THE POPE'S MUSTARD MAKER

An Opera By Alfred Jarry

EText by Dagny
  • Act I
  • Act II
  • Act III
  • This Etext is for private use only. No republication for profit in 
    print or other media may be made without the express consent of the 
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                                An Opera By Alfred Jarry
                            Author of Ubu Roi

                       Translated and Adapted by
                          By Frank J. Morlock
                                C 1986


    Characters:

    Jane of Eggs, Pope under the name of John the Eighth
    The Grand Mustard Maker
    John of Eggs, the English Ambassador
    The Privy Chamber Maid
    The Grand Teamster
    Strong Arm de Costo, Colonel of the Papal Zouaves
    The Belgian Ambassador
    The Concierge
    The Grand Stationer
    Captain Cooks
    Ambassadors, Cardinals, Tourists, Scots Guards (Highlanders), Swiss
    Guards, Little Mustard Makers, Wise Virgins, Foolish Virgins.


    Scene: Rome


    Act I

    Scene I. The Pope's dressing room. The Pope is in the center of a sort


    of throne. The Privy Chamber Maid is dressing him The Grand Mustard
    Maker, The Grand Teamster, The Grand Stationer, and other dignitaries
    are present.

    Chorus:
    O Rome, receive in your bosom
    John the Eighth—Our Holy Father—
    Who, having all that is needed to be a saint,
    Has what is needful to be a father.

    Mustard Maker
    I am the Mustard Maker,
    Who carries his head high,
    Grand Master of Ceremonies,
    Seasoner of Ceremonies.
    I cling
    To all the infinite etiquettes.
    I watch all protocol.
    I am the Mustard Maker who holds his head high.
    I impose silence on the babbling crowd,
    And the minute I say that He must dress without delay,
    Little Mustard Makers, I tell you truly,
    That they dress His Holiness.

    Dignitary
    From the treasures of Saint Peter
    Comes the true crown.

    Grand Stationer
    You are Peter.
    On this rock rest the keys of Heaven.
    One, two—two, not ten.
    Misere, de profundis,
    The keys of the apostle Saint Peter.

    Grand Teamster
    Here, according to the ritual,
    The slipper that hides the foot,
    The foot when it is clothed
    Must be shod comfortably,
    Foot that must be kissed.
    Slipper, shake your bells,
    Dance to the tune of the ritual,
    Dance with the foot in the slipper.

    Chorus
    You cannot go
    By Foot.
    Although, Saint Peter, your two slippers
    Make a pretty pair.
    The walk would be too much.
    Oh, no—not too much.
    Tinkle, bell,
    For the purpose of galloping is
    To shake the bells.

    (End of the Slipper Dance.)

    Chamber Maid
    It was very gracefully danced.
    This young Pope is wonderful.

    Mustard Maker
    The Pope knows how to do everything perfectly.
    It's his job.
    He's infallible.

    Chamber Maid
    Everything! I don't think His Holiness is permitted to do everything!
    (sighing) It isn't like his predecessors for the Grand Chamber Maid.
    His flesh is strong. But yet, our Pope is charming. And a woman
    couldn't display more grace and lightness of foot.
    (sings)
    If he was a She-Pope
    Then he wouldn't be Pope!
    I really have to confess
    That I had three Popes
    Die on me.
    This one,
    Virginal and cold,
    Rosy cheeked and beardless chin
    And decorously modest.
    Can he be Pope or
    Is it a She-Pope?

    Mustard Maker
    Child, you merit excommunication.
    But, happily for you,
    You don't know what you're talking of.
    A woman cannot enter
    The conclave of Cardinals.
    And, it's really too much to tolerate
    A chambermaid here.
    A lot of water has flowed
    Over the dam
    Since the time of the
    Legends of She Popes.
    In our century of progress
    The Ceremony which we are preparing
    Is really superfluous.

    Chamber Maid
    Ah, yes—
    The Chair.

    Mustard Maker
    I say superfluous,
    But as Grand Mustard Maker,
    That is to say,
    As Grand Master of Ceremonies,
    I must insist that all Ceremonies
    Are scrupulously observed,
    Even superfluous ceremonies.

    Chorus
    The Chair
    Is not unpleasant.
    It is situated,
    The seat of the trial,
    The Holy Seat
    Under the auspices of
    The Sacred College of Cardinals.
    When the Pope seats himself,
    It's a sort of halo—a golden one
    Which puts its hat on in reverse,
    Riding in high school,
    Thus to pierce the hoop.
    I tell you, without malice,
    It is—in short, a chaise percee
    Curbstone of the well of truth
    Where we will see
    If Saint Peter
    Has all that is needful to be a—

    Antichorus
    Peter!

    Mustard Maker
    Papa.
    Don't be offended.

    (The Chorus takes up the refrain. Everyone leaves except the Mustard
    Maker and the Pope.)

    Mustard Maker
    Ouf! That was tedious
    But this outfit makes you ravishing,
    And you've been perfectly charming
    In this charade.

