Brecht Collected Plays: 7: Visions of Simone Machard; Schweyk in the Second World War; Caucasian Chalk Circle; Duchess of Malfi (World Classics) by Bertolt Brecht

Author:Bertolt Brecht [Brecht, Bertolt]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2014-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

5

THE STORY OF THE JUDGE

THE SINGER

Listen now to the story of the Judge:

How he turned Judge, how he passed judgment, what kind of Judge he is.

On the Easter Sunday of the great revolt, when the Grand Duke was overthrown

And his Governor Abashvili, father of our child, lost his head

The village clerk Azdak found a fugitive in the woods and hid him in his hut.

Azdak, in rags and tipsy, helps a fugitive dressed as a beggar into his hut.

AZDAK: Don’t snort. You’re not a horse. And it won’t do you any good with the police if you run like a dirty nose in April. Stop, I tell you. He catches the fugitive, who has trotted into the hut as though he would go through the walls. Sit down and feed: here’s a piece of cheese. From under some rags in a chest he fishes out some cheese, and the fugitive greedily begins to eat. Haven’t had anything for some time, eh? The fugitive groans. Why did you run so fast, you arse-hole? The police wouldn’t even have seen you!

THE FUGITIVE: Had to.

AZDAK: Blue funk? The fugitive stares, uncomprehending. Got the squitters? Afraid? Don’t slobber like a Grand Duke or a sow. I can’t stand it. It’s well-born stinkers we’ve got to put up with as God made them. Not the likes of you. I once heard of a Senior Judge who farted at a public dinner. Just to show his independence. Watching you eat like that really gives me the most awful ideas! Why don’t you say something? Sharply. Let’s have a look at your hand. Can’t you hear? Show me your hand. The fugitive slowly puts out his hand. White! So you’re no beggar at all! A fraud! A swindle on legs! And here am I hiding you from the police as though you were a decent human being! Why run like that if you’re a landowner? Because that’s what you are. Don’t try to deny it. I see it in your guilty face. He gets up. Get out of here! The fugitive looks uncertainly at him. What are you waiting for, you peasant-flogger?

THE FUGITIVE: Am hunted. Ask for undivided attention. Make proposition.

AZDAK: What do you want to make? A proposition? Well, if that isn’t the height of insolence! He making a proposition! The bitten man scratches his fingers bloody, and the leech makes a proposition. Get out, I tell you!

THE FUGITIVE: Understand point of view. Persuasion. Will pay 100,000 piastres for one night. How’s that?

AZDAK: What? Do you think you can buy me? And for 100,000 piastres? A third-rate farm. Let’s say 150,000. Got it?

THE FUGITIVE: Not on me, of course. Will be sent. Hope, don’t doubt.

AZDAK: Doubt profoundly! Get out!

The fugitive gets up and trots to the door. A voice from off-stage.

VOICE: Azdak!

The fugitive turns, trots to the opposite corner and stands still.

AZDAK shouting: I’m not in. He walks to the door. Is that you spying around here again, Shauva?

POLICEMAN SHAUVA outside, reproachfully: You’ve snared another rabbit, Azdak. You promised me it wouldn’t happen again.

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