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ACT IV, SCENE i blue
MAARTEN, LAVERNA, NEBBIA

spacerMAART. Should anyone ask me to live in this house any longer, I decline. I don’t want this city to be governed any more by good laws and examples. The Hell with zeal and Roger the Deacon. I refuse to be pious. Alas, this Ethiopian, this stolen Ethiopian, is no Celia, but rather a Fury, an unfortunate bride who divorces me from my wits. I ask for a kiss, she flies at my face. I desire an embrace, she replies with her feet and fists. I ask her how I have displeased her, but I can obtain no word but mum, mum. If I have married a mute, what am I to do? Suppose she could speak and then rail at me, she who is so mad would be more savage than any wild beast? Hey, Laverna, come out, you who sell nobody anything but woes.
spacerLAV. Whose voice do I hear? Ah, myt man, are you sane? What has made you so distraught?
spacerMAART. Give me back my shipwrecked mind. Then produce the gold too, my hundred guilders. In exchange for the gold you have given me nothing but words, folly instead of good sense, and an Ethiopian instead of Celia.
spacerLAV. If this were not slander, I should of course be blushing.
spacerMAART. “Of course?” Truth most lies in distress when that “of course” grows frequent in our conversations. Now I shall reveal the mysteries. “Of course?” Unless you make good this damage, I swear by Jove —
spacerLAV. What do you mean?
spacerMAART. You told me to obtain an Ethiopian from Gaudentius, no?
spacerMAART. You told me this Ethiopian you obtained from Joost the monk was Celia, no?
spacerLAV. So I believed.
spacerMAART. My hands and face are scratched, no?
spacerLAV. A little bit, by heaven.
spacerMAART. These were made by your Ethiopian.
spacerLAV. You’re describing strange things.
spacerMAART. He threw me out of my house. He mutters mum without saying anything else. He can neither pray or give blessings.
spacerLAV. Unbelievable!
spacerMAART. When Loyola sprinkled holy water on this house today, I had a foreboding that some great demon was going to issue forth from the Pit.
spacerLAV. Let’s go inside. Either Loyola will provide the thread that gets us out of this maze, or I’ll make his skin more dappled than the hide of a doe.
spacer MAART. Give us better, Salvation! To Loyola? That man’s a basilisk, he bears a sword and a dagger in his eyes. Better to dunk him in a stream, since he predicted a flood.
spacerLAV. If your fear and superstition forbid you from confronting Loyola, let’s go to your house. I’ll make it so that Ethiopian doesn’t mock us with those white teeth of his. He’ll admit he played the mute for an ill reward. I’ll consult his entrails.
spacerMAART. In that house, where there exists the strangest monstrosity of all Africa? Sooner I’ll sell it and flee to the Arabian desert. Give me a torch, give me flame and a firebrand. Lend me a lamp, and I’ll burn down this house together with that “daughter” of yours and my entire household, taking revenge on this Ethiopian. Oh my Celia!
spacerLAV. My good sir! Barring what your old age gives you, you’re devoid of counsel.
spacerMAART. Quiet, bawd. I don’t give a fig wither the council is provincial or ecumenical. But we’re speaking nonsense, give me back my money. I’ll discover a thousand bright, shining faces in the coinage, but not a single Ethiopian girl.
spacerLAV. Wait a bit and I promise you a mountain of gold, I mean your Celia.
spacerMAART. I’m not waiting. Give me back my money, I tell you.
spacerLAV. I scent a whiff of Joost’ scheming. You have no idea of what our effort will gain us, should we go to Gaudentius. Truly, you’ll leave his house having gotten either your money or Celia.
spacerMAART. If such is your promise, I’ll obey. Nebbia, produce my going-abroad costume. Afterwards evict that shade from the Pit with his cow-like face. Damn all mute creatures, including dogs and cats.
spacerNEB. And fleas.
spacerMAART. Dash out their brains.
spacerLAV. Hurry up, Maarten. lest my evil reputation prove a scandal for Gaudentius, I’ll lead the way through his garden gate .

