Ubu Plays, The (6 page)

MA UBU. He’s gone already, but he’s left a letter.

PA UBU. Read it. I don’t know, I’m either going out of my mind or I’ve forgotten how to read. Hurry up, clownish female, it’s probably from M’Nure.

MA UBU. Exactly. He says that the Tsar has welcomed him most graciously, that he’s going to invade your Territories to restore Boggerlas to the throne and that you’ll certainly end up swinging at the end of a rope.

PA UBU. Hooh! Hah! I’m scared! Ooh, I’m frightened. I’m at death’s door. Poor wretch that I am. Ye gods, what’s to become of me ? This nasty man is going to kill me. St Anthony and all the Saints, protect me. I’ll shell out bags of phynance and even burn candles to you. Lord God, what’s to become of me ? (He weeps and sobs.)

MA UBU. There’s only one course to adopt, Pa Ubu.

PA UBU. What’s that, my love?

MA UBU. War!!

ALL. May God defend the right! Well and nobly spoken !

PA UBU. Oh yes, and I’ll get knocked about all over again.

FIRST COUNSELLOR. Let us get the army to battle stations with all speed.

SECOND. And requisition the supplies.

THIRD. Mobilise the artillery, man the fortresses.

FOURTH. And set aside enough money to pay the troops.

PA UBU. Ah, not likely! I’m going to do you in, you. I’m not giving any money away. What an idea! I used to be paid to make war and now I have to do it at my own expense. No, by my green candle, let’s have a war since you’re all so steamed up about it, but let’s not spend a single sou.

ALL. Long live war, three cheers for the war.

The Camp outside Warsaw.

[On the right, a mill with a practicable window. On the left, rocks. Backdrop showing the ocean.

Enter the
POLISH ARMY,
with
GENERAL LASKI
at their head, singing a marching song:

My uniform has buttons one, thunder a gun,
My uniform has buttons two, first of the few,
Buttons one, two, three four,
Gone to the War!
Five, six, seven, eight,
Buttons are great,
Nine, ten and eleven,
Buttons are heaven,
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen
Buttons to clean,
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen,
Buttons awaiting,
Nineteen, twenty,
Buttons aplenty.
My tunic has thirty buttons,
Boozers and gluttons,
Forty, fifty, sixty more,
Buttons galore,
Seventy, eighty, ninety-six
Buttons for kicks!
A hundred buttons on my chest
To shine with the rest.
My tunic has fifty thousand buttons I

GENERAL LASKI. Division, halt! Left turn, about face! Right turn, dress your ranks! Eyes front! Stand at ease. Soldiers, I am pleased with you. Never forget that you are military men and that military men make the best soldiers. To march in the paths of glory and victory, you should first put the whole weight of your body on your right leg, and then step out smartly, left leg foremost ... Attention! File off: by the right ... to the right! Division, forward! eyes right, quick march! Left right, left right ...

The
SOLDIERS,
with
LASKI
at their head, march off, shouting.
]
⁵

SOLDIERS. Long live Poland! God save Old Ubu!

PA UBU. Come on, Ma, hand me my breastplate and my little wooden pick. I’ll soon be so cluttered up that I won’t be able to run if they chase me.

MA UBU. Pooh! What a coward!

PA UBU. Drat, there’s my pschittasword slipping off, and my phynance-hook won’t stay put either! I’ll never be ready, and the Russians are advancing and will certainly kill me.

A PALCONTENT. Hey, Lord Ubu, your nearole-incisors are falling down.

PA UBU. Urghh ! Me I kill you with my pschittahook and my face-chopper. Now you dead.

MA UBU. How handsome he looks in his breastplate and helmet, just like an armour-plated pumpkin.

PA UBU. Ah ! now I shall mount my horse. Gentlemen, lead in the phynance charger.

MA UBU. Pa Ubu, your horse will never be able to carry you, it hasn’t been fed for five days and is half dead.

PA UBU. That’s a good one! They rook me a dollar a day for that old nag and it can’t even carry me. Are you making fun of me, horn of Ubu, or are you pocketing the cash, perhaps, eh ? (MA UBU
blushes and lowers her eyes.)
All right, bring me out another beast, but I refuse to go on foot, homstrumpot!
(An enormous horse is led in.)
I’m going to get up on it. Oh, I’d better sit down, otherwise I’ll fall off!
(The horse ambles
off.) Hi, stop this runaway brute! God almighty, I shall fall off and suddenly find I’m dead !!

MA UBU. Oh, what an idiot. Ah, he’s back in his saddle again. No, he’s fallen off.

PA UBU. Horn of physics, I’m half dead, but no matter, I’m off to the war and I’ll kill everyone. Woe betide any of you who step out of line, because I’ll give him the full treatment, including a session of nose and tooth twisting and tongue pulling.

MA UBU. Good luck, Ubu, my lord and master.

PA UBU. I forgot to tell you, I’m making you regent. But I’m taking the account-books with me, so if you try to cheat me you’ll be in for a hot time. I’m leaving the Palcontent Gyron as your assistant. Farewell, Madam.

MA UBU. Farewell, great commander, and mind you kill the Tsar good and proper.

PA UBU. Don’t you worry about that. Nose and tooth twisting, tongue pulling and perforation of the nearoles by my little wooden pick.

He clatters off, to the sound of fanfares.

MA UBU
(alone).
Now that that overstuffed dummy is out of the way, let’s get down to business, assassinate Boggerlas and get our hands on the treasures of Poland.

The crypt of
the
former Kings
of Poland in Warsaw Cathedral.

MA UBU. Now, where can that treasure be? None of these flagstones sound hollow. Well, I’ve certainly counted thirteen stones from the tomb of Ladislas the Great, keeping to the wall, but there’s nothing. Someone’s made a fool of me. Ah ! wait a minute, this flagstone sounds hollow. To work, Ma Ubu. Let’s get down to it, and we’ll soon have it prised up. It won’t budge. Let’s try inserting the end of this phynance-hook and hope that it will be working for once. Ah, there it is! There’s the gold all mixed up with the bones of the kings. Into our sack with the whole lot. Oh, what’s that noise ? Can there still be anyone alive in these ancient vaults ? No, it’s nothing, let’s take the lot and get out quick. These gold pieces will look far better in the light of day than buried in the graves of these old princes. Now we’ll put the stone back. What’s that? That noise again. This place is beginning to give me the creeps. I’ll come back tomorrow for the rest of the gold.

A VOICE
(rising from the tomb of John Sigismund).
Never, Ma Ubu!

MA UBU
escapes in a panic by way of a secret door, taking the stolen gold with her.

[Act Four, Scene One of
Ubu Rex
may be replaced by Act Two, Scene Two, of
Ubu sur la Butte,
which commences with Ma Ubu’s closing speech in
Ubu Rex,
Act Three, Scene Eight, as follows:

MA UBU. Now that that overstuffed dummy is out of the way, let’s get down to business, assassinate Boggerlas and get our hands on the treasures of Poland. First, the treasures. Hey, Gyron, come and help me.

GYRON. Help you do what, mistress?

MA UBU. Everything! My dear husband desires you to take over from him completely while he’s off at the wars. So tonight ... GYRON. Oh! mistress!

MA UBU. Don’t blush, darling! In any case, with your complexion it’s invisible.
⁶
But to work, give me a hand carting these treasures away.

Sung very fast, while carrying off the objects described in the song.

MA UBU. Can I believe my eyes or not? I see a pot ... a Polish pot!

GYRON. A bed-side rug of reindeer skin, Once trod on by the poor dead queen!

MA UBU. A faithful portrait, I am sure, Of my lord and spouse whom I adore.

GYRON. Bottles whose contents made Poles sing In the good old days of the Drunken King.

MA UBU
(brandishing
a
pschittapump).
And here’s the special Turkish hookah Made for Queen Leczinska.

GYRON. These rolls of paper in their crate Are secret documents of state.

MA UBU
(brandishing a lavatory brush).
And the little sceptre made of straw Which kept the peace in old Warsaw.

MA UBU. Hey! I can hear a noise! It must be Pa Ubu coming back. So soon ?! Quick, run for it

They run off, dropping their treasures on the way.]

The Main Square in Warsaw.

BOGGERLAS
and his men,
PEOPLE
and
SOLDIERS.

BOGGERLAS. Forward, my friends ! Long live Poland and King Wenceslas That old scoundrel Ubu has fled, which only leaves Old Mother Ubu and her Palcontent to deal with. I ask only to march at your head and restore the royal succession of my ancestors.

ALL. Long live Boggerlas!

BOGGERLAS. And we shall abolish all the taxes imposed by that horrible Old Ubu.

