Ubu Plays, The by Alfred Jarry Page B

all screaming for my blood. Finally, I escaped their clutches, and after four days of trudging through the snows of what was once my kingdom have at last reached refuge here. I’ve had nothing to eat or drink these past four days, and Boggerlas breathing down my neck the whole time. Now here I am, safe at last. Ah! I’m dead with exhaustion and hunger. But I’d give a lot to know what became of my big fat buffoon, I mean to say my esteemed spouse. Lord, how I’ve skinned him, and relieved him of his rix-dollars! I’ve certainly rolled him plenty! And his phynance charger that was dying of hunger - it didn’t get oats to munch very often, poor beast! It was fun while it lasted, but alas, I had to leave my treasure behind in Warsaw, where it’s up for grabs.
    PA UBU (beginning to wake up). Catch Ma Ubu, chop off her nears!
    MA UBU. My God, where am I? I’m losing my mind. But, no, heavens above, for -
Thanks be to God, by my side I behold
The sleeping form of Sir Ubu the Bold.
     
    Let’s play it cool. Well, you fat oaf, have you slept well?
    PA UBU. No, very badly! Oof, that bear was tough! Battle to the death between the voracious and the coriaceous, but the voracious completely ate up and devoured the coriaceous, as you will see when it gets light. Do you hear me, brave Palcontents ?
    MA UBU. What’s he babbling about? He’s even stupider than when he left. Who’s he having a go at?
    PA UBU. Tails, Heads, answer me, pschittbag! Where are you? Oh, I’m scared. But somebody spoke, who was it? Not the bear, I hope. Pschitt! Where are my matches? I must have lost them during the battle.
    MA UBU. Let’s take advantage of the situation and the darkness. Let’s pretend to be a supernatural apparition and make him promise to forgive our peculations.
    PA UBU. But by St Anthony, someone’s speaking! By God’s third leg, I’ll be hanged if someone isn’t speaking.
    MA UBU (in a great hollow voice). Yes, Mister Ubu, someone is indeed speaking, and with the tongue of the archangel’s trumpet that shall summon the dead from their graves to meet their judgement! Listen to that terrible voice. It is the voice of the archangel Gabriel who is incapable of giving anything but good advice.
    PA UBU. He can stuff his advice.
    MA UBU. Don’t interrupt or I shall fall silent and you’ll find your bumboozle’s on the hot seat!
    PA UBU. Ah! by my strumpot! I’ll keep quiet, I won’t breathe a word. Pray continue, Mrs Apparition.
    MA UBU. We were saying, Mister Ubu, that you were a fat oaf.
    PA UBU. Hmm! Fat, yes, I grant you that.
    MA UBU. Shut up, goddammit!
    PA UBU. Hey! Angels aren’t supposed to swear!
    MA UBU (aside). Pschitt! (Continuing.) You are married, Mister Ubu?
    PA UBU. Too true. To a vile hag.
    MA UBU. You mean, to a charming lady.
    PA UBU. An old horror. She sprouts claws all over, it’s impossible to get one’s hand up her anywhere.
    MA UBU. You should give her a hand up kindly and gently, honest Mister Ubu, and were you to do so you would see that she was just as appealing as Aphrodite.
    PA UBU. Who did you say wears an appalling frayed nightie?
    MA UBU. You are not listening, Mister Ubu. Lend us a more attentive ear. (Aside.) But we must hurry, for dawn is breaking. Mister Ubu, your wife is a delightful and adorable person, who hasn’t a single defect.
    PA UBU. On the contrary, she’s got the lot.
    MA UBU. Silence, Sir! Your wife has never been unfaithful to you!
    PA UBU. Only because the old hag’s so ugly that no man in his right mind would ever give her a chance of being unfaithful!
    MA UBU. She doesn’t drink!
    PA UBU. Not since I kept the cellar door locked. Before that, she was plastered by seven in the morning and perfumed with the scent of brandy. Now that she can afford to perfume herself with heliotrope she doesn’t smell any worse. One stink’s as good as another, as far as I’m concerned. But now I have to get plastered all on my own.
    MA UBU. Silly idiot! Your wife doesn’t steal your