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ACT IV, SCENE ii blue
MAARTEN, NEBBIA, THE MUTE, CELIA

spacerMAART. I’m looking askance at my erstwhile way of life, since I’m exposed to such great mockery. Come come, every dry, sober man is a donkey. What man will answer me? Do you mean to address me? I’ll toast you with ten bumpers. Does somebody invite me to play dice? I’m at your service. Put down your money and I’ll wager thirty Philips. blue What if I were to purchase bigger boots and a plume? Ha ha he.
spacerCEL. Oh, love’s torture! Laverna is coming into Gaudentius’ garden. I’ll flit away like a swallow. Farewell, house. Ghosts haunt you. There’s a man peering around. Unless he’s somewhat myopic, Celia, you’re ruined.
spacerMAART. Oh me, who’s this evil demon of a lesser race? Surely he has come since I was thinking on profane things, drinking and dicing. I was pretending, of course.
spacerCEL. Um.
spacerMAART. Speak up.
spacerCEL. Um.
spacerMAART. I could believe that there was frost and ice in Hell, unless these devils caught cold when visiting Russia or Lapland and lost their voices.
spacerNEB. Come down with your hoarse whispers. Hey, are you resisting, you villain?
spacerMUTE Um.
spacerMAART. Here’s another one, Nebbia. He too is gazing at us balefully with that smutty face of his. He’s more taciturn than a fish, and likewise the other. One fig does not resemble another any more closely. [Enter the Mute.]
spacerNEB. Who’s calling?
spacerMAART. I didn’t dare ask him his name or nation.
spacerNEB. Where did he come from?
spacerMAART. I think from the underground Abyss.
spacerNEB. What’s your business, Moor?
spacerCEL. Um.
spacerNEB. May Cerberus destroy you! Are you unaccustomed to speaking our language, or any other? Assuredly his flesh is as soft as a girl’s. Master, let’s summon him before our presbytery. If you want Celia to be produced, these Ethiopian diviners will confess her whereabouts.
spacerMAART. Not for all the gold mines at Perugia. For our presbytery will offer them protection. It’s possible that they’re sons of pastors, condemned to silence.
spacerNEB. I can readily believe that.
spacerMAART. Or perhaps this ghost has come to fetch his colleague. Let them enjoy each other while we hasten on to Gaudentius’ house. Either he or nobody at all will restore my rebuffed suit.
spacerCEL. Oh charming love, how clever you make women! Maarten is making overtures to me, and immediately there enters my head this trick of remaining silent. But you, you mute, why leave this house?
spacerMUTE. Um.
spacerCEL. “Um.” You quit giving responses at the same time as did the oracle of Apollo. blue Beware of a whipping, boy. Musonius my honey, I am seeing to regain the costume and the customary modesty I abandoned for your sake, as well as you yourself, at the establishment of Baucia. [Exit.]

ACT IV, SCENE iiiblue
THE MUTE OR FAUSTINA alone

spacerMUT. Oh love, damned love! Break this heart, together with my silence. My heart’s vessel is bubbling over, its humors are a-boil. Its narrow confines will not hold them, their vapor flies into the air. Have you departed, Celia? No, look at me, you fairest nymph. Faustina appeals to you, calls on you, begs you to shut your heart to Musonius’ affections. What do you answer, Celia? Do you continue to mock me with your pert sallies? Alas, to what am I reduced? How many monstrosities conspire against me? I’m a mute and I speak, I’m a man and a woman, Faustina and nothing. Can Celia forget me when I’ve slept with her a hundred times? Or rather, would that I could forget myself. Musonius! It was for your sake that I disdained my womanly modesty, so that you might embrace the identity I discarded. O Celia, hide your pretty face, which eclipses mine with all that brightness. Musonius, it was for your sake that I closed the organs of my voice and condemned my tongue to protracted silence, and this mournful dirge will not offend you. I shall pour fourth my plaint in solitude and die unblessed. Depart, my soul. Why do you linger in this body, which pleases myself little, and Musonius less? You have prevailed, treacherous love., Thus it is fitting: I and good fortune have gone our separate ways. Unhappy Faustina, at once foolish and shameless, shun your sweet friends, and cleave to death rather than a marriage. Although I little rue my love, I greatly regret my folly. I wait on no solemn funeral. This sad, discolored, dark face will tell passers-by more than would an epitaph engraved on marble. But, you very faithful zephyrs, waft my dying words to Musonius, for whom I die, melting into tears. Ah me! I was born in love’s springtime, I have perished in its winder. Is this how you treat me, Musonius? Ah me!

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ACT IV, SCENA iv
MUSONIUS, FAUSTINA half alive