    Jane
    You think so?
    Me, I think it's too hot.
    Now where can I put all this?

    Mustard Maker
    You wore a corset?
    That's very imprudent.
    A corset is very imprudent.
    Nothing escapes the critic's eye.
    A corset worn by a pope!
    A corset is unprecedented.

    Jane (sitting on the Mustard Maker's knees)
    It's that devil of a chair which is imprudent. There. Do re me fa sol.
    It's not my corset they'll see.

    Mustard Maker
    Pooh! I'll think of something at the last moment.

    Jane
    Your inventions are super. When you run off with an English woman, and
    a married one at that—to hide her under the robes of a Pope—well, it
    seems a funny idea at first. I've begun to think it very chic. This
    proves you're very well connected.

    Mustard Maker
    One does what one can.

    Jane
    And then, you know, you have nothing to say. I named you my Grand
    Mustard Maker. At once you are transformed into my leading Dignitary,
    and always at my beck and call.

    Mustard Maker
    My darling—what an honor!

    Jane
    Tell me. Can you suppress the ceremony of the chair? It bores me.

    Mustard Maker
    Thank you for the kind word. (embracing her)

    Jane
    Then the chair is ceased?

    Mustard Maker
    That—never! I would be lacking in my duty.

    Jane
    Your duty! Your duty, sir, is to be my love, and to be at my beck and
    call. So, as for the chair, you're not concerned? (pause) Then, put a
    cover over it.

    Mustard Maker
    That's forbidden. And then, what do you want? I'm the only one who
    looks.

    Jane
    You alone?

    Mustard Maker (aside)
    Better be sure of that. (to Jane) Me alone!

    Jane
    That's not so bad.

    Mustard Maker (rising, furious)
    Without a doubt, you would prefer others!

    Jane
    I didn't say: many others.

    Mustard Maker
    Think, Madame, that I alone am enough. To say I had been obliged, from
    fear of mischance, not to permit an officer of the male sex to be
    around you (a sex to which I appertain and belong). That would have
    been pretty. If the Pope had peopled the Vatican with children she had
    mothered! No, Madame, no one will see you but me.

    Jane
    Fine. Don't get irritated.

    Mustard Maker (irritated)
    I'm not irritated.

    Jane
    Come hold me!

    Mustard Maker (embracing her)
    There—it's more fun to hold the Pope than holding her slippers. You
    make a better Pope than an English lady.

    Jane
    My dear.

    (Together, singing)

    Jane                              Mustard Maker
    All we think of is our love,      All we think of is our love,
    Our perpetual delight.            Our perpetual delight.
    It seems we have only             It seems we have only
    A single day                      A single day
    And the purple Cardinalcy.       And the purple Cardinalcy.
    You give the air less majesty,    You give the air less majesty,
    My dear, than                     My dear, than
    That yellow canary.               That yellow canary.
    My dear.                         My dear.
    Pope Jennie, my Papacy            Dear Jenny, your Papacy
    Reigns mistress of the world.    Reigns mistress of the world.
    As does my beauty.                As does your beauty.
    The gold of my blonde hair       The gold of your blonde hair
    I had for the disguise.          You had for the disguise.
    A taste which is                  A taste which is
    Not disappointed.                Not disappointed.
    You remember                      I recall
    When under the beams             When under the beams
    In the ship's cabin               In the ship's cabin
    I walked in my raincoat.          You walked in your raincoat.
    You remember my delight.          I recall your delight.
    You remember the green veil       I recall the green veil
    That hid me from the open sky.    That hid you from the open sky.
    Shady Lady or Saint Peter,       Shady Lady or Saint Peter,
    You who are Roman,                You who are English,
    I who am English,                I who am Roman,
    The love which burns             The love which burns
    In my breast.                     In your breast.
    I tell you                        I tell you
    Before the chair.                Before the chair.
    Let us laugh at                   Let us laugh at
    What they'll see;                What they'll see;
    It's not love that changes.       It's not love that changes.

    Mustard Maker
    All this is charming, but what always disturbs me is your husband. Has
    he come to Rome?

    Jane
    He won't recognize me any more than the others! And besides, he can
    never come. He's English. He said to me: “Jane, I love you.” What an
    imbecile! The English stay in England on the other side of the water.

    Mustard Maker
    No. All roads lead to Rome—that explains the affluence here. Besides,
    the feasts and ceremonies, your Ceremony, attract tourists from all
    nations. Furnished hotels are priceless. There are more English
    tourists than tourists from any other country. These are the
    statistics, Madame, there are 999 English tourists in every 1000
    strangers, and 1000 chances in every 999, that one of these English
    will be your husband. (aside) I believe I am deceived, but that's the
    impression.

    Jane
    You're right. He is in Rome! I saw a man in the procession under my
    dais, a man in complete armor, with red side-whiskers, who looked at
    me. I recognized his glasses. It's him!

    Mustard Maker
    Ah, you exaggerate! (aside) She'll make herself sick. It's not the
    right moment. (aloud) