think I tarry idly? Mark it nought!
JACK SMOKE
Yea, I shall yield, and leave it to your pleasure.
Mark as thou wilt, in full and legal measure.
[Exit JACK SMOKE. WALTER sits]
THE KNAVE
In sooth, Walter, thou hast wounded me horribly.
Jack Smoke is cut of cloth alike my humour;
Peaceable men we, for peaceable times,
And Jack Smoke is a man of soft conscience.
WALTER
That he is conscious, I mark thee; I attend well.
In tender youth I dabbled in a course
To seek and hear moral philosophy.
Encount’ring pacifism on that road,
Though ne’er in Orient jungle, beshrew me; yet
I thought upon’t e’en on fields of war.
THE KNAVE
Thou markest that Jack Smoke hath woes of mind.
WALTER
Faith, beyond pacifism?
THE KNAVE
He is a man of fragility, sir, and like to shatter.
WALTER
“Like”; yet I mark not his fragile dust,
Nor saw him break, nor melt, nor cleave in two.
The heated moment passeth, river-tide
Below a bridge in Exeter. Speak, Knave,
Are we not victorious in our sport?
We progress as do rakes; or be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
No, thou speakest true—
WALTER
Be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
No, sir, thy speech is straight and true. But yet thou speakest not, for thou hast not spoken
but brayed, in the manner of an ass.
WALTER
Fair; then I am an ass; let it be writ down that I am an ass. Then, mark well; the Knave
and his partner, an ass, shall play again at ninepins in half a fortnight, their skills match’d
against Joshua Quince and Liam O’Brien. They worry me not; they shall be o’er-pushed
with certitude.
THE KNAVE
An we play again in seven days and seven nights, I pray you, be of good humour.
WALTER
“Be of good humour!” ‘Tis thine answer to everything.
Mark: thy peaceable nature, while conceiv’d
In upright spirit, meant for noble deeds,
May cited be by devils for their purpose.
Mark the Arab king in foreign land,
The base Mesopotamian, who lieth with steed.
Thou present’st to me a wall to hide behind
‘Twas born of truce in fear and frighten’d mind.
THE KNAVE
I pray you, be of good humour.
WALTER
I am as calm as still waters, Knave.
THE KNAVE
As steel waters, I’ll warrant; put up thy
Icy blade! Crack not gory tales of war!
WALTER
My calmness exceeds thine.
THE KNAVE
Be of ease, I pray you! Be of good cheer,
And let us not repeat what happen’d here!
WALTER
My calmness exceeds thine. But hark; here comes a visitor.
[Enter BRANDT]
BRANDT
All hail, good sir, honour’d Lebowski, hail!
‘Tis I, one Brandt by name, humble servant still
To he whose name you recognise so well.
Wilt thou tarry with me a moment? Nay—
Fear not—we care not for the rug.
By carriage I would bring you to his lordship
Secluded in his castle’s western wing,
Saith none to any man or good counsel,
Despondent to the last; thus I despair.
I call on thine assistance, gentle Knave.
THE KNAVE
Thou hast spoke plain, and I shall be thy guest.
Let us away to take Lebowski’s quest.
[Exeunt]
2.1
[LEBOWSKI’s castle. Flourish. Enter THE KNAVE, with LEBOWSKI on his deathbed]
LEBOWSKI
Behold stark irony of hours dark.
As night betakes my heart, I cast mine eyes
Back across a lifetime of achievement,
Of challenge met, competitors surmounted,
Of roguish mankind’s obstacles o’ercome,
Accomplish’d more than many dare to dream
In idle wishing; yet, remarkably,
Without the use of legs; these cursèd limbs
Imprison me from stature as a man.
But there’s the thing, I ask; what is a man?
Be it reason, his faculty, his pose?
His act or expression, his golden fire?
I’d hear your mind, Lebowski; if you would.
What maketh the piece of work of man?
THE KNAVE
Faith, a perplexing question; a man
Might answer true, but I remain no man.
I am a Knave, and thus unlike to know.
LEBOWSKI
Mayhap the measure of a man is found
Not in his store, his pelf, but in the storm
That tests him strong; the stabbing shocks of sin
That fix his courage to the post, and ask
If he be man, in times where men must stand
As Job was ask’d, or Jonah i’ the fish,
Ne’er to sit silent, but to be of parts.
If man be man, he wears the mantle well,
Prepared to stand upright—forgive my text—
In tests that render price no virtue deem’d.
THE KNAVE
That maketh a man, in sooth; an a man were to lack those two tests in cause betwixt his
stance, ‘twould be no man.
LEBOWSKI
You jest; but clowns can speak in truth. My reeling thoughts yearn for such simple
counsel.
THE KNAVE
I aim to smoke of the pipe, if that betides your lordship’s right good health.
LEBOWSKI
Behold my trappings and my suits of woe;
Alas for Bonnie! So loving to her, I;
She is the light broke forth through yonder window,
From which my life is seen anew, the Sun
And Moon in equal measures, shining thus
On souls starved sick for want of luminescence.
And now do women’s weapons, water-drops,
Stain my man’s cheeks; a marvel fair—
But do you take surprise to mark my tears?
THE KNAVE
Harking, nay. If wetness be the cost of love, weep on.
LEBOWSKI
O, it is excellent to have an achiever’s strength, but, curious, hath not a strong man a
strong heart? Nay—strong men also weep, the justice of the eyes severe, at once the
infant, mewing with a woeful ballad. Mark, a messenger did bring me dark counsel ere
noontime.
[He gives THE KNAVE the note]
THE KNAVE
I mark thee; ‘tis text of rags and tatters.
LEBOWSKI
It is a note of foul and odious tenor,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
Of cowardice and folly, not of men;
They who achieve not upon equal play
Nor even sign their names are scarcely men,
But weaklings, venial beggars, sinners all!
THE KNAVE
Most curious and monstrous note this is,
Announcing they have captured Bonnie fair,
And for her safe return we’d surrender
A thousand pounds in pieces broke in eight.
“Instructions following; no punning jests.”
A foul, contemptuous deed! I mark thy pain.
LEBOWSKI
Of dark and cruel misdeeds I do know well.
Sir Brandt shall make you known of the details.
[Enter BRANDT]
BRANDT
My lordship’s malady—unhappy hour!—
Forbids his action on this vilest act.
He seeks thy services as courier
To grant these thieves their ducats for their spoils
According to their wishes; thou would be
Offered a share in generosity.
THE KNAVE
Faith, a tempting offer; but wherefore doth his lordship seek my qualities?
BRANDT
He hath recall’d thy sorry episode
Of rugs besoil’d, and villains in the murk.
An viewing varlet visages might aid
In rendering them punishèd, he sayst
‘Twere best to have that knows the face of sin
And stands to tell the sexton that he sees.
THE KNAVE
Thou sayst his merry wife stands prisoner
Of those who were relieved upon my rug?
BRANDT
What may be true, I say not yes or no
Ere truth be found; in truth, we do not know.
[Exeunt severally]
2.2
[The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER and DONALD, to play at ninepins]
THE KNAVE
A strike, a very palpable strike! O, but Quince can roll straight and true.
WALTER
That he rolleth true, I cannot deny’t, but the man rolls not straight, for he is not a man to
stand upright. I have it on good authority that he is one of perversions. Two seasons has
he idled in prison for exposing his manhood to a pageboy.
THE KNAVE
My lands!
WALTER
When first he came upon the holy wood, he was made to stand in public gallows, and in
such great letters as they write “Here is good horse to hire”, it was signified on his sign,
“Here you may see a pederast.”
DONALD
What manner of man be a pederast, Sir Walter?
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Sir Donald.—Knave, what measure of moneys were thou offer’d?
THE KNAVE
Twenty pounds for mine own, and the matter of the rug forgiven. They may summon me
at any hour day or night.
WALTER
An they should call for thee in time of ninepins, and that would hang us.
DONALD
What is like to happen in time of ninepins, Sir Walter?
WALTER
Peace, miserable Donald; life will neither stop nor start at thy command.
THE KNAVE
My purse is as good as filled; here is money found with ease. I submit that the subtle lady
may well indeed be her own kidnapper.
DONALD
I’d know thy mind further, Knave.
THE KNAVE
This be not the traffic of hardened thieves,
Nor rug-pissers, nor ruffians o’ the night.
Look well upon a lady fair, so happy fair,
Who spurn’d her love for money, glitt’ring gold,
Where, much deprived of ample gifts and treats
Did scheme to steal a greater sum from some.
In owing much to much of men about
She sought devices to discharge her debt.
WALTER
O contemptible shrew!
THE KNAVE
As sure as what was said in Siberia;
“Look well to he whose benefit abounds
And knowest all,” as I have tried to say.
DONALD
I am flabbergasted, overbowl’d,
As clumsy and unsettled as a walrus.
WALTER
O pernicious shrew!
His wife’s a hobby-horse, deserves a name
As rank as any flax-wench.
DONALD
I be the walrus.
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Donald! Thy mind is Lenten.
The quality of wealth has sicken’d me.
An had I known that this would come to pass
(O vilest strumpet! Sinner! Painted whore!)
I might have tarried ere accepting service.
War in far-flung jungles, as my friends
Did die face-down in mire and muck and fens!
THE KNAVE
I see connection not in argument
‘Twixt Bonnie and the wars of Orient.
WALTER
‘Tis not connected literally, as rope,
But yet by stardust, thought-string, tears and hope.
THE KNAVE
Look well, my friend; there be no connection.
Take to thy roll, thy play for our selection.
[Enter JOSHUA QUINCE and LIAM O’BRIEN]
QUINCE
Hail, masters! I crave thine able readiness
To be dealt with roughly, as the Sodomites.
For men of sport have noted that our play
In semifinal hour draws on apace.
By Jove! I’ll wager well, Liam and me,
To thrash thee soundly at the fair tourney.
THE KNAVE
Yea, well, that be, forsooth, thy opinion, sir.
QUINCE
Well; but be forewarn’d. It reach’d mine ears
That combustible Walter, o’ercome with rage
Did shed good sense, and raise his sword in play.
I fear not such jade’s tricks, an seeing ill,
Would snatch the burden from the jealous knight
And pierce his gizzard with the wrongful steel,
Points up, as said of Coriolanus.
THE KNAVE
Zounds!
QUINCE
Thou speakest rightly, sir. No man misdeals with Joshua Quince, by Jesu.
[Exeunt QUINCE and O’BRIEN]
WALTER
Nay, fear him not, nor his unworthy joys.
Recall the tragic tale of the pageboys.
[Exeunt WALTER and DONALD]
THE KNAVE
Here I stand in sole on shrouded stage
To contemplate the ninepins; fitting sport
For men who serve to stand and then to fall.
But soft; a noise is heard. Hark! Who’s there?
Speak, if thou wouldst enter; I am no porter.
[Enter MAUDE LEBOWSKI and her VARLET, unidentified. They strike him, and exeunt]
THE KNAVE
Again I am injured; wherefore do I attract
The wrongful slings and arrows of the land?
Who was’t, mystery woman, craved my blood?
Who was’t struck my jaw for satisfaction?
The fireworks do city lanterns make
And soar I will, down staring with a smile
Upon the place beneath; and seen ahead,
A short-hair’d damsel rides a flying carpet
From Arabian legend; here falls the Knave.
In sooth, I’m weary. Let us have us a song.
‘Tis well; for I have song for such occasion,
Reminded to me by befevered dreams
Of man, and what doth maketh mannish mettle
And what fair woman’s task be in the battle.
[sings]
“The man in me would undertake brave tasks
With little recompense for which to ask.
In truth, Jove send a woman such as thee
Fain would discover true the man in me.”
[Exit]
2.2
[A bridge. Enter THE KNAVE and BRANDT (with a sack of money)]
BRANDT
The eightieth minute passes since their call,
Dispatch’d by emissary rough of speech.
So Knave, I charge thee, heed their every word
And obey all requests that they beseech.
Thy charge is simple: wait here all alone,
Let no man be companion to your quest.
They spoke with crystal clarity; I dare
Not tarry long, lest they think me your friend.
What fate befell thy jaw, m’lord?
THE KNAVE
No mind.
BRANDT
Then take these golden coins to leave behind.
Be wise and well, and heed the villains’ plans:
I tell thee that her life is in thy hands.
THE KNAVE
Sir, I attend.
BRANDT
My lord did beseech me repeat that; hark well that her life is in thy hands. Her life is in
thy hands, Knave; I will attend thy signal. Take pains. Be perfect. Adieu.
[Exit BRANDT]
THE KNAVE
By troth! A life in hands as rough as mine,
In hands design’d for dissolution harsh.
What doth a Knave awake at witching hours?
But soft. Look sharp. Here’s a strangeness indeed.
[Enter WALTER, with a satchel]
WALTER
Hail, good knave! I see you stand to linger.
Take of me this, I bring you here a ringer.
THE KNAVE
What devilry, sir? By whose direction found’st thou out this place?
WALTER
Hours at my store have I spent weighing the motives and sensations of this crime,
whirling like the dervish of faraway civilities, to catch how the case was clad. Here in this
satchel I have weighed out my mud-stained trousers, my dirty jerkins, foul French hose
and assorted motleys.
THE KNAVE
By my life, I see not why thou hast thy soiled vestments.
WALTER
We will not wait upon mine answer; for the answer is weight. It is for the fullness of our
pleasure that this very selfsame double look not empty, but in equal scale.
THE KNAVE
Is thy invention to call a hawk a handsaw?
WALTER
It came upon me to think, as if rising from a dream, wherefore it was our lot to settle for a
measly twenty pounds.
THE KNAVE
Wherefore the “we”, the “our” in this hour?
WALTER
We could well own the thousand pounds in thy grasp, with no man the wiser. Be I
wrong?
THE KNAVE
Yea, I’ll hazard all I have by it. At my word, Walter, this be not a jest.
WALTER
At thy word, Knave, ‘tis. Thou sayst she kidnapped herself.
[Enter several NIHILISTS, below, concealed]
NIHILIST
Who’s there? Stand and unfold yourself.
THE KNAVE
Speak! I come carefully upon the hour. Steer us by the evening star.
NIHILIST
“Us”? Hold thy tongue, or tongues if be ye two;
Your charge was to come in person only you.
THE KNAVE
Nay, I am one man, of several persons.
For each man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being two voices. Speak, friend!
WALTER
Knave, knowest thou the way to examine?
THE KNAVE
Peace, Walter! Thy presence does me ill.
Her life is in our hands; they’re like to kill.
WALTER
Naught is bespoil’d; thou art not acting in the manner according to a Knave. This above
all: to thine own self be true. Let him speak again.
NIHILIST
Hello there!
WALTER
Seest thou? Naught is bespoil’d. These rank villains are but amateurs.
NIHILIST
Be not rash, unadvised or sudden.
Knave, we shall proceed this time of meeting,
But do not feign, O witnesses above.
Toss down thy coin, to me bescreen’d in night.
WALTER
Pass me the ringer, Knave; we’ll hand it down.
THE KNAVE
I love thee, Walter, but thou art a fool.
[They throw down the ringer]
WALTER
Here is thy purse, varlets, thy cheated prize.
The money’s ours. Quick, Knave, thy chariot;
We’ll bowl in friendship ere the sun arise.
Look sharp! A pox upon’t, Knave; let us play at ninepins.
[Exeunt severally]
2.3
[The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE and WALTER, to play at ninepins]
THE KNAVE
What hast thou done, Walter? What will we tell
The big Lebowski, who loves his wife so well?
I trust thee not for scheme and subtle gore;
The first thing they do, they’ll kill the woman poor!
WALTER
Poor woman! Poor wench! You prattle on, O Knave!
Her captor and her self are the selfsame.
As so thou spake; and so still I believe.
She’s no abused victim, but a thief.
THE KNAVE
Thou heardst me wrong; I said in idle thought
She might have selfsame-stole; but whence the proof
And certitude thou hast to light this act?
What if thy certainty is all in vain?
Retain thy state and in consideration check
If majesty has fallen now to folly
In hideous rashness.
WALTER
I do assent
My certitude is one hundred per cent.
[Enter DONALD]
DONALD
The jousts and games of sport continue on;
The looming tourney plans are posted high
And stand recorded in this schedule writ.
WALTER
Donald, hold thy tongue—no, stay, I err.
When do they set our match of open air?
DONALD
Faith, we face Joshua Quince and the Irishman this very Saturday.
WALTER
Saturday! Unhappy fortune. Something was forgotten in the state of office. A calendar, a
calendar! Look in the almanac; find a date uncancell’d by destiny. What manner of fool is
he that scheduled this date? I did take pains to disclose my unavailability.
DONALD
Marry, ‘twas Burkhalter.
WALTER
A German, all slops, or low Dutch; thrice I made him to know that I roll not on Saturday.
DONALD
But posted it be; what’s done cannot be undone.
WALTER
They shall unpost it, by my life!
THE KNAVE
I care not, Walter—what of that poor woman?
WALTER
Peace, Knave; she will tire of her little game anon, and wander back in the manner of the
punished cur, tail between her legs.
DONALD
Wherefore thou playest not at ninepins on Saturday, Sir Walter?
WALTER
On our most holy Sabbath I am sworn
To keep tradition, form and ceremony.
The seventh and the last day rests the Jew;
I labour not, nor ride in chariot,
Nor handle gold, nor even play the cook,
And sure as Providence I do not roll.
Hath not a Jew rights? Hath not a Jew hands,
Organs, bowling-balls, Pomeranians?
If you schedule us, must you not do right?
If we step o’er the line, do we not mark it nought?
The Sabbath; I’ll roll not, God-a-mercy.
THE KNAVE
I’ll to my car; I must leave this place.
I tire of these arguments and japes.
DONALD
Stay, Knave; I’d hear of how ye handed off to criminals their accursed spoils.
THE KNAVE
There is naught to tell. All is lost. They did not get their money, and they will kill—
WALTER
Yea, they will kill the woman poor. Alack the day! They will kill the woman poor. Alas,
poor woman! They’ll kill her well.
DONALD
Walter, how dost thou proceed upon the Sabbath?
WALTER
Knave, I stand surprisèd, gall’d, gull-crack’d.
They will kill none, harm none, say none, do none.
Amateurs they, I’ll take it to my grave,
And all Lebowski’s money shall be thine. Be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
Walter, thou hast erred.
WALTER
Nay! For thou hast money in our car,
And they have taken linens mine afar!
My ragged hose bespoil’d, my dirty whites,
My breeches and my foulest-smelling tights!
THE KNAVE
Hark! Look now to where my ride was parked.
There it’s not; the space is free and dark.
DONALD
Prithee, Walter, who hath thy breeches?
THE KNAVE
Ruined! Poor stolen car in a dead man’s space.
My kingdom for a horse to catch these dogs!
The money, gone—mine only transport, gone—
They’ve robb’d me of that which enriches me
And left me poor indeed! Howl! Howl! Howl! Howl!
Call up the watch! O villainy, villainy!
O, I am fortune’s fool, lost all, lost all!
[Exeunt WALTER and DONALD; enter MAUDE]
THE KNAVE
You there, close-cropped woman all in green.
Be you shapes and tricks or vile apparition,
Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?
See you the shameful souls of stridence sick
Plunder’d my argosies most grievously?
MAUDE
Nay, poor clown, you remember me not.
By Maude Lebowski I am called in faith.
I came to you by night in this same place
To be revenged for your ill-gotten prize.
Your jaw was punch’d, your rug whiskèd in haste
Not hours after you had brought it home.
I’d have you be my guest in my abode,
My studio of arts, my academe.
THE KNAVE
Lo, the rug Lebowski gave to me?
Thou art the lady caused me injury.
So I’ll with you to see about my carpet,
And hope for fairer wind about my chariot.
[Exeunt]
3.1
[An artist’s studio. Enter THE KNAVE and MAUDE]
MAUDE
If by my art, my curious friend, I have
Put the wild notions in a roar, so be’t.
What think you on the female form, O Knave?
The woman’s part in me so gallantly
Manifests itself within in mine art
Commended by the wise as country work;
I paint only those of my own sex.
The very word is said to bother men,
Discomfort them, encircled in their ring.
It is the very painting of discomfort,
Two legs without a head. I say no thing.
THE KNAVE
I take no awkward pause, nor balk nor stare,
But only ask, askance, what art this is.
I see no ring to mar if I would kiss’t,
But only oily painting I might stain.
The Knave deciphers nothing in its image;
Thy work has made a nihilist of me.
MAUDE
In faith, the art is only what you will,
And if the word can poison not your ear
Then you’re in luck; some men of lesser stuff
Dislike to hear it, dare not speak its name.
Whereas without a flicker of his eye
A man might speak of King Richard the Third,
Or pose an idle sonnet on his rod,
Or praise the wit of his selfsame Johnson.
THE KNAVE
As Benjamin Jonson, lady?
MAUDE
Let us speak plain and to the purpose. My father bade you take the rug, but that you chose
was, in faith, a gift of me to my departed mother, the happiest gift that ever marquess
gave, and thus not his to make a rich and precious gift of. But trifles, trifles; let us speak
of this supposed kidnapping. It hath the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever
offended nostril.
THE KNAVE
Permit me to explain about the rug—
MAUDE
What cares have you, Lebowski, upon love?
THE KNAVE
Alack, lady, thy question does me vex.
MAUDE
The physicality of making love;
I’d have you tell me if you like it well.
A myth persists on women of my stripe,
That our body politic renders us in hate
Of acts of love; a most injurious lie.
The enterprise can have in it much zest.
But men who walk with satyrs in the morn
And women swimming nightly ‘twixt the nymphs
Are punished by Oberon for sin
And do the deed compulsively engaged,
Sans joy, sans love, sans everything.
THE KNAVE
Prithee nay!
MAUDE
So damn’d a soul is Bonnie; I have heard
That lustful creatures sitting at a play
Have by the cunning language of the scene
Been struck so to the soul that presently
They have proclaim’d their infatuations.
I’ve had these players make their show for you;
Suiting the action to the word indeed.
It shall be called “Log Jamming”, because
It hath bared bottom; but hark—the players.
So please your grace, the Prologue is addressed.
[Enter OLIVER as the PLAYER KARL HUNGUS, BONNIE as the PLAYER WHORE and
a PLAYER QUEEN]
PLAYER QUEEN
Two women, both alike in beauty,
In fair Verona where we lay our scene,
From broken cable break to new nudity,
Where civil breasts touch civil hands unclean.
The which if you Jaques Treehorn’s play attend,
What this fine miss and whore shall strive to mend.
THE KNAVE
She hath rid her prologue like a rough colt.
MAUDE
Such riding you will see the like of, so as to form the beast with two backs. But hark;
here is the poor player that struts and frets to play Karl Hungus upon the stage.
OLIVER
I rode to thee dispatched with all speed.
The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost.
THE KNAVE
Marry, I know that man; he is a nihilist.
MAUDE
And is her face familiar to you;
Familiar and by all means vulgar?
BONNIE
Knock, knock! Never at quiet. Here’s a man of repair; I should have old turning his key.
Hark to my noble kinswoman, here to travail in a shower brought up by a tempest of the
soul.
PLAYER QUEEN
Hast thou, traveler, perform’d to mend the cable that she bade thee?
MAUDE
This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
THE KNAVE
I wonder if he be to fix the cable.
MAUDE
Be not fatuous, Geoffrey. It matters not
A fig to me if Bonnie be a whore,
Nor that she courts the merry Jaques Treehorn,
To use the happy parlance of our times.
But our good name Lebowski is such stuff
As dreams are made on for a host of youth
Whose education our foundation builds,
And proud we are indeed of all of them.
My father stole much money from these babes
To pay the thieves to purchase back his wife,
The fornicator, devilry-compulsed,
Hath took my father on her sinful ride.
As for thy rug, I charge thee with a task;
My father’s crime too loathsome for police,
His scandal being ruinous to our name,
I bid thee find the money that thou pass’d
These villains and return it to my keep;
I’ll pay thee handsomely in fine reward
That thou canst purchase any rug thou wilt.
THE KNAVE
The task is right in purpose and in law,
But wherefore didst thou crack me on my jaw?
MAUDE
Pardons, good Geoffrey. I know of a learned doctor who wilt examine thee. Thou wilt
receive no bill. He is an honourable man, and thorough.
THE KNAVE
Thy thought is kind.
MAUDE
See the doctor, he’s honourous and thorough;
After thou returnst to thy good borough.
[Exeunt severally]
3.2
[Upon the road. Enter THE KNAVE, sipping a White Russian; opposing, enter BRANDT
and LEBOWSKI (on his cart)]
LEBOWSKI
Speak, and speak quickly, foul vagrant!
THE KNAVE
I beseech ye, there is a beverage here.
BRANDT
Our attempts to reach thee have been frantic and numerous, Knave.
LEBOWSKI
Whither my money? They did not receive the money. Thou liest, thou shag-haired
villain! Thou odious maggot! Her life was in thy hands!
BRANDT
Verily, this be our concern, Knave.
THE KNAVE
Pray, naught is bespoil’d here—
LEBOWSKI
Naught is bespoil’d? Zeus’ noble chariot hath crashed into yonder mount!
THE KNAVE
We, forsooth, the “we” of royalty,
Did drop the money as instructed hence.
But certain things revealed to breaking light,
Occurring not to ye; of nature such
That blaming me will win ye not the lass.
LEBOWSKI
No more; the text is foolish. What are these
New things you prattle of, O blith’ring fool?
THE KNAVE
I speak of information borne anew!
I blither of the new stuff come to light!
Know ye she kidnapped herself? ‘Tis true!
A lady happy fair, spurn’d, thou knowest,
In the parlance of our time, ne’er borrower
Nor lender be, to known nymphs and satyrs;
Yet I am well, I am well. She must feed
A wilderness of monkeys; occurr’st that?
LEBOWSKI
In faith, Master Lebowski, it occurr’d not.
BRANDT
It had not occurr’d to us, Knave.
THE KNAVE
That it occurr’st not to ye, I forgive, for ye be privy not to the new stuff; that is why I am
charged. As such, might we speak of settling accounts? Mine equerry feareth for mine
excises.
LEBOWSKI
Present to him the worst and least wholesome envelope, Sir Brandt.
[BRANDT gives the envelope to THE KNAVE; within, a toe]
O Knave! Since thou hast failed to achieve
The brief and modest task that was thy charge,
Stolen my pelf, and still betray’d my trust,
I’ve told these varlets thou hast took their prize,
Encouraged them to seize their bond from thee.
With good Sir Brandt as witness to my vow
I promise thee that any harm to Bonnie
Shall visit tenfold time upon thy head.
Ope thy parcel, sinner! See her toe,
Chopp’d off from her and still bepainted green.
Now it is said; ‘tis all thou needs must know—
For I will not abide another toe.
[Exeunt severally]
3.3
[A tavern near the bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE and WALTER]
WALTER
My lord, I do deny it is her toe.
THE KNAVE
Whose toe be it, if not my lady’s toe?
WALTER
Vexatious problem that, but not of heft.
There’s naught to indicate the lady’s harm’d.
THE KNAVE
The fresh green paint of fair Miss Bonnie’s nail!
WALTER
Marry, sir, nail-painting, rugs and urine.
A man may paint the white toe green, tell her,
Paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come.
THE KNAVE
And where might a man fetch a toe?
WALTER
O toe!
Thou wouldst have a toe? A toe can be obtain’d.
Ways are known, Knave. Thou wilt not like to hear.
I’ll have a toe for thee this afternoon
Ere singeth cockerel at three o’clock.
These amateurs would have us soil’d with fear.
THE KNAVE
They’ll kill her, Walter, ere they turn on me.
WALTER
Thy stress is great, my friend; thy reason not;
This be a string of crime-craft victimless.
THE KNAVE
But thou hast not explain’d the cursèd toe!
WALTER
I pray you, think no more upon the toe!
[Enter MISTRESS QUICKLY]
MISTRESS QUICKLY
I remind thee, sirs, to acquire and beget a temperance that may give thy voices
smoothness, trippingly on the tongue. This tavern be a place of family business.
WALTER
Nay! The Courts considered prior restraint
And smote it thus; I’ll speak my chosen piece.
MISTRESS QUICKLY
If patience cannot calm thy storm forthwith
Fain would I bid thee leave my tavern-door.
[Exit MISTRESS QUICKLY]
WALTER
My friends did die face-down in mire and muck
That you and I might trade within these walls.
THE KNAVE
Nay, I’ll none; I take my leave without.
[Exit THE KNAVE]
WALTER
Knave, prithee stay! This doth affect our tale!
Our freedom’s base! I’m finishing my ale.
[Exit]
3.4
[THE KNAVE’s house. THE KNAVE is in his bath]
THE KNAVE
I am conducted to a gentle bath.
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this Knave
Clean from the land?
[Alarums. Enter OLIVER and the two NIHILISTS, bearing a marmot]
Forsooth! This be a place
Of residence, and much a private place.—
O excellent marmot!
OLIVER
Anon, we crave the money, Lebowski.
We speak in neither jest nor fallacy.
We could do such stuff as dreams do feature,
Believing in nothing; empty and void.
Tomorrow if thou hast not the ransom
We shall recourse, and cut off thy Johnson.
[Exeunt severally]
3.5
[The tavern at the bowling green; enter THE KNAVE, WALTER and DONALD, to sit at
the bar]
THE KNAVE
My car is found, but treasure none within’t,
Although the constable has sworn to find’t.
My inquiries of leads led him to mirth
As if my misery and woes to scorn.
O piteous Knave!—My only hope remains
That in his anger, the Lebowski big
Kills me ere these Germans cut my lance.
WALTER
Ridiculous, good Knave. Thou knowest well
That no man makes thee eunuch while I live.
Naught hath changed; these German swine are cruel,
Three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses,
Mere usurpers, tyrants and what’s worse.
DONALD
Were’t they tyrants, Knave?
WALTER
They meant to geld the lily, Sir Donald!
Split never hairs tonight. Or be I wrong?
THE KNAVE
Nay; not tyrants. Nihilists to a man.
They believe in nothing; nothing will come of’t.
WALTER
Nihilists! I am beshrewn. Say what thou wilt
Of fascist tenets, Knave; it seeks to stand
Philosophy and politic, not void.
And let it noted be that wildlife kept,
Amphibious rodent, in domestic walls,
Is retrograde to right and civil laws.
THE KNAVE
Art thou a forester? A woodcutter yet, or shepherd of the flock? Who cares a fig for
th’accursed marmot?
WALTER
I speak only to sympathise, Knave.
THE KNAVE
I need no sympathy, no emotion.
That I need is only my Johnson.
DONALD
Wherefore needest thou thy Johnson, Knave?
WALTER
Be of good cheer, friend. Wouldst thou enter the tourney so sad?
THE KNAVE
A pox upon the tourney! And thee, Walter!
I might have escaped this with few pains
But for the shock of stench upon my rug.
Now I am cursed with damages tenfold
In seeking counsel from so great an ass.
WALTER
“A pox upon the tourney,” he declares.
Come, then, Donald; we’ll leave him as he fares.
[Exeunt WALTER and DONALD]
THE KNAVE
O, that mine two, two solid friends would leave
Me to resolve myself on what to do.
Two noble kinsmen, nay?—Another ale.
Why, then, the Russian White my only drink;
Let’s drink together friendly and embrace.
[Enter the CHORUS]
CHORUS
What sayst thou, Mistress Quickly? Hast thou a goodly beverage, brewed of sarsaparillaroot?
MISTRESS QUICKLY
[without]
As brewed in the city of the base Indian.
CHORUS
Ay, there’s a good one. How fares the Knave?
THE KNAVE
So foul and fair a day I have not seen.
CHORUS
Such a day, I mark thee, whereupon the winter of our discontent is ne’er made glorious
summer. A gentleman wiser than myself did say that on some such days, thou exits,
pursued by a bear, and on others, the bear exits, pursued by you.
THE KNAVE
By my troth, a good philosophy. Was’t of the Orient?
CHORUS
Nay, far from it. I mark well thy fashion, good Knave.
THE KNAVE
And I thy fashion, stranger.
CHORUS
Many thanks.
If I may crave a boon, may I request
That thine ungracious mouth be less profane,
Spoke less in cursing word, and more in craft?
THE KNAVE
What dost thou speak upon, O damned fool?
CHORUS
I jest; well-spoken, Knave. Be of good ease;
Exeunt now, the tumbling tumbleweeds.
[Exeunt]
3.6
[MAUDE’s studio. Enter THE KNAVE and MAUDE, with KNOX HARRINGTON]
THE KNAVE
What manner of man is this pilgrim strange,
Who sits upon my lady’s couch and laughs
As if in private humour of his own.
What is thy trade; what secret craft is thine?
KNOX HARRINGTON
You know. ‘Tis nothing much to look upon,
Matters of no import. A bit of this;
A little bit of that; O, how I laugh!
MAUDE
Geoffrey, thou hast not seen doctor skill’d
Whose studio I asked thee to attend.
Hast thou heard news of money yet recouped?
THE KNAVE
In sooth, I must confess I was waylaid
And fear I must resign the charge at hand;
Oliver hath persuaded me to rest.
MAUDE
He is a hired player and a fool,
An actor poor, unexcellent musician,
Who’d play abductor for this fiendish plot.
Thou knowest well this woman is in health,
No more a victim than she mother’d me.
THE KNAVE
This case perplexes me in complex course,
With many ins and many outs and strands.
KNOX HARRINGTON
Most mirthful! I’ll titter thus upon’t.
THE KNAVE
Beshrew me, who is this gentleman, Maude? What manner of man be he, to parlay in thy
parlour?
MAUDE
Knox Harringon, the tapestry artist. Geoffrey, thou hast not seen the doctor, and I fear for
thy bruise.—Enter, doctor!
[Enter DOCTOR BUTTS]
MAUDE
I would not be to blame for pains delay’d.
And yea, he is an honourable man, and thorough.
Examine him, good doctor, as thou wilt.
DOCTOR BUTTS
Do slide thy shorts down, Master Lebowski.
THE KNAVE
‘pon my life, I was stricken on the jaw.
DOCTOR BUTTS
I understand; but thou must slide thy shorts.
MAUDE
Come, Geoffrey. While the good doctor examines,
I’d have a song, if it pleases thee.
THE KNAVE
[sings]
“Imagination setteth in
To maketh man to wish to sing,
Hey-nonny-no, looking out my back door;
Bother me tomorrow
For today I buy no sorrows.
Hey-nonny-no, looking out my back door.”
[Exeunt severally]
4.1
[A playhouse. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER and DONALD, to hear the PLAYERS]
WALTER
Come, Knave; I’d hear the balance of thy tale.
Inside thy car didst thou detect some trace
By villains left, who deprived it of goods?
No ghost of guilt, identity betray’d
By careless thieves who cover’d not their tracks?
THE KNAVE
I found a document, so roughly writ
It troubled me to make good sense of it.
Of school-days’ friendship, childhood innocence,
A paper writ in study by some churl
Of youth not born under a rhyming planet.
‘Twas lesser verse composed and badly hewn,
Concern’d the King of France, and purchased land,
And though I am a weakish speller, I
Detected errors mark’d throughout in hand
Of headmaster despair’d, in ink so red
At first the Knave had thought that he had bled.
WALTER
In faith, I will examine me this text
And see if by its hand its maker’s traced.
Hark; here’s the name of its rude author,
One Laurence Sellers, living in the north.
He liveth near a tavern, in and out
Reputed for the searing of beefsteak.
DONALD
Those be fine beefsteaks, Walter.
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Donald; I’ve not said all.
The varlet is a youth whose father stands
A titan in the world of hired players,
A playwright, Arthur Digby Sellers call’d.
His plays renowned throughout the continent,
Bulk of the series, Knave, and no lightweight.
How tragic that his son doth prove a dunce!
An north we proceed, once concluded be
The merriment of this performance piece—
DONALD
Then might we dine on beefsteaks, in and out?
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Donald, I pray thee; thou art a great eater of beef, and I believe that
does harm to thy wit. Yea, we shall brace the kid; he shall be o’er-pushed with certitude.
We shall take what moneys he hath not spent, and yea, we shall be near the place of good
repute, to feast on beefsteaks, have some ales and merry jests. Our troubles be over,
Knave.
[Exeunt]
4.2
[Outside a castle in the north. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER and DONALD]
THE KNAVE
Alack! Regard this finest car without;
The child hath spent the bulk of money mine
On yon conveyance, like a corvette ship
To sail on simpler waters than I swim.
WALTER
Not so; such goods seem costly, but in sooth,
The vehicle’s but three or four percent
Of all thy gains ill-gotten that may stand,
Depending on the trappings. Donald, hold;
We’ll speak with young Laurence, and circle swift.
Ho, squire Laurence! Reveal thyself and chat.
[Enter LAURENCE]
WALTER
Thy father suffers problems with his health
And writes no more—a shame on it, say I,
For on a level personal his works
Were muse to me; I was a man to love
The early episodes birth’d of his quill.
Thou art a writer, Laurence, as I’ve read,
Though one of orthography correctèd.
[He raises the document]
Thou art a lad of years mayhap fifteen,
At once a lad and coming to a man
Who’s wise, I trust, to welcome not police,
Constabulary actions being harsh.
Is this thy parchment, Laurence? Tell me true.
Is this thy parchment, Laurence? Tell me plain.
THE KNAVE
Be quick, Sir Walter! Ask of chattels bought.
Ask if that fine corvette without be his.
WALTER
Is this thy parchment, Laurence? Home-work thine?
THE KNAVE
We know that well, Sir Walter! His it be!
Whither the money, varlet, mewling spawn?
WALTER
Demand him nothing. What we know, we know.
From this time forth he never will speak word.
Hark, Laurence, hast thou studied of a place
Of Orient jungles?
THE KNAVE
Walter, prithee nay!
Zounds, Sir Walter! No more talk of this.
WALTER
Youth, thou art entering a world of pain.
We know this document is home-work thine,
And that thou stealest cars—
THE KNAVE
And monies too!
WALTER
And monies, and this is thy home-work, boy.
Wherefore silence? What impudence is this?
Thou art killing thy father, Laurence! O!
This hath no end; he never will speak word.
I take thy parchment back, and turn to plans
Of secondary contingence. Look well.
Behold thy car, the corvette, crimson-stain’d,
And see what befalls sinners evermore.
[He raises his sword, and smites the car]
This befalleth when thou firk’st a stranger ‘twixt the buttocks, Laurence! Understand’st
thou? Dost thou attend me? Seest thou what happens, Laurence? Seest thou what
happens, Laurence? Seest thou what happens, Laurence, when thou firk’st a stranger
‘twixt the buttocks?!
[Enter CLOWN]
This be what befalleth, Laurence! This be what befalleth, Laurence!
CLOWN
What hast thou wrought, thou man of province strange?
The corvette be my purchase yester-week;
Alas! My car, admired, baby mine.
My car hath shuffled off this mortal coil.
WALTER
Marry, an honest blunder; I knew this not to be thine.
CLOWN
I maketh thee to shuffle off this mortal coil, man! Nay, I’ll be revenged in proper
recompense, suiting the punishment to the action, the action to the punishment; I maketh
thy car to shuffle off this mortal coil!
[He raises his sword, and smites THE KNAVE’s car]
THE KNAVE
No! Thou hast trespass’d wrongly; that be not Sir Walter’s conveyance, but mine own!
CLOWN
I maketh thy car to shuffle off this mortal coil! I maketh thy accursed car to shuffle off
this mortal coil!
DONALD
Faith! I sit within, and cringe in fear;
What fools these mortals be that tarry here!
[Exeunt]
4.3
[The castle of JAQUES TREEHORN. Enter THE KNAVE]
THE KNAVE
Here I stand on quarters unfamiliar,
A pad of land of quality unspoil’d,
Having dined on beefsteak on the journey
In and out; and whereupon Sir Walter
Tender’d his apologies remorseful,
Hoping that I might have made it home,
Wond’ring still if Laurence may have crack’d.
Upon my homeward coming I was met
Harshly by these ruffians of note
Who’ve trafficked in my house; I like them not.
[Enter BLANCHE and WOO]
BLANCHE
Again we meet, Lebowski, who thou art;
And yea, we know of which Lebowski art
Thy deadbeat frame.
WOO
So do attend, O sprite;
Thou dealest not with fools this wicked night.
[Exit BLANCHE and WOO. Flourish. Enter JAQUES TREEHORN]
JAQUES TREEHORN
Good Knave, my thanks for travels thou hast made;
By Jaques Treehorn I am called in name.
I bid thee welcome to my humble home
And beg thee take a beverage of thy choice.
THE KNAVE
The brew of whitest Russia I would sip
If thou hast rum. How fares thy working trade?
JAQUES TREEHORN
A playwright and theatre-man am I,
With tendrils dipp’d in lakes of many stripes,
In printed words, in dumb-show and in court.
THE KNAVE
Which be “Log Jamming”?
JAQUES TREEHORN
Thou readest my regret;
The playhouse is a place of disrepair.
When rude mechanicals may gather nights
To play in interludes most amateur,
We cut the very wheat from our fair crop
And make poor sport of spectacle and tale,
With no more tears in the performing of’t.
Thy brain hath in the function of its power
The zone where faith is firmly fix’d in love,
Richer than all thy tribe in other parts.
THE KNAVE
On thee, mayhap.
JAQUES TREEHORN
The brightest heaven of invention
May yet compass wonders fit for devils
In greatest fair effects of future hopes.
Such plays may well transport us all beyond
This ignorant present.
THE KNAVE
Faith, an excellent dream;
But I still read Ben Jonson manually.
JAQUES TREEHORN
Ay, there’s the rub. I pray thee, Knave, to hear
The purpose of my night’s invitation
As brought thee to my seat. Where is Bonnie?
THE KNAVE
O irony; I thought that thou couldst know.
JAQUES TREEHORN
My mind is slate and sky-dark; the lady
Only ran off to flee her debt to me,
A bond, a sizable bond.
THE KNAVE
But she ran not!
JAQUES TREEHORN
I know thy troubles, Knave, the tangled web
Woven upon the practice to deceive.
An thou robbest her husband, I care not.
How goes the world, that I am thus encountered
With clamorous demands of broken bonds
And the detention of long-since-due debts?
THE KNAVE
Well spoke; but sir, there many facets be.
The parties of interest are of scope
And multitude in number. What’s for me,
What of the Knave, if he retains thy gold?
JAQUES TREEHORN
The tenth part of the plunder shall be thine;
But drink thou from thy goblet, ere it warms.
THE KNAVE
I’ll drink your health, good Jaques, as a friend
For greatly is thy jib-cut most admired.
The Knave carouses to thy fortune, Treehorn.
But hark! O venom! What betides my drink,
That makes me swoon? The drink. I am poisoned.
The treacherous White Russian in my hand.
[He falls]
And all the Knave e’er wanted was his rug
As spoken of, which tied the room together.
Look sharp! Darkness overtakes the Knave,
Of blacker shade than cattle’s secret parts
On moonless nights in Devonshire. I fall.
It hath no bottom, not this taste of sin;
I drop to see condition that I’m in.
[Exeunt severally]
4.4
[THE KNAVE’s house. Enter THE KNAVE]
THE KNAVE
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it
was. Methought I waked to find I could be bound in a satchel of infinite space, only to
trip upon a cloud, to fall eight miles high and tear my mind on a jagged sky. Most
peculiar.
Then was I found by night-watch constable,
Who liked my jerkin not, and told me thus,
And cast me from his beach community.
And eagles gazed upon with every eye;
And O, I hate the cursèd eagles, man.
[Enter MAUDE]
It is my lady friend, it is my love.
MAUDE
Come, thou spirit that tends on mortal thoughts,
Come lie with me under the greenwood tree
And know the heat of a luxurious bed
And in our faults by lies we’ll flattered be.
THE KNAVE
My Maude is now the queen of special ladies,
Attired in a robe that is mine own.
[They kiss, and lay down]
MAUDE
Speak of thyself, O Geoffrey, while we sleep.
THE KNAVE
Let me present my life-time as a Knave,
Though little stands to tell; but tarry soft.
I’d tell thee how, in youth, I did author
A statement in Port Huron, ere the turn
When it emerg’d in compromised draft.
Or how, in fair Seattle, I and six
Were charg’d conspirators against the King;
Yea, that was me; and sixfold other men.
I turn’d attention briefly to the lute
And fife, and tour’d with men of speed and sound,
Who asses were; now I do nothing much,
Mayhap a bit of this, a bit of that.
I play at ninepins on the village green
And tour the town, and think on wilder days.
My house is sacked by Jaques Treehorn’s men
Who thought to seek thy father’s money here;
A case of great complexity we glimpse,
With many ins and outs, as I have said.
[MAUDE arranges herself upon the floor]
MAUDE
The money’s the foundation’s, not the man’s.
My father hath no money of his own;
The wealth was his inheritance to tend
And pompously he claims it as his crop.
O vanity of Father! Fierce extremes
Of personality he built so as to seem
The wide world’s emperor; and hence the whore,
So purchased as to sate his glory-thirst.
THE KNAVE
Wherefore thy strange position on the floor?
MAUDE
I crave a young conception in my womb,
And seat me thus to better take thy seed.
THE KNAVE
Increase thy chance of bearing me a child?
But I a father poorly made would be!
MAUDE
Nay, I seek no partner in this babe;
I love thee not, therefore pursue me not.
Our comedy ends not with marriage-bed,
I’ll live unpartner’d, and unbotherèd.
THE KNAVE
Marry! Then thou wouldst have a child of bastard blood, without a father, as thou thyself
might well have wished to have no father; but now I think upon thy father, and lo, new
stuff doth come to light breaking forth. My thinking on thy sorry case had become most
up-tightened, and I am altogether govern’d by humours. Quickly, away! I must to Sir
Walter.
[Exeunt]
4.5
[The road. Enter THE KNAVE]
THE KNAVE
I wait upon the coming of Sir Walter
Who, on my dispatch, flew him to emerge
That we might seek the Castle of Lebowski
And right these monstrous wrongs ere evensong.
[Enter BROTHER SEAMUS]
Who’s there?
BROTHER SEAMUS
Be still! I’ll harm thy person not.
‘Tis I, the Brother Seamus, Irish monk—
A man the finer having seen thee work,
A snitch and snoop for private clientele,
A dirk; a man who seeketh for to find.
THE KNAVE
That’s well; but keep thee from my lady friend.
BROTHER SEAMUS
I never tempted her with word too large;
I knew her not thy special lady fair.
THE KNAVE
She’s not my special lady but my friend;
I help’d her swell her womb. Who hired thee?
Art thou a servant of Lebowski state,
Or Jaques Treehorn, or some goblin damned?
BROTHER SEAMUS
I travel on the charge of sons of knights,
A job of wand’ring daughters from the north.
The lady Bonnie’s falsely bonny bred.
Her name be Fawn, a girl of Moorhead born,
Whose parents wish her back with broken hearts;
This past twelvemonth she fled the family farm
And I’m to show her paintings of the land.
THE KNAVE
The lady’s love for paint is plain to see,
But she hath seen Karl Hungus, and is like
To not exchange it for pastoral life.
BROTHER SEAMUS
Alack the day! O fairest damsel lost!
It is a false steward that steals a master’s daughter.
Mayhap we might our slim resources pool,
Exchange our facts in noble courtesy,
In friendship and professionality.
THE KNAVE
Nay, for thou art none the finer man.
Away, sirrah; my ride approacheth nigh.
And stay away from special lady mine,
Or lady friend, as I would have it writ.
[Exit BROTHER SEAMUS; enter WALTER (with dog)]
WALTER
Thy messenger decreed emergency
And so I broke my vows of Sabbath pure,
For this the holy day of resting be
For gentle Jews; now state thy purpose, Knave.
THE KNAVE
We must away to old Lebowski’s house
To press him on the matter of this case.
We botch’d his payoff to the villains vile
That night, and in his anger, though he yell’d,
He visited no harm upon my head
Nor render’d my weak body punishèd.
WALTER
Mayhaps the gentle soul’s catharsis lay
In shouting at thee.
THE KNAVE
Nay; a game’s afoot.
He knows I am a fool; I do agree,
But why wouldst he me charge to save his wife?
Methinks the man despised his lady fair
And plotted ill to profit from her loss
And in his sinning sought to make a show.
I’ll tell thee this; he gave me no true gold
Nor jewels, nor any treasure of accord
To toss the thieves; nor effort has he made
To have of me the haul from him I stole.
Methinks the money that we thought was lost
Was never thus, but weight like laundries thine:
Our ringer was a ringer for the same
In odious Lebowski’s rotten game.
WALTER
I mark thee, and pay tribute to thy wits,
Deduction noble made, but all the same
Must query quick the nature of this crime
That leads me out of doors on Sabbath eve.
THE KNAVE
Sir Walter, prithee cease; thou art no Jew.
Of Papists born in Poland was thy line.
WALTER
Thou knowest I converted ere I wed
The Lady Cynthia.
THE KNAVE
But that is past;
Five twelvemonths cross’d the sky since thou were wed.
WALTER
‘Tis true, I have in oath and court of law
Made a divorce betwixt Cynthia and me,
But doth equivocation turn a heart?
When justice calls a Jew into the court
Must not a Jew emerge? Is he anew?
May I no more of libraries borrow,
Or push my cart, or be my selfsame man?
The Hebrew turns not Christian; he is rock.
THE KNAVE
Thy sickness for fair Cynthia is sad;
Thou carest for her cur, though are not wed,
And still her synagogue thou dost attend.
Thou livest in the most accursed past.
WALTER
Forsooth! Three thousand years of history,
Traditions beauteous from Moses on:
Thou speakest damnèd truth, and speakest well,
I am a man to live in bygone past!
But let’s away; the big Lebowski waits,
And fate rewards no man who hesitates.
[Exeunt]
5.1
[LEBOWSKI’s castle. Flourish. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER and BONNIE]
THE KNAVE
Look well on Bonnie, something like the sun.
She hath been in her cups, and singing brave
Converting all her sounds of woe into
Hey-nonny-nonny; hark.
BONNIE
Long live the city of the meadows! Let us have a song.
[sings]
“But when I came to Lebowski estate
With hey, ho, the fountain doth rain
I usèd my car to batter the gate
For the Knave abideth every day.
And when I came, alas! to wive
With hey, ho, the fountain doth rain
By swaggering could I constantly thrive
For the Knave abideth every day.”
[Exit BONNIE; enter BRANDT]
BRANDT
Thine eyes deceive thee not; the lady lives,
No longer vanishèd; what’s lost is found.
She left to see the palmer at the springs
And told no man that she would go away.
Good Knave, I pray thee, bother not my lord,
For he is angry; prithee, who is this?
WALTER
I’ll tell thee who I am; a veteran, I,
A soldier of the honour-giving field
Of mire and muck and fens; we’ll have thy lord.
[Exit BRANDT; enter LEBOWSKI on his cart]
LEBOWSKI
Beshrew me! That my door be darken’d thus
By this foul cheat who found me not my bride.
THE KNAVE
Whither the money, Lebowski?
WALTER
A thousand pounds from young achievers robb’d!
O rude and vilest villain! Coward cursed!
A most notable coward of no quality
Whose tongue outvenoms all the worms of Nile.
Thou art as loathsome as a toad, thou vice,
A bolting-hutch of beastliness, thou mite,
Thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool!
LEBOWSKI
Thou hast thy history and I have mine.
I say that thou hast stole my thousand pounds.
WALTER
O wound! I wouldst not dream to filch thy wealth.
THE KNAVE
Thou art a villain, human parakeet!
Thou thought thy wife vanish’d, and thought it well!
Thou hadst met me and thought my mettle right
To be thy pawn, a man of ill repute
Who circles not amidst men of good square,
That thou might use to shuffle gold about.
LEBOWSKI
Well? Art thou not a man of no regard,
A greasy tallow husk of failèd flesh?
THE KNAVE
Perchance.
WALTER
Tush, tush; let’s speak of him instead.
An infinite and endless liar, he.
I’ve seen my share of spines a-damagèd;
This sinner stands to walk most capably.
Stand now, O villain! Up upon thy feet!
LEBOWSKI
Step back, I prithee; stay not close to me.
WALTER
I bid thee walk afoot, if thou be man!
[He casts LEBOWSKI from his chair; LEBOWSKI falls]
THE KNAVE
O, he hath fallen!
WALTER
‘pon my life, I might have sworn he had his sea-legs.
THE KNAVE
Thou art a fool and of thee I despair.
We must away; let’s help him to his chair.
[They set him back into his cart. Exeunt]
5.2
[The bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE and WALTER]
WALTER
No doubt we’ll see some armour’d conflict yet,
Some battle fare unto the morning’s war.
But fighting in the arid desert be
A diff’ring beast from skirmishes as I
Experienced in jungles canopied.
That was a soldier’s war, by Jove, whereas
This thing shall be a walk as soft as cake.
I had me but my bow and quiver set,
No heavy horse; ‘twas I and good Sir Charles,
‘Twere face to face and eye to eye opposed.
[Enter DONALD]
That be combat, forsooth; the man in black,
An adversary worthy on the mount.
DONALD
Walter, pray, who be attired in black?
WALTER
Hold thy tongue, Donald—I speak of men,
Not eaters of the fig in motley clad
Affirming to ride bareback in reverse.
These men be none of worth, and I’ll have none.
[Enter QUINCE and O’BRIEN]
QUINCE
Thou dunce, thou varlet; whence this day of rest?
To bowl on Sabbath matters not to me
And fools me not; it may deceive the leaguesmen,
But none of woman born fools Joshua.
Thy games of mind are fit for childrens’ spoils,
And laughable; my act is but delayed,
For if I will not have thee Saturday
I’ll surely have my way with thee mid-week.
This Wednesday thou and I a-courting go;
Think well on it!
[Exeunt QUINCE and O’BRIEN]
WALTER
By my life, he cracks.
THE KNAVE
Think not on him till Wednesday, for the game;
Our worries stretch to higher fruit than he.
Look well; the nihilists approach our green
And bring Greek fire to our quiet lot.
My burning car doth hotly scorch the earth!
The weary moon hath shone upon our park
And lit the burnt husk of my fiery car!
[Alarums. Enter OLIVER and the NIHILISTS]
THE KNAVE
It hath finally been done. They made my car to shuffle off the mortal coil.
OLIVER
We want that money, Lebowski, else we be poisonous and kill thy forlorn queen.
THE KNAVE
Ye have not th’accursed girl, ye ninnies! We know ye never had so comely a maid.
DONALD
Be these the tyrants, Sir Walter?
WALTER
Nay! These nihilists be, and none to fear.
But few of any sort, and none of name.
OLIVER
We would have the money in any case, else we visit much grievous damage upon your
persons.
WALTER
Nay! Thou hast no hostage to avenge:
Thy ransom there is none but we shall pay!
We’ll not obey that know not ransom’s rules,
Ye cabbage-fed foul sons of ugly curs!
FIRST NIHILIST
Verily did his consort give her toe
In hopes of seeking gold a thousandfold.
SECOND NIHLIST
It is not fair; ‘tis foul but never fair!
WALTER
And wherefore ‘fair’, when ye be nihilists?
Wherefore the nihilist weeps and cries for ‘fair’?
Thy dispute is of infants, weeping woes,
Spoke as an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Believing in nothing.
THE KNAVE
Walter, pray be still.
Good nihilist, the money never was;
Yon big Lebowski gave me empty wares,
So take thy quarrel up his lordship’s way.
WALTER
And I request my breeches ere we part!
DONALD
In sooth, I fear they’ll hurt us ere we fly.
WALTER
Not so! They cowards be, and amateurs.
OLIVER
‘Tis well; we’ll take what minor gold ye have
In doublets thine, and all’s well that ends well.
WALTER
Fie on thee! What’s mine is ever mine.
THE KNAVE
Nay, let’s end cheaply; four sixpence I hold.
DONALD
And eighteen further in my saddlebag.
OLIVER
The gold, anon! Or I’ll be set on thee.
WALTER
What’s mine is mine; lay on, nihilist,
And damn’d be he that nine-toed woman kiss’d!
[They fight]
DONALD
Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God’s sake, pity my case. I shall never be able to fight a
blow. O Lord, my heart!
OLIVER
[to WALTER]
I firk thee! I firk thee! Verily I firk thee!
WALTER
We bleed on both sides. Have at you now!
OLIVER
I firk thee!
[They fight, and the NIHILISTS die]
WALTER
Ever thus to haters of Jewry!
[DONALD falls]
DONALD
O, I am slain!
THE KNAVE
Hark, hark! Man down! Walter, they shot him thus!
WALTER
No, Knave; no bowstring ever arrow left.
His heart is weak; a heart easily daunted.
Hear, hear how dying Sir Donald doth groan!
DONALD
O, I die, Lebowski;
The potent fervor quite o’er-crows my spirit.
Thou hast my dying voice; the rest is silence.
[He dies]
WALTER
Alas, sweet friend! Now we shall mourn for thee,
O could our mourning ease our misery!
[Exeunt, carrying DONALD]
5.3
[A churchyard. Enter THE KNAVE, WALTER and a GRAVEDIGGER carrying a spade
and a pickaxe]
GRAVEDIGGER
I greet ye, an ye are the men bereaved,
And mark ye well to escort the remains
Of your late friend to fields Elysian.
Look to the urn; let’s settle now the fee.
WALTER
The urn is well, but we demand it not;
We seek to send the ashes scatter-shot.
GRAVEDIGGER
‘Twas said, but ashes must be given ye
In a receptacle of quality.
‘Tis coroner’s quest law; will it suffice?
For this receptacle be humbly priced.
THE KNAVE
Might men of modest means who need thine urn
Be borrowers of it till our return?
WALTER
Sorrow and grief hath vanquish’d not our powers;
We are not saplings weak in tragic hours.
Come, good Knave; to market we shall send,
A jar we’ll buy to honour fallen friends.
[Exeunt]
5.4
[A cliffside. Enter THE KNAVE and WALTER, with a jar of clay]
WALTER
Words, words, words. I’ll speak.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings:
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.
We come here to have talk of these sad things;
Of Donald, he who in his life bowlèd.
He was a straight and true bowler, and a virtuous man. He was of our sort, a man who
loved the woods free from peril of the envious court. And he loved bowling well. He
knew the pebbles on the hungry beach. And yea, he was a bowler most avid. And a fair
friend, who never can be old. He died as did so many of his generation, ere his time. In
Thy wisdom, Lord, Thou didst take him, as Thou took so many bright flowering young
men, i’ the jungles of the Orient. These young men gave their lives, and Donald too;
Donald who loved to play at ninepins.
And so, Sir Donald, in fairest accordance
With what your wishes last well might have been,
We make commitment of your last remains
To the deep bosom of the ocean buried,
A peaceful progress to the ocean, which
You loved so well. Now cracks a bowler’s heart.
[He scatters the ashes]
Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
THE KNAVE
But soft! The sorrow’s wind hath strewn the ash
And cover’d me in that we came to spill.
WALTER
Alack! Blown winds and crackèd cheeks! Raged! Blown!
THE KNAVE
Thou art an ass! A stupefying ass!
WALTER
Apologies.
THE KNAVE
Thou hast ruin’d all again!
Thou makest all a travesty of pain!
WALTER
‘Twas accident! I meant not for the breeze.
THE KNAVE
Thy statement, man! The stuff on jungle war.
What signifies thy foreign conflict here?
What signifies thy deadly-standing speech?
I’ll have no more; thou art a raging fool.
WALTER
I stand before thee tainted with remorse, and beg thy mercy; I am overcome. A pox
upon’t, Knave; let us play at ninepins.
[Exeunt]
5.5
[The tavern near the bowling green. Enter THE KNAVE and MISTRESS QUICKLY]
THE KNAVE
I’ll have two ales of oat-brew, hostess fair.
MISTRESS QUICKLY
Anon. My fondest wishes for the sport
In tourney celebrated on the morrow.
THE KNAVE
I give thee thanks.
MISTRESS QUICKLY
And I thee sadder thoughts,
My heart wept when I heard of Donald’s fall.
THE KNAVE
‘Tis well; sometimes thou exits in pursuit
Of bear, and sometimes he doth pursue thee.
[Enter CHORUS]
But here’s the man of whom I had these words!
I wonder’d if he’d cross my path again.
CHORUS
I dare not miss the semifinal games.
How fares my good and noble friend the Knave?
THE KNAVE
Thou knowest; strikes and gutters, ups and downs.
CHORUS
Marry, be of ease, O gentle Knave;
I know thou wilt.
THE KNAVE
Thou know’st. The Knave abideth.
[Exeunt all but CHORUS]
Epilogue
CHORUS
“The Knave abideth.” I dare speak not for thee, but this maketh me to be of good
comfort; I deem it well that he be out there, the Knave, being of good ease for we sinners.
I hope he proveth well in the tourney.
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And all wrapp’d up be this idle theme,
A noble and a pretty story-dream
Made me laugh to overtake the band,
Parts, in sooth; and others less so scann’d.
I did not like to see Sir Donald go,
But then, the fellow wise is like to know
That on the way’s a little Lebowski
Perpetuating human comedy
Down through the generations; westward on,
Across the sands of time—but heed my song;
I ramble again, and so must take my leave,
And hope thou liked my tale of the good Knave.
If we be friends, I’ll catch thee down the trail
And we shall share sarsaparilla ale.
For never was a story of more glee
Than this of Geoffrey and the big Lebowski.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Adam Bertocci is an award-winning filmmaker and screenwriter. His films have played
all across America, with stops in Canada, England and Australia. He is a proud graduate
of the film program at Northwestern University, with a minor in English literature.
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski marks his first and probably last entry into the burgeoning
field of Shakespeare / Coen Brothers mashup; his previous splashes in pop culture parody
are based in a galaxy far, far away. Successes include the animated spoof Run Leia Run
starring Will Butler of Arcade Fire, the morbidly complete Web site “The Chopped-Off
Hands of Star Wars” and the indie-hipster dramedy (with lightsabers) Brooklyn Force.
While not poking fun at the work of more talented people, he works as a Final Cut Pro
editor and digital artist for film and video while continuing to create his own short films
and shop around his spec feature screenplays. Those looking to explore his work in those
areas are encouraged to visit his professional portfolio:
www.adambertocci.com
ABOUT THE PLAY
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski is fan fiction and in no way affiliated with the creators of
The Big Lebowski. No ownership is assumed; no infringement is intended.
Groups wishing to perform the work (heaven knows why) are encouraged to familiarize
themselves with the guidelines posted on the play’s Web site.
ABOUT WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
William Shakespeare (1564-1616), or His Shakeness, or Shaker, or El Shakerino if
you’re not into the whole brevity thing, was a playwright, poet, actor and urban achiever.
He is widely regarded as the finest writer in the English language and a key contributor to
the development of Western language and philosophy, though, you know, that’s just, like,
your opinion, man.
Two Gentlemen of Lebowski © 2010 Adam Bertocci.