spacerMUS. What groans is restless sleep manufacturing for itself? Who has uttered the sad name of Musonius? I follow wherever tears and grief summon me. I am present, sated with sadness. What’s lying here on the ground? Is it speaking to itself or telling a tale to Hades? Are you sleeping, whoever you are? Or are you asleep forever? What is this? A young man butchered, murdered by an impious crime? He’s black, was he the prophet of his own doom? Ah, the sad sight! Who is the dark man who dwells in the house of darkness? Never do murderous hands long stay concealed. The gods see further than the light of day does shine, not only relying on the eye of the sun in heaven. My limbs are shaking. The more I look, the more the image of this very familiar, choice lad pierces my breast. Why do you quake, my heart? What do I see? Cheeks withered with grief and a red stain on his right wrist. I’m destroyed! I am not looking, yet I shall look some more. A sleepy unrest violates his fearful eyes. Alas, his brow and his familiar tresses. Mute, death, heaven, and Celia, I have lost all my companions at a single stroke. Sweet corpse, if any warmth remains, entrust your final breaths to these lips of mine. Everything is gone, you runaway, oh you who previously were never truly mute! Whom did you harm with a word, you most gentle person? I could have kissed you a thousand times, a thousand, my soul, and yet another thousand. Come, my sword, put an end to my love and my misfortune. Death is a right pleasant consolation when it is conjoined to that of a perished friend. But first I shall sacrifice the man responsible for this crime to the shade of the departed. Philander, where are you, Philander?

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ACT IV, SCENE v
PHILANDER, MUSONIUS, FAUSTINA half alive

spacerPHIL. [From an upstairs window.] Was that you, Musonius? Father has forbidden me to go abroad today. So pardon me for not coming down.
spacerMUS. Nonsense. I am not listening to your words.
spacerPHIL. Is some assassin endangering you? Why do you threateningly clutch your unsheathed sword?
spacerMUS. Ah, do you not know, villain? This blade yearns to be plunged into your guts. Here’s the mute. How did he die? You’re a stone, not a man, you traitor.
spacerPHIL. You astonish me with such intemperate bearing. Excessive solitude has corrupted your brain, and sleep will perhaps do away with this malady.
spacerMUS. You continue to mock me? It is a double cruelty, a double injustice, both to laugh at my miseries and to have created them. Draw and descend. Why should both you and I continue to enjoy the light of day? There’s no unluckier pair of men since you have murdered a lad of such chaste morals, and because my boy, endowed with such chaste morals, has died.
spacerPHIL. What’s this maze of riddles? Whom have you lost? Whom have I destroyed?
spacerMUS. The half of my life.
spacerPHIL. Far from me be murder.
spacerMUS. Get far away from me, you murderer. Or, since my avenging hand craves your death, come down.
spacerPHIL. Father forbids.
spacerMUS. It’s your guilt that forbids, your conscience, wounded by such an outrage.
spacerPHIL. By the gods, your wrong, my friend.
spacerMUS. “My friend?” Monster, tiger, beast! Draw, come down, traitor.
spacerPHIL. By heavens, he’s provoking me with his rant, although the love we have shared since our childhood holds me back.
spacerMUS. I am quite indefferent to our old affection. It is replaced by hatred, stronger than love. You murderer, stand before the tribunal of this sword.
spacerPHIL. I am coming, Musonius.
spacerMUS. And do so bravely. This sight will make me hot-blooded. I’m scarcely in control of myself, so much does a double flame burn in my breast, with the heat of love for Celia and hatred for Philander. Spare me, you sweet shades, until I have made expiation for you. I have no time to shed tears, but only to shed blood. Let us join in the fight, why stand there? Raise your hands, ready to kill. Why protect your treachery behind that calm visage?
spacerPHIL. [Entering at ground level.] Musonius, however much you refuse to be a friend, restrain your lion-like rage. Let us consider this a moment.
spacerMUS. No. With a stroke I’ll run you through the heart.
spacerPHIL. Don’t be so frantic, so filled with barbaric savagery. For your love of Celia’s sake, tell me what inflamed your mind.
spacer MUS. For my love of Celia’s sake, I comply. Set down your sword on this clump of earth, this dead corpse, so that our fight can easily be resumed.
spacerPHIL. Come then.
spacerMUS. I have suppressed my wrath, I have returned to my normal self, I forebear all harsh words.
spacerPHIL. You act kindly.
spacerMUS. Our agreement was that you take my servant for your purposes. O the blessed soul! But in the name of our friendship I handed over what you so earnestly sought.
spacerPHIL. That happened, I do not deny it.
spacerMUS. But this was done on one small condition, that you would treat him in a way that befitted a free-born, noble gentleman.
spacerPHIL. A proper thing to say.
spacerMUS. A thing that was said properly, but most improperly done. I gave over my darling, and see, see in what condition he lies! Is this how you are accustomed to keep your word? I handed him over fair and lovely, and he came back to me a dead, lifeless, insubstantial shade.
spacerPHIL. Let all happiness loathe me if I do not bitterly rue this deed.
spacerMUS. You ought to rue having done it rather than just the deed.
spacerPHIL. If this was done with my knowledge, I am the unhappiest of all men.
spacerMUS. Philander, you shouldn’t have entered into this agreement in the first place, or else you should have better abided by it, once you did. Let’s fight now, oh you oath-breaker.
spacerPHIL. God’s faith, I can’t, I’m so stunned by this unexpected catastrophe that I’m all but turned to stone.
spacerMUS. Take up your sword, or I shall carve my way into the inner chambers of that false brain of yours.
spacerPHIL. No, you take up yours. If your fury inspires you, exact your punishment.
spacerMUS. I have no such desire, and it is unworthy of my revenge to gain a bloodless victory.
spacerPHIL. Well then, Musonius, my amazement obliges me to join you in your rage.
spacerMUS. Aren’t you being a Proteus-like blue hypocrite, Philander?
spacerPHIL. Do I not show my guilt with my face?
spacerMUS. Not if you tell me the manner and cause of his death?
spacerPHIL. I know no more than the most ignorant. This morning a certain friar and I blackened his face and left him at Laverna’s house, dressed as a girl. What happened after that can be told you by the chill shades once you have become an insubstantial ghost.
spacerMUS. But why that blackening? And why in that house?
spacerPHIL. As an enemy should, I am relating this all to gain your displeasure. Celia needed to be enticed out of that nasty place. Our cheat had to be helped along by means of an Ethiopian. Celia threw on the costume of a boy, which he had brought with him. But, since he couldn’t reveal anything, we left the mute behind at Laverna’s, safe and deserving no harm.
spacerMUS. Oh fate, love, conspiracy! In order to abduct Celia? You feed the spirit of your pleasure in order to destroy the boy’s master! You dare adore the lovely Celia? Come, I’ll cut the love of Celia out of your treacherous heart.
spacerPHIL. If your eyes pain you because of this sight, let’s fight. I burn with love of Celia. For Celia!
spacerMUS. For the mute and Celia! [They clash.]

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ACT IV, SCENA vi
CELIA, JOOST, PHILANDER, MUSONIUS, FAUSTINA half alive

spacerCEL. This was the Ethiopian’s blandishment? This was to be my freedom, that I should be your whore, you nastiest of all men?
spacerJO. Oh, I am seeing duelists with drawn swords. [Exit.]
spacerCEL. Woe’s me! My heart! My two rivals are brandishing lethal steel, trying to murder each other. Alas, restrain your mindless impulses. I feel the pangs of a hundred wounds over your danger.
spacerPHIL. I’m brave enough that I am not afraid to obey you.
spacerMUS. Behold the power of her divinity. Celia caused us to fight, Celia separates us.
spacerCEL. Put up your swords. While I see them gleaming, my love of you both does not allow me to depart, and yet my woman’s fearfulness does not permit me to remain.
spacerMUS. Forgive me for refusing, my heart, forgive your Musonius. Bent on revenge, I doggedly cling to this weapon to the death.
spacerCEL. I would loathe you as a madman if you so much as scratched somebody’s skin in my presence. How did he harm you? How did this sea of anger first begin to rage?
spacerMUS. Ah Celia, bile and choler wage a most bitter war within me, as long as I am restrained from fighting. And yet I am restrained.
spacerCEL. I pray you, Musonius, disclose the sources of your grudges and need for vengeance. I shall do what is right for a woman most dear to you.
spacerMUS. Hear me, Celia. No sooner had I been touched by the beams of your countenance than my ancient father became my rival. At first, my piety bade me not oppose him. It was an easy matter to defer to my sense of duty, but not easy to set aside my love. I loved you, I adored you, but I worshipped this beauty silently and unwitnessed. Hence I shunned your company, which made me die a thousand times over. Afterwards, I was so plunged into the languor of solitude that the visions created by my mind almost drove me out of my mind.
spacerCEL. Oh, what a sweet nature!
spacerMUS. It is burdensome to find a companion in such misfortune, and yet I found one. Do you see this corpse, Celia? Do you see this nothing? That boy was speechless, and yet his sighing and groaning soothed me more than could any eloquence. He crossed my path a month ago. I received him as eagerly as if he had not been born, but rather sent down from heaven, both to listen to my hardship and to conceal it. Today (which ought not be called “today”) that man, wearing the mask of a friend, received him alive, Celia, and gave him back a shade.
spacerCEL. In truth, what could else could have been done by a treacherous Scythian gladiator? For you to have been given his life into your protection, and to have been so negligent?
spacerPHIL. As you love me, as sunlight and starlight nurture me, this befell me against my will, and indeed without my knowledge. You want more? It befell me as I greatly grieved.
spacer CEL. Forget about your taking this unexpected catastrophe hard. Because of the pledge you had given, you ought to have taken care less he suffer amiss.
spacerPHIL. Ah, my honey! Why are you so unkind to me and so easy on yourself? I carelessly destroyed the boy so that I might remove Celia from that pimp’s Hell.
spacerCEL. Careless, and because of Celia? Pray spare me, Musonius.
spacerMUS. To abduct Celia, traitor? You’ll never gain this by your entreaties. Take up your weapon.
spacerCEL. You two should act gently. [Pointing to her breast.] Plunge your swordpoints here rather than allow such great lovers’ tragedies to occur for my sake.
spacerMUS. Forgive me, light of my life. Flee, lest, driven by blind rage, my hand unexpectedly do what I would not do willingly.
spacerPHIL. Flee, beautiful girl. Violated trust and innocence fight on my behalf.
spacerCEL. I beg you, I kneel, I protest, and beseech you by these tears.
spacerPHIL. Rise up, dearest one. By these tears I beg you to arise.
spacerMUS. Philander, let’s remove ourselves far away from this wailing and womanish howling.
spacerCEL. But first, Musonius, you should set the boy in his grave. Wait that long.
spacerMUS. My life, now I have the leisure for taking revenge, not for burying. Whoever lacks a grave is covered over by the sky. And if a duel’s doom send this soul of mine to Hades, this is my desire, Celia, that the same urn contain both myself and this boy.
spacerPHIL. Let’s go, Musonius.
spacerMUS. Most gladly, Philander.

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ACT IV, SCENE vii blue
LOYOLA, CELIA, FAUSTINA

spacerLOY. [From the brothel’s window.] As often as I look out at this neighborhood, I never find it empty. Some busybody is always thrusting himself underneath this window when I decide to jump.
spacerCEL. Farewell, my eyes. Whichever of you has an open wound, in it I shall bury all my joys. Sooner will a single drop of your blood drown me than a sea of water. Oh Cupid, why have I, to my unhappiness, fallen in love with somebody you have not ordained? Was it such a crime to escape the brothel that I should fall into these woes? So will Musonius die, if I love not Philander?? So will Philander die because I adore Musonius?
spacerFAUST. Oh me!
spacerCEL. Whoever you are, unlucky boy, I do not see why I shouldn’t stab you all over with my writing-pen. Away with you, you cause of this danger! I would fight against shades if my sense of piety did not object, you villain.
spacerFAUST. Musonius, where are you? O Celia, most fortunate to have him for a husband!
spacerCEL. Celia? Does your chill ghost accuse me because I prodded you with my foot? And now he’s moving an elbow. What fraud lies hidden here? I shudder.
spacerFAUST. Oh Musonius, it does not befit me to remain silent any longer. My languor warns me I should draw up my last will and testament. So I disinherit you from all the misfortune of which I have so abundant a share.
spacerCEL. Oh my, you worst of rascals! He pretended to be a mute, but now he speaks clearly. What monstrosity is he nursing? What quarrels you caused with your pretended death!
spacerFAUST. Um.
spacerCEL. Now you begin to play the mute, impostor, mountebank, traitor?
spacerFAUST. Um.
spacerCEL. What new tricks are you playing now, grave-robber? Speak up or I’ll rip out your tongue and eyes, villain. What do you say?
spacerFAUST. What should I say? Love and sorrow conspire to make me mute. Is Celia so harsh towards her Faustina?
spacerCEL. Faustina? Where is she? Oh, that girl, most dear to me! Oh, unhappily lost!
spacerFAUST. Oh Celia, Faustina has been lost to you, but how near she is! And yet, ah, how distant!
spacerCEL. Do you know Faustina or where she is? Why mention her?
spacerFAUST. I’m just as familiar with Faustina as you are with Celia. You were both brought up in the house of Michel, a citizen of Paris.
spacerCEL. Very true.
spacerFAUST. And by him were handed over to Laverna.
spacerCEL. Who am I to call you, how know Faustina’s affairs and my own as if by rote?
spacerFAUST. Ah, Celia, either speak calmly and in a friendly way, or I’ll have said my last. If you sincerely mourn for your lost Faustina, behold her. Are these little lips so strange to you?
spacer CEL. By Venus, this is she! Ah, you most kindly heart, why did you flee from me? Where have you been living so long? Why this change of costume? Speak, piteous girl.
spacerFAUST. I’ll talk, Celia. It’s important that you hear me and sympathize with what I have to say. When Michel the merchant sold us to the bawd as little girls, this city praised us both for our beauty. Your loveliness was very much on everybody’s lips.
spacerCEL. Here’s a kiss, my Faustina. Pray omit these praises.
spacerFAUST. At first Gaudentius’ son Philander, a very sweet-natured boy, and then Maarten’s son Musonius feel head-over-heels in love with Celia. And, so that love might wander in a threefold maze, the elderly Maarten caught fire too. Meanwhile (ah me), Venus’ boy planted his dart in this little breast of mine (unluckily enough, by Hercules), and I was inflamed by the same fire as yourself.
spacerCEL. You fell in love with Musonius! For what Celia would not fall in love with Musonius?
spacerFAUST. Meanwhile my innermost being was gnawed by the fact that, as long as I had such an excellent rival as yourself, I had no hope of gaining him. And, alas, because he had his father Maarten for a rival, sweet Musonius steadfastlyh resisted my love. And yet a great dullness came over him, so that he came to hate life and the light of day, and also all human company.
spacerCEL. But pray concentrate on your own fortunes.
spacerFAUST. Musonius asked this single thing of his father, that he would purchase a mute servant for his own uses, yet he concealed his reason from his father. Laverna was placed in charge of the purchase, yet nobody was bought. At this point my bold love persuaded me to adopt the personage of a mute myself. I made my mind masculine, and likewise my costume. I fled to Brussels, where, after three months of begging door-to-door I was taken into Maarten’s household. I was made the mute companion of sad Musonius. Woe’s me.
spacerCEL. You were thrice-blessed, Faustina, because you were never separated from your beloved.
spacerFAUST. Just so. But, Celia, I made no progress in my suit. He loves you, he admires you, he dreams of you, he thinks of you, you fairest of women. Ah, if my harsh and lengthy servitude. my most faithful love, my deep groans, my fountains of tears, and my risk of my life has earned me anything, Celia, let Musonius go. Let him go so he might love me alone.
spacerCEL. My soul is melting, but Musonius is planted in the core of my heart.
spacerFAUST. This is a great request. But if I remember you, this is a small thing for Faustina to ask. What do you say? By one act of mercy you will rescue two, Philander and this soul of mine. Pray answer me. I live or die according to the sentence you pronounce.
spacerCEL. What am I to say? I was not nursed by a tigress. And yet I fear we have both lost Musonius. I suspect that, in accordance with the Fates’ will, Musonius and Philander, my Philander, are about to fight over you with drawn swords.
spacerFAUST. Oh me, I have never been unhappy until this moment! What have I done, Celia?
spacerCEL. While you lay in a swoon as if dead, Musonius came along and is seeking to wreak vengeance on Philander for your murder.
spacerFAUST. Holy Jupiter! Now I prostrate myself and forswear this bond. blue If either of those fine young men should die in this quarrel, I shall pass my tearful days most closely confined either in a convent or a desert waste.
spacerCEL. And I vow to do the same. But why are we standing here? Let us intervene right away.
spacerFAUST. In what direction should we go? This way or that?
spacerCEL. That one. I’ll lead the way.
spacerFAUST. Ah, quickly, quickly, Celia!

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ACT IV, SCENE viii blue
LOYOLA, SCARABAEUS

spacerLOY. I was afraid these girls would keep their chatter until the end of the month. Damn you, go back to your wool and your distaff, you hateful little sluts. Now get ready to make your escape, Loyola. Both extrinscially and intrinsically, it’s best to stay alive. Should a private dwelling confine me, who has tunneled his way out of twenty prisons? You may guess what of all things I most greatly crave: not the papacy and its white linen robe, but that Joost, that hellish fountain of felonies, were standing before me, so that I might jump down and land on his belly, even if I broke his back.
spacerSCAR. Sh, the window creaked. I just heard a noise. Oh that executioners’ whipping-stock! Let me fetch that scourge Joost bade me use when my misdeeds provoke me to deal out some lashes.
spacerLOY. Thus far I’ve extricated myself most preparedly, and yet not simply but rather in a certain respect, in the part anterior but not in the part posterior. Now, since you are on the brink of taking a fall, Loyhola, it is ungentlemanly to flee without paying your prison-debts. You will offer up no few prayers for Scarabaeus in your pious mind’s recollections.
spacerSCAR. It’s possible he’ll toss me ten florins.
spacerLOY. Indeed, he has not earned a guilder, since he now he’s away, when he could have been bidding me adieu.
But here’s a lump of sugar.
spacerSCAR. Pish.
spacerLOY. I know that glutton will lick it, tainted with poison and deadly mercury. Alas for that rotten beast! That rotten beast will not suffer the fate of his ancestors and die on the gallows.
spacerSCAR. It would have been better not to have uttered that insult. Biff. blue
spacerLOY. Woe to your knuckles!
spacerSCAR. Bam.
spacerLOY. Once more, you whipping-stock? Do you imagine me to be a thick-skinned punching-bag? There are certain occult qualities blue concerning this household, as the Schoolmen say.
spacerSCAR. Woe to you, baldy, on the verge of your leap. Afterwards I’ll bind you with manacles so you can’t make your departure, you gallows-bait.
spacerLOY. My learned sir, I admit I was leaning over, peering around to discover who just administered me a friendly scourging. But God forbid I should shun your patronage!
spacerSCAR. What? You weren’t thinking of making a getaway without being wounded by a whipping?
spacerLOY. I wasn’t thinking of that, my good jailer.
spacerSCAR. No?
spacerLOY. By whatever is holy, I did not wish that.
spacerSCAR. You perjure yourself too? I was present and heard you, my bold friend.
spacerLOY. You know for sure you heard such things?
spacerSCAR. Do you doubt it?
spacer LOY. With your own ears?
spacerSCAR. Are you some inquisitor, asking all these questions?
spacerLOY. What I meant was that I didn’t want to take my leave while you were present and had foreknowledge of my intention. This, therefore, is not perjury, but a certain mental reservation.
spacerSCAR. You rascal! No eel is as slippery as your response. Either invent another falsehood or admit you sought my death with your poison and you mercury.
spacerLOY. I deny it, I deny it. Now it’s very plain that you’re deaf.
spacerSCAR. Do you want to be laden down with chains, you polyps,blue proclaiming falsehood as if it were truth?
spacerLOY. Pardon me, I give a formal reply. I did not say that I intended to kill you with the intention that you might overhear me, take precautions, and survive to take your revenge, even if I did say that simply. This is not a lie, but rather a shady equivocation.
spacerSCAR. I’ll soon make you sting, when equivocation will not suffice.
spacerLOY. When equivocation is insufficient, I’ll join the Schoolmen in making distinctions.
spacerSCAR. So heed me: since, contrary to the laws of hospitality, you had in mind to turn tail furtively, you will be flayed with a whip. Now make your distinctions.
spacerLOY. I respond: what laymen lacking prerogatives and indulgences cannot do, we more learned scholars can, since we have indulgence.
spacerSCAR. And then?
spacerLOY. Then I am in possession of a papal bull allowing me to commit felonies and gain pardon for a period of six years.
spacerSCAR. What if I disregard your bull?
spacerLOY. Then, respectively if not absolutely, I am a dead man.

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ACT IV, SCENE ix
SCARABAEUS, JOOST, LOYOLA, CHORUS OF MONKS

spacerSCAR. What men do I see? Monks, performing a lamentation and a dirge, with Joost in the forefront.
spacerLOY. O diablo! This is not a display of grieving, but rather of mockery.
spacerJO. Hey, our Loyola. Farewell forever, farewell, farewell.
spacerCHORUS Oh woe!
spacerLOY. You who are the leader of this howling, Joost, I’ll either pound genuine tears out of you or beat oit your brains. Do I strike you as deserving this insult? To be put into a chest? Into a brothel? Into prison?
spacerJO. Those are more trivial things, my Schoolman. What do you think of hanging? With my very own eyes I saw your gallows being prepared for tomorrow. Alas, my monks, give voice to your grief. Farewell, Loyola, farewell forever.
spacerCHORUS Oh woe!
spacerLOY. After we mournful monks had got somewhat ssober, we composed your dirge, which, if needs be, we shall sing.
spacerLOY. Scarabaeus, either get rid of this mad comedian or I’ll jump down, to his ruination.
spacerSCAR. If you want to run this risk, make the attempt. My domestic chaplain will never be removed against his will, if he has a song.
spacerJO. Oh my patron, you are entirely wise.
spacerSCAR. Yes, I was not unaware of my wisdom. But sing your tune, Joost.
spacerLOY. Go ahead, you grunting hogs. I look forward to the day when every one of you has a cowl made out of his own skin.
spacerJO. Then we’ll be clad in scarlet, just like leading Cardinals. Here’s the dirge, nothing sadder has ever been written. It has the title JOOST AND THE SECULAR MONKS BID FAREWELL TO LOYOLA ON THE EVE OF HIS HANGING:

spacerCome all you monks and brothers,
spacerCome all you Jesuit fathers,
spacerYour laughs you should be fetching,
spacerLoyola’s doomed to stretching.
spacerWhatever wrong he’s done now,
spacerAs a martyr he’ll be swung now.

spacerOh you whores and hustlers
spacerFrom Pluto’s kingdom rustled,
spacerDance to the drummer’s banging,
spacerHe’s scheduled for a hanging.
spacerA victory-hymn be singing,
spacerIgnatius will be swinging.

spacerOh hangman, get to working,
spacerHis legs must soon be jerking.
spacerWe’re worse than him, he fancies.
spacerIt’s time he starts his dances.
spacerThen let his darling Schoolmen
spacerResolve his knotty problem.