ALL. Hurrah! Forward! Onward to the palace! Let’s wipe out the whole vile breed!

BOGGERLAS. Aha! There’s the old hag coming out on to the palace steps, surrounded by her guards.

MA UBU. What can I do for you, gentlemen ? Ah It’s Boggerlas.

The crowd throw stones.

FIRST GUARD. All the windows are broken.

SECOND GUARD. By St George, they’ve got me.

THIRD GUARD. I die, by God’s holy horn!

BOGGERLAS. Keep throwing stones, my friends. PALCONTENT GYRON. Ho! So that’s the way it is!

He draws his sword and plunges into the crowd, wreaking terrible carnage.

BOGGERLAS. Defend yourself, cowardly bumpkin! I challenge you to single combat!

GYRON. I’m done for!

BOGGERLAS. Victory, my friends! Now for Ma Ubu!
(Trumpets sound.)
Ah, here come the Nobles. Quick, let’s seize the wicked harpy.

ALL. Yes, she’ll do, until we can string up the old bandit himself.

MA UBU
escapes, pursued by all the
POLES.
Rifle shots and hails of stones.

The
POLISH
ARMY marching through the Ukraine.

PA UBU. By God’s holy horn, by God’s third leg, we shall certainly perish, for we are dying of thirst and are quite exhausted. Honourable soldier, have the kindness to carry our phynancial helmet, and you, honourable lancer, take charge of our pschitt-scissors and our physick-stick to relieve our burden for, I repeat, we are fatigued.

The
SOLDIERS
obey.

HEADS. Ho there, Sire! Ain’t it odd that there’s no sign of the Russians yet.

PA UBU. It is most regrettable that the state of our finances does not permit us to own a carriage commensurate with our dimensions, for, since we were afraid of our mount collapsing under us, we have completed the whole journey on foot, leading the animal on the rein. But as soon as we get back to Poland we shall, by making use of our knowledge of physics and in consultation with our learned advisers, invent a wind-driven carriage capable of transporting the entire army.

TAILS. Here comes Nicolas Renski at full speed.

PA UBU. What’s he in such a flap about?

RENSKI. All is lost, Sire. The Poles have rebelled, Gyron has been killed, and Madam Ubu has fled to the mountains.

PA UBU. Night-bird, creature of ill omen, shiftless mongrel! Where did you snuffle up that rubbish? Here’s a fine kettle of fish. Well, who’s responsible, eh? Boggerlas, I’ll bet. Where have you just come from?

RENSKI, Warsaw, noble Lord.

PA UBU. Pschitt upon you, young fellow, if I believed you I’d order the whole army to about turn and march back in the direction it’s just come from. But, honourable infant, you are feather-brained and therefore light-headed, and have been dreaming foolish dreams. Go to the forward posts, my lad, and you’ll see that the Russians aren’t far away. In fact we’ll soon have to strike out with all our arms, including the pschittical, phynancial and physical varieties.

GENERAL LASKI. Master Ubu, do you see? That’s the Russian army down there in the plain.

PA UBU. You’re right, it’s the Russians! Here’s a fine state of affairs. If only there was some way of escape - but no, we’re on a hilltop and exposed to attack on every side.

THE ARMY. The Russians! The enemy!

PA UBU. Come, gentlemen, let us take up our battle positions. We’ll stay on top of this hill and we’ll not be so silly as to venture down. I shall remain in your midst like an animated citadel, and the rest of you will gravitate around me. I recommend you to load your rifles with as many bullets as they will hold, since eight bullets can kill eight Russians and that’s just so many more I won’t have on my back. We shall station the light infantry around the bottom of the hill to take the brunt of the Russian attack and slay a few of them, with the cavalry behind to charge around and add to the confusion, and the artillery set up around this windmill here to fire into the general mêlée. As for ourselves, we shall assume our command position inside the windmill, fire through the window with our phynancial pistol, bar the door with our physick-stick, and if anyone tries to break in he’d better look out for our pschittahook!!!

OFFICERS. Your orders shall be carried out, Lord Ubu.

PA UBU. Ah, well that’s all right, then. We shall be victorious. What time is it?

[The
sound
‘cuckoo!’
is heard three times.
⁷
]

GENERAL LASKI. Eleven o’clock in the morning.

PA UBU. Let’s have lunch, then. The Russians never attack before noon. Tell the soldiers, my Lord General, to fall out for a quick piss and then strike up our anthem, the Financial Song.