7 To see a commentary note, click on a blue square. To see the Latin text, click on a green square.
ACTUS IV, SCENE i
EUDAEMON, THE PRINTER
He chases Delirium from the Forum Romanum to the Forum Exoticum using his novel exorcisms.
EUD. Why are you hesitating? Follow me.
PRINTER Hey, softly. I’d hardly dare press this kind of demon too much.
EUD. You’d hardly dare? You who have obtained my exorcisms? Rather, if you have a taste for persecution, no resistance will ever be offered in England.
PRINTER Yes, you have royal power over demons.
EUD. All good Jesuits should attend to this.
PRINTER What surprises me is that Eudaemon, who has the enjoyment of a deranged little demon in this world, would undertake the chores of a cardinal.
EUD. Such is human nature that when something new comes along in troubled times people fasten on it and lose confidence in that which is nearer at hand — until they have had experience of that thing.
PRINTER But in the end I know Pope Paul will accept nobody but yourself as his servant. For as soon as you remove this genius from his position, good God, how quickly his apologia gets written!
EUD. But that must be conceded to his gloomy old age, the old man is vexed and in a bad mood.
PRINTER Presumably what grieves him is that these Apologies are to be published under his own name.
EUD. But he won’t escape. Come now, take this scarlet inside to him, so he might put it on immediately. I’ll follow you soon.
PRINTER Now I’ll cheer up my master in this way, if I can. (He puts on the scarlet and goes off.).
EUD. If I weren’t aware that this old coot was not far removed from Charon’s skiff, I could never have put up with this swindle. The writers are harangued, each man earnestly gets to work on his own behalf in order gain the scarlet. But behold, now it has disappeared. It used to be Bellarmine’s hand-me-downs, now it becomes Bellarmine’s costume once more and the writers are cheated. Now Pope Paul mocks us men, as is his wont. But may this turn out well for me. When Robert goes off to join The Many, the scarlet is destined immediately to become mine. Let the others burst their guts and die of chagrin after they perceive that they have been gulled in these ways.
ACT IV, SCENE ii
EUDAEMON, BECANUS, FOOLISHNESS (displaying the stripes of a whipping and groaning), SCIOPPE, PROFANITY
EUD. But I must guard against evil. Somebody or other has approached who might secretly overhear my discourse. Hm, who am I seeing? I believe that willow wands have somewhere been employed to administer a rich whipping, from which these men have arrived after being decorated with bundles of willow rods. And are there others? (He sees Scioppe who enters in a mutilated condition, and Profanity makes himself his surgeon.) Hah? What should I imagine this business to be? Are they about to become actors? For they mount the stage in a tragic manner. I want to discover whatever this is. So I’ll conveniently hide from their eyesight for a little while.
BEC. The Sorbonne won’t recognize me, but scourges were devised for me in the consistory at Rome, which is the reason I am maliciously macerated, and hence feel pain in my eyes and in my spirit.
FOOL. And me in my back and buttocks.
BEC. Is this how they reward my writing? Do they bid men of their own kind be beaten?
FOOL. In future who will ever write again?
EUD. Hm, I understand. It’s Martin of Mainz. So when the cardinals had convened it was as a censory court, and here this man felt his scourge.
PROF. Keep off your hand. (From his wounded nose.)
SCIOP. Woe’s me.
PROF. Foolishness? Be in good health.
FOOL. I can’t, Profanity.
SCIOP. So you’re my twin.
FOOL. Oh gods, Becanus? Can you for tears — ? Just behold these things. Look this way.
BEC. At what thing?
FOOL. Nothing sad. Have a look.
BEC. Sir Scioppe, what do I see in my misery?
SCIOP. A miserable knight, professor.
BEC. Pray, what happened?
SCIOP. Ooowoo, it burns me fiercely.
EUD. Ha, ha, he. What man shortened our knight by a nose?
SCIOP. This is the thanks they gave me.
BEC. Where? In the consistory?
SCIOP. In the Forum, by Hercules. this play, were retailed by Joseph Scaliger in his Life and Parentage of Gaspar Scioppius.
BEC. Bah, now I understand your greatness of spirit. Some dispute arose concerning honor, from which followed a fierce fight. Not so?
PROF. No, Doctor, it was a different matter.
FOOL. Possibly he was caught in flagrante and paid the price.
SCIOP. I would have greatly preferred that in comparison with what happened today.
