Ubu Plays, The (9 page)

PA UBU
(countering).
Take that, great clot, pisspot, son of a harlot, nose-snot, bigot, faggot, gut-rot, squawking parrot, Huguenot!

MA UBU
(hitting him too).
Take that, pork-snout, layabout, whore’s tout, pox-riddled spout, idle lout, boy scout, Polish Kraut.

The
SOLDIERS
hurl themselves on the
UBUS
who defend themselves as best they can.

PA UBU. Ye gods, we’re getting a drubbing!

MA UBU. Let’s tread on the Polacks’ toes.

PA UBU. By my green candle, this is going on too long. There’s another of them! Oh, if only I had my phynance charger with me here!

BOGGERLAS. Hit them, go on hitting them!

VOICES
(offstage).
Long live Pa Ubu, our great Phynancier!

PA UBU. Ah, here they are! Hurrah! Here come the Ubuists. Come on, quick march, to the rescue, phynancial gentlemen!

The
PALCONTENTS
enter and throw themselves into the fight.

TAILS. Get out, you Poles!

HEADS. Hoy, Mister Phynance, we meet once again! Come on, men, fight your way through to the entrance, and once we’re outside let’s run for it.

PA UBU. Oh yes, I’m very good at that. Look how Heads is hitting out around him.

BOGGERLAS. God, I’m wounded.

STANISLAS LECZINSKI. It’s nothing, Sire.

BOGGERLAS. Yes, I’m all right. I just came over all peculiar suddenly.

JAN SOBIESKI. Hit them, go on hitting them, the scoundrels are getting away.

TAILS. We’re almost there, follow me everybody. By consequench of whish I see daylight.

HEADS. Courage, Lord Ubu!

PA UBU. Ooh, I’ve done it in my pants. Forward, hornstrumpot! Killemoff, bleedemoff, skinnemoff, shaggemoff, by Ubu’s horn. Ah, they’re falling back.

TAILS. There’s only two left guarding the door.

PA UBU
(swinging the
BEAR
round his head, and knocking them down with it).
That’s for you! And for you! Ha, I’m outside! Let’s get the hell out of here! Come on, the rest of you, follow me, and look sharp about it!

The scene represents the Province of Livonia covered with snow. The
UBUS
and their followers in flight.

PA UBU. At last, I think they’ve abandoned the chase.

MA UBU. Yes, Boggerlas has gone off to get himself crowned.

PA UBU. He knows what he can do with his crown!

MA UBU. Oh how right you are, Old Ubu.

They vanish into the distance.

The bridge of a ship sailing close to the wind on the Baltic. On the bridge,
PA UBU
and his whole
GANG.

THE CAPTAIN. What a lovely breeze!

PA UBU. It’s a fact that we are moving at an almost miraculous speed, which I estimate at, give or take a bit, about a million knots an hour, and the remarkable thing about these knots is that once they’ve been tied they can’t come untied again. And of course we have the wind in the poop.

HEADS. He’s a nincompoop full of wind.

A squall comes up, the ship heels over, the sea foams.

PA UBU. Oh my God, we’re capsizing. Hey, it’s going all whichways, your boat, it’s going to fall over.

THE CAPTAIN. All hands to leeward. Close-haul the mizzen!

PA UBU. Ah, no! What an idea! Don’t all stand on the same side, it’s dangerous. Just supposing the wind changed suddenly! We’d all go to the bottom and the fishes would eat us up.

THE CAPTAIN. Don’t bear away. Hug the wind full and by!

PA UBU. Yes, yes, tear away. I’m in a tearing hurry, do you hear! It’s your fault, you fool of a skipper, if we don’t get there. We should have arrived by now. There’s only one solution: I’ll take over command myself. Ready about. ’Bout ship. Let go the anchor. Go about in stays, wear ship, hoist more sail, haul down sail, put the tiller hard over, up with the helm, down with the helm, full speed astern, give her more lee, splice the top gallant. How am I doing ? Tight as a rivet! Meet the wave crosswise and everything will be ship-shape. Avast there.

