ABBOT--Don't think it is the wine I care for.
FATHER BENEDICT-- Ha!
The cup, eh?--Take it.
(_He hands the cup to Pierre and leads the ass back
to one of the benches, upon which he climbs
and stands fixing the saddle._)
ABBOT-- A while ago you said
God's dreadful summoner appeared.
FATHER BENEDICT-- Yes.
(_Pierre goes out._) Whoa!
SIMON-- (_Following Pierre._)
Pierre.
PIERRE--No.
SIMON-- Just a tiff.
PIERRE-- No, I say.
SIMON-- (_Supplicating._) Brother! (_Spitefully._)
Dinky! Bed-bug! Pizzle-wizzle! (_With a grimace._)
U-g-h! (_He spits at him and turns back._)
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Who has mounted._)
Now if you get my switch, I think I'll go.
(_One of the monks stoops and picks up the switch,
which he hands to the Priest, who looks from
the Abbot to Louis and then from Louis to the
Abbot._)
FATHER BENEDICT--You see, I could ride off without one word.
LOUIS--Without one word of what?
FATHER BENEDICT--(_Contemptuously._) One word of what!
You think I came from town and so does he.
ABBOT--What of it?
FATHER BENEDICT-- Simply this: that I did not.
ABBOT--We are glad to have learned that.
LOUIS-- Delighted.
FATHER BENEDICT-- Humph!
And you don't wish to know where I have been?
ABBOT--'Tis immaterial.
FATHER BENEDICT-- That is another proof
You envy me. First, you conceal from me
That which you feared would blow my name abroad;
And now you fear to hear where I have been
Because from what you know of me you know
Whatever comes I meet events as friends,
And never sally out but I return
With spoil, and that stirs up the green in you.
Now I will tell it though the heavens fall.
Old Hartzel's dead.
ABBOT-- I find no joy in that.
FATHER BENEDICT--Of course, you don't.
RENE--(_Calling across the court._) Old Hartzel's dead!
BASIL--(_Under his breath._) Thank God!
(_The monks upon the chapel steps and others
sitting about upon the benches start up and
gather forward._)
FATHER BENEDICT--You don't think I told that to give you joy?
ABBOT--It matters nothing to me in either case.
FATHER BENEDICT--But this will matter something. Listen now.
(_Leaning over and speaking in the Abbot's ear_.)
I get his forty neat and all the land
Between the river and the raddle-hedge
South of the village, with the acreage
Of tilth and vines that fronts the rising sun
Near the White Torrent. Does _that_ give you joy?
(_He strikes the ass with the switch and starts
left._)