BEC. Are you embarrassed to tell us?
SCIOP. All my many previous sufferings were trifles, as when the night watch at Ingolstadt smashed me in the forehead with an axe, and likewise when a daughter of Luxury ejected me beyond the Alps and Italy banished me, so that I suffered hunger, wanderings, and spells of imprisonment.
EUD. Oh the priceless sly-boots, praising his own misfortunes!
SCIOP. And now I am not as tortured by having my nose slit or suffering from my wounds, as by that which they did to me.
BEC. Who are “they?”
FOOL. I imagine he encountered some assassins.
PROF. Truly spoken.
BEC. And it’s your fault, Scioppe, for going around as a knight without a horse, as a count without companions, as is your habit. By Hercules, I congratulate you for getting away alive.
SCIOP. It is an act of God’s kindness that many men offered me their protection. There I experienced their genuine friendship, which made my breast impenetrable by swords.
BEC . Really? Impenetrable? Oh, the kindly saints!
SCIOP. Just as I believed, you are the beloved object of heaven’s concern, oh you dear fellow!
PROF. These are no trifles, brother. Swords attacked his breast more than once.
FOOL. But weren’t able to pierce it?
PROF. Certainly he had a leather jerkin hidden beneath his shirt, which turned aside the swords.
EUD. Oh, was that it? So now he owes his safety to the god of iron-working.
FOOL. But the gods allowed him to be wounded.
SCIOP. This should have been the case, so that they would learn I am a mortal man. But the man whom they had vowed to their swords was denied them.
BEC. A pious sentiment.
SCIOP. And this is something which will wretchedly stab the minds of these murderers someday, when they have begun to boast of their deed to the king.
BEC. Pray what am I hearing. Their king? Who is he in truth?
PROF. The King of the English.
BEC. Why him?
PROF. That’s the reward he gets for the insults he can never sufficiently proclaim in any context?
BEC. I’m still quite amazed.
SCIOP. When they couldn’t combat the truth in any other way, they resorted to wounding and a show of force.
BEC. So what happened?
PROF. You ask? It was as you see. They slit his nose.
BEC. What men were these?
PROF. The retinue of the English ambassador to Spain.
BEC. Hooray, well done! Thus far I praise you, Englishmen.
FOOL. Oh Lucifer, I believe your book recently written against the king stung him.
SCIOP. By heaven, that’s the truth, Foolishness is being intelligent. Beginning at that time they began to rage, and to believe their king’s cause was lost if they couldn’t destroy me.
FOOL. So you must watch out for yourself, Becanus. You supplied the argument for that book, and have published your own as well.
BEC. Assuredly, when I hear you I greatly fear for my nostrils. I’d prefer to forswear all writing in future.
SCIOP. Heaven’s, you would be acting wisely, since Justice has abandoned the earth. If they do you any violence, there’s nobody who will go to law to avenge you.
BEC. No? What about the magistrates there in Spain?
SCIOP. ’Pon my faith, I’m embarrassed to tell you.
PROF. They retort that Scioppe fetched this evil with his own packhorse.
BEC. Nothing else?
SCIOP. And that they feel heartfelt pity for me.
FOOL. Oh, a pitiful consolation for the piteous!
SCIOP. And that would be much to my advantage henceforth, if I were to be greatly on guard against the English.
BEC. Now I shall bear this seasonably in mind, and regard it as said about myself.
EUD. This is good, the man from Brabant is beginning to acquire wisdom.
BEC. I am bidden to have my Controversy approved and humble itself before the pope.
FOOL. Unless you want a further beating.
BEC. But as for the rest, as far as I am concerned the English cause may remain intact.
SCIOP. What if they command you to write more?
BEC. I’ll choose one moderate man to oppose. I don’t want to make any further promise concerning our cause as a whole.
SCIOP. So you have need of caution.
BEC. I’ll save my nostrils if I can.
SCIOP. Unless the pope takes care to recompense this loss of mine with some great boon, it’s all over. Henceforth I’ll bid the Roman cause to tend to its own affairs and abandon it.
EUD. Ha ha he. How Nasica has thrown down the gauntlet!
BEC. No, beware of this. You should think upon our great pillar of the church.
SCIOP. I’ll do it, by Jove.
PROF. But I know they’ll relieve you of this fear as soon as they find out you have been repaid with a nose carved out of gold.
FOOL. And you who have for some time been a Knight of St. Peter will be a son for life.
BEC. And, being still alive, you will be invited to join the crew of martyred saints we worship.
SCIOP. That’s certainly something.
BEC. (Pointing to a local tavern.) Meanwhile tarry here with us.
PROF. Opportune advice!
BEC. Therefore we will hope to drown our sorrows in drink.
FOOL. That necessity indeed exists.
SCIOP. And no Englishman’s there?
BEC. Not a one.
SCIOP. If there were, my nose could not elude him.
PROF. Whoever there is will detect it to his own misfortune.
SCIOP. And I in turn will immediately chew his nose off his face and gnaw my way into his belly.
BEC. So let me tell you what’s going to happen.
PROF. What’s that.
BEC. There’s a cask of mature English ale, we’ll wreak our wrath on it.
SCIOP. Excellent, excellent. Let’s go, my friends. Now woe to this English ale! (Exeunt to the Forum Exoticum.)
EUD. Ha! The state of Roman affairs! Take a look at men who have been invaded by ambition for the scarlet! Oh Zeus and all the gods, what is this if not an intolerable insult! If I were not aware that some evil has already been inflicted on them, I could not have refrained from handling them roughly my very own self, as they have deserved. But what’s this new development? I believe some hatred is brewing. I’ll observe.
ACT IV, SCENE iii
PACENIUS, SYCOPHANCY, EUDAEMON
Enter Pacenius, acting like a madman , wearing a woman’s scarlet dress and a stocking on his head
PAC. Come, come. Aha. Did Bellarmine imagine he could deceive me?
SYC. Yes, so it seems. (Aside). Alas, this man has gone mad over the scarlet.
PAC. Now let him deceive me if he can.
EUD. Indeed he’s the man, he is. Hence you too would swear he deserved the scarlet.
PAC. Hey, my man, am I sufficiently cardinal-like now?
SYC. You ask? (Aside.) His lunacy is increasing.
PAC. Oh you jealous old man! Now I’ll do a fine job of Bellarminizing him, I’ll teach him what it is to be ill-disposed to me.
SYC. You act with vigor. (Aside.) I wouldn’t dare disagree with him about anything, lest he turn his rage against me. Let these hobgoblins egg him on.
PAC. In my book didn’t I defend him for this reason?
SYC. He’s very ungrateful.
PAC. There’s no way he can excuse himself.
SYC. No, he can’t.
PAC. Perhaps he’ll say that this was because he knew I was obligated to the opposition.
SYC. But that’s nothing.
PAC. And he valued his personal inclination less than the scarlet.
SYC. And today all Jesuits are devoting their fearless effort to this thing.
PAC. Adieu, longed-for vestment. How gladly I kiss you. And I pardon you if you want to kiss its hem.
SYC. Thus you bless me. Phooey, he’s defiling my nose with his stench, which cannot be washed out.
EUD. ’Pon my faith, I envy him this whorish costume. The woman from whom he stole it must be elegant and splendid.
PAC. And you, you red biretta, you’ll have no idea how grateful I’ll be to Paul V for you. Now, for your sake, I would like to stay at home for a little while with my fellow countrymen, so they might behold the dignity I have earned for myself.
SYC. They ought to barrage you with stones.
PAC. Why, you gallows-bait?
SYC. Unaware of this splendor of yours, they believe you’re mad.
PAC. But you will act as my herald, and proclaim Bartolus a cardinal of the Holy Roman Empire.
SYC. As your majesty pleases.
PAC. My majesty? You understand this rightly. You have no idea of the good I’ll do you for this word, when I return from the consistory.
SYC. What? From the consistory?
PAC. That’s what I’m telling you. We cardinals are assembling immediately. Come on, let’s go.
SYC. Wherever you command.
PAC. And so they won’t know I’m a parvenu, at this point I want you to launch into your proclamation. Lead the way, I’ll follow.
SYC. I must humor you.
PAC. So begin, as I wish. (Sycophancy precedes him, and intones in this fashion: “Here comes my master.”)
SYC. Bartolus Pacenius. Bar- to- lus Pacen- Pacenius. (Exeunt to the Forum Exoticum.)
EUD. Whew, what a sweet delusion! I would not have disappeared so quickly. If the English had secretly been able to observe these spectacles, we and our scarlet would have struck them as absurd. That would indeed have been a pleasant thing! But see here, for the third time I need to conceal myself. I believe this scarlet story is continuing to unfold.