All are convulsed with laughter, the wind freshens.

THE CAPTAIN. Haul down the main jib, take a reef in the top-sails.

PA UBU. That’s a good one. That’s not bad at all. Did you get that, Mister Crew? Boil down the main rib; roast beef and oxtails!

Several die of laughter. A wave breaks over everyone.

PA UBU. Oh, what a ducking! That is the logical result of the manoeuvres we have just ordered.

MA UBU and HEADS. Isn’t navigation wonderful?

A second wave breaks over them.

HEADS
(drenched).
Beware of Satan and all pomps and vanities.

PA UBU. That’s right, beware of sitting under pumps, it’s insanitary. Hey, steward, sirrah, bring us something to drink.

They all sit down to drink.

MA UBU. Oh what bliss it will be to see our sweet France once more, and all our old friends, and our Castle of Mondragon.

PA UBU. Yes, we’ll soon be there. See, we are tacking past the Castle of Elsinore at this very moment.

HEADS. The prospect of seeing my beloved Spain again has put new heart into me.

TAILS. Yes, and we’ll amaze our countrymen with tales of our marvellous adventures.

PA UBU. Oh yes, there’s no doubt about that. As for me, I’ll be off to Paris to get myself appointed Master of Phynances.

MA UBU. That’s nice. Oo, what a bump that was.

TAILS. It’s nothing. We’ve just doubled Cape Elsinore.

HEADS. And now our gallant bark speeds like a bird over the wine-dark waves of the North Sea.

PA UBU. Wild and inhospitable ocean which laps the shores of the land called Germany, so named because it’s exactly half way to Jermyn Street as the blow flies.

MA UBU. Now that’s what I call erudition. It’s a beautiful country, I’m told.

PA UBU. Beautiful though it may be, it’s not a patch on Poland. Ah gentlemen, there’ll always be a Poland. Otherwise there wouldn’t be any Poles!

Ubu Cuckolded

(Ubu Cocu)

Restored in its entirety
as it was performed by
the marionettes of the
Théâtre des Phynances

Five Acts

Translated by Cyril Connolly

CHARACTERS

PA UBU

HIS CONSCIENCE

MA UBU

ACHRAS

REBONTIER

MEMNON

THE THREE PALCONTENTS

THE COBBLER SCYTOTOMILLE

THE CROCODILE

A FLUNKEY

A WOOLIDOG

The action takes place in the house of Achras. A door at each side of the stage. At the back, another door opening on to a ‘closet’.

In five acts.

This version of
Ubu Cocu
was adapted for radio by Martin Esslin and first broadcast on the BBC Third Programme on 21st December 1965 with the following cast:

Produced by Martin Esslin. Music by John Beckett.

ACHRAS. Oh, but it’s like this, look you, I’ve no grounds to be dissatisfied with my polyhedra; they breed every six weeks, they’re worse than rabbits. And it’s also quite true to say that the regular polyhedra are the most faithful and most devoted to their master, except that this morning the Icosahedron was a little fractious, so that I was compelled, look you, to give it a smack on each of its twenty faces. And that’s the kind of language they understand. And my thesis, look you, on the habits of polyhedra - it’s getting along nicely, thank you, only another twenty-five volumes!

ACHRAS, a FLUNKEY.

FLUNKEY. Sir, there’s a bloke out here as wants a word with you. He’s pulled the bell out with his ringing, and he’s broken three chairs trying to sit down.
(He gives
ACHRAS a
card.)

ACHRAS. What’s all this? Herr Ubu, sometime King of Poland and Aragon, professor of pataphysics. That makes no sense at all. What’s all that about ? Pataphysics! Well, never mind, he sounds like a person of distinction. I should like to make a gesture of goodwill to this visitor by showing him my polyhedra. Have the gentleman come up.

ACHRAS, UBU
in a travelling costume, carrying a suitcase.

PA UBU. Hornstrumpot, Sir! What a miserable kind of hang-out you’ve got here: we’ve been obliged to tinkle away for more than an hour, and when your flunkeys at last make up their minds to let us in, we are confronted by such a miserable orifice that we are at a loss to understand how our strumpot managed to negotiate it.

ACHRAS. Oh but it’s like this, excuse me. I was very far from expecting the visit of such a considerable personage ... otherwise, you can be sure I would have had the door enlarged. But you must forgive the humble circumstances of an old collector, who is at the same time, I venture to say, a famous scientist.

PA UBU. Say that by all means if it gives you any pleasure, but remember that you are addressing a celebrated pataphysician.

ACHRAS. Excuse me, Sir, you said?

PA UBU. Pataphysician. Pataphysics is a branch of science which we have invented and for which a crying need is generally experienced.

ACHRAS. Oh but it’s like this, if you’re a famous inventor, we’ll understand each other, look you, for between great men...

PA UBU. A little more modesty, Sir! Besides, I see no great man here except myself. But, since you insist, I have condescended to do you a most signal honour. Let it be known to you, Sir, that your establishment suits us and that we have decided to make ourselves at home here.

ACHRAS. Oh but it’s like this, look you ...

PA UBU. We will dispense with your expressions of gratitude. And, by the way, I nearly forgot. Since it is hardly proper that a father should be separated from his children, we shall be joined by our family in the immediate future - Madam Ubu, together with our dear sons and daughters Ubu. They are all very quiet, decent, well-brought-up folk.

ACHRAS. Oh but it’s like this, look you. I’m afraid ...

PA UBU. We quite understand. You’re afraid of boring us. All right then, we’ll no longer tolerate your presence here except by our kind permission. One thing more, while we are inspecting the kitchens and the dining room, you will go and look for three packing cases which we have had deposited in the hall.

ACHRAS. Oh but it’s like this - fancy even thinking of moving in like that on people. It’s a manifest imposture.

PA UBU. A magnificent posture! Exactly, Sir, for once in your life you’ve spoken the truth.

Exit ACHRAS.

PA UBU,
then later, his
CONSCIENCE.

PA UBU. Have we any right to behave like this ? Hornstrumpot, by our green candle, let us consult our Conscience. There he is, in this suitcase, all covered with cobwebs. As you can see, we don’t overwork him.
(He opens the suitcase. His
CONSCIENCE
emerges in the guise of a tall, thin fellow in a shirt.)

CONSCIENCE. Sir, and so on and so forth, be so good as to take a few notes.

PA UBU. Excuse me, Sir, we are not very partial to writing, though we have no doubt that anything you say would be most interesting. And while we’re on the subject, we should like to know how you have the insolence to appear before us in your shirt tails ?

CONSCIENCE, Sir, and so on and so forth, Conscience, like Truth, usually goes without a shirt. If I have put one on, it is as a mark of respect to the distinguished audience.

PA UBU. As for that, Mister or Mrs Conscience, you’re making a fuss about nothing. Answer this question instead: would it be a good thing to kill Mister Achras who has had the audacity to come and insult me in my own house?

CONSCIENCE. Sir, and so on and so forth, to return good with evil is unworthy of a civilised man. Mister Achras has lodged you; Mister Achras has received you with open arms and made you free of his collection of polyhedra; Mister Achras, and so forth, is a very fine fellow and perfectly harmless; it would be a most cowardly act, and so forth, to kill a poor old man who is incapable of defending himself.

PA UBU. Hornstrumpot! Mister Conscience, are you so sure that he can’t defend himself?

CONSCIENCE. Absolutely, Sir, so it would be a coward’s trick to do away with him.

PA UBU. Thank you, Sir, we shan’t require you further. Since there’s no risk attached, we shall assassinate Mister Achras, and we shall also make a point of consulting you more frequently for you know how to give us better advice than we had anticipated. Now, into the suitcase with you!
(He closes it again.)