But our tuneful chorus can sing this better.
spacerLOY. I forbid you these coins, Joost. But you who have serenaded me like musicians, take this trifling contribution.
spacerJO. Why this sudden generosity? Forgive me, you monks. I deserve a share of your reward, just as I had one in your little song.
spacerLOY. Are you all assembled to receive this fee?
spacerALL We are.
spacerLOY. {Emptying a chamber pot on them from above.] Take it. Would it were melted lead or boiling pitch! You dog, my jailor, I forecasted a flood for you today. Ha ha he.
spacerSCAR. Then I hope you won’t be laughing when you pay with blood rather than pee. Keep within the window.
spacerLOY. We have all been treating you unkindly, Scarabaeus.
spacerSCAR. Explain, my chaplain.
spacerJO. To put all his slyness into operation, this Loyola begged these monks that we should all pretend hostility towards him, if such could be pretended without insults or anything of the sort.
spacerSCAR. He begged them, did he? What did the fox want?
spacerJO. That you might throw open your penitentiary to these friars without any anxiety. In this way, he might worm his way out of his lair. So why not hang on to him with heavy weights and fetters?
spacerLOY. Is it your will to destroy me utterly, if you convince Scarabaeus of this?
spacerJO. When you should have been thanking us for our good will, you repaid us with piss.
spacerSCAR. So why not conceal yourself? I have with me a flail and a rawhide scourge, if you aren’t obedient.
spacerLOY. If that’s necessary, bless you. Would you all die in accordance with the law of the courtroom and the law of heaven, as the Schoolmen say!
spacerJO. Ha ha ha, his hunger and my reproach are giving him a snootful of bile.
spacer

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ACT IV, SCENE x
ACHERON, JOOST, CHORUS OF MONKS

spacerACH. Ah, my fellow citizens, does any man live in a daintier style than myself? I have healed this skin of mine with fine wine and chilled lard. My wife will ask where I have been. Among whores or lively cut-throats? Foh, so ho ho. blue Don’t touch me, wife. When I’ve had a bit too much to drink, I’m the King of Mauritania.
spacerJO. I pray that hapless Joost might make one request of the King of Mauritania.
spacerACH. Naturally, naturally. Ask. For it’s a royal thing to aid the helpless. Have confidence.
spacerJO. There’s a certain threepenny man, accursed and highly arrogant, in your custody, whose name is Loyola.
spacerACH. You’re lying, by thunder!
spacerJO. I am accustomed to doing that elsewhere, but I have no enthusiasm for doing so in your presence. Suppose, pray, that he doesn’t perish within three days but survives to make a thanks-offering to Hunger, then you won’t be Acheron but rather the great Cham of Tartary.
spacerACH. Since my childhood, I’ve worshipped justice, unless the opposing attorney offers a bigger bribe than you do, Joost. After four days, I can easily be persuaded, but since we have passed a death-sentence on him, it’s reasonable to learn whom in our household Loyola has injured.
spacerJO. You’ll hear an astonishing thing, audacity worthy of a Jesuit. Today he concealed himself within a chest, which porters brought to your house. Afterwards he emerged, silently and undetected, perhaps intending to do violence to Celia.
spacerACH. If there’s a mill in this city, he’ll learn what it means to grind virgins. blue
spacerJO. But listen, Acheron. The girl has disguised herself for flight and disappeared.
spacerACH. Oh, my dove is gone?
spacerJO. But she’s being sought in the market place. She’s found and is being brought back.
spacerACH. Excellent.
spacerJO. And being sent to Maarten’s bedroom as his new bride.
spacerACH. Are these things being said seriously or as a joke? Am I alive or dead?
spacerJO. Why trouble yourself, clown? You remember what you told me today under the seal of Confession?
spacerACH. What was that?
spacerJO. That Celia’s a man.
spacerACH. I said that to deceive you Pray help me. Celia’s not a man. If Maarten gains possession of her today, you’ll see me hanging in this very spot. What do you have to say? Nothing? Oh, the crime? Why not give your help?
  JO. How am I to help you, donkey, when you concealed this for your own sake while you were under the boot?
spacerACH. This is firmly fixed in my mind, Joost, I’ll never lie again.
spacerJO. And you’ll also forsake your brothel and the pimp’s trade?
spacerACH. Oh, that’s harsh beyond all right and reason. I have no other source of support and feeding myself than dealing in whores. But take me along as your companion when you go to church. There’s an ulcer in my mind, and there it can be drained.
spacerJO. Why keep things hidden when your mind is diseased? How can we get any further, if you require advice in the present evil?
spacerACH. I won’t babble about this moment in public, not even if I should gain Colchis and its Golden Fleece. All my salvation rests in trusting in that seal and its perpetual silence.
spacerJO. Let’s go then, and along the way you’ll learn from these singing monks with how many insults I’ve toasted Loyola.

Go to Act V


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