IGN. Being racked wrecked me less than the way this English tempest now wracks me, Lucifer.
LUC. We are ruined, Ignatius, unless you come to our aid in good time.
EUD. (Falling to his knees.) Ignatius and Lucifer, our family gods!
IGN. And so those writers should not grow despondent now, who have encountered frustration together with misfortune. This is my first concern.
LUC. Now can that be accomplished now?
IGN. Let me look into that. You just do as I wish.
LUC. I’m at your service.
IGN. Sound the retreat loudly, and command our attendant imps to come back to us immediately.
LUC. What then?
IGN. You’ll get a better idea after they have come. I hate these delays.
LUC. There’ll be no delay, I’ll make them come in the blink of an eye. (He draws a circle on the stage.)
EUD. (From concealment.) As if fallen from the sky, an opportunity has come for me, and it it is far better to seize it than to lose it.
LUC. Wherever in the world you are, my scribbling spirits, hear me and be present: Impudence, Profanity, Delirium, Sycophancy, Foolishness, and Emptiness. I, Lucifer, your commander, am speaking to you. Hear me and be present. (They immediately begin flying in from all directions, and Eudaemon mixes in with them.) And see, here they are for you.
ACT IV, SCENE v
IGNATIUS, LUCIFER, EUDAEMON, IMPUDENCE, PROFANITY, DELIRIUM, SYCOPHANCY, FOOLISHNESS, EMPTINESS
IGN. By Hercules, this is good. Now let them seat themselves facing me and hear Ignatius’ commands.
LUC. Pay attention, all of you.
IGN. But what am I seeing? They were six when they went out, now their are seven.
LUC. Have the given birth to another?
EUD. I’m the one who is increasing their number.
LUC. And who might you be, good sir?
EUD. And yet I’m not destined to be a supernumerary either for you, my commander, or for you.
IGN. I swear, the first sight of this fellow is greatly pleasing in my eyes.
LUC. Certainly Ignatius’ character seems to have ingrained itself in him.
IGN. What’s your name, my son?
EUD. A name which will duly find me a reputation in this band. I am Eudaemon.
IGN. Hm, you are he?
EUD. His very own self, by your leave.
IGN. Ah, you have my permission. But come here. (He gives him his hand, and then commends him to Lucifer.)
This, Lucifer, is the man of mine whom I was thinking of fetching. I am adopting you as my son.
EUD. Take me even as your servant.
IGN. (Aside.) To be frank, that’s what I’d prefer you men to be. (Aloud.) My mind is changed now, I want all of you to finish your writing and go home.
IMP. Behold, we are here.
IGN. When I understand how much pain is inflicted on my agents by writing, it is most important to devise a remedy for this thing.
PROF. That’s most important.
IGN. And so I have this edict for you: you will immediately bring them all here to me.
SYC. It shall be done.
EMPT. Woe’s me!
IGN. For each of them I’ll discover the relief he wants.
IGN. Beware lest I have to look for you.
DEL. I fear we shall beware of that in vain.
IGN. Meanwhile there’s some business I want to conduct with Eudaemon within, it won’t take long.
LUC. You two lead the way. (Exeunt those three to the Ignatianum.)
SYC. Happily, oh my brothers, we are finally going to exchange Hell for this papal dwelling-place.
FOOL. For which I congratulate us.
PROF. Now I’m relieved of my hatred.
IMP. But why are we delaying our happiness?
THE OTHER FOUR We’re going, we’re going. (Exeunt, each to his man.).
EMPT. What remains for us now, Delirium?
DEL. We’ll be ruined, we’ll be ruined.
EMPT. That’s what I think.
DEL. We have no man to deliver from the womb.
EMPT. By force and by fraud Impudence stole my Coquaeus.
DEL. And I was extorted of my Tortus and driven off.
EMPT. And we’ll be tortured in his place.
DEL. Unless Ignatius ceases to be, I mean that monstrous, cruel Loyola.
EMPT. Are you still delirious? Where are the men we can recruit? Where, where are they? We have no idea.
DEL. We must nevertheless search for them.
EMPT. That’s your suggestion?
DEL. If I don’t find anyone at all, Delirium will never come home today.
EMPT. And Emptiness will either find someone, or invent somebody, or not return. That’s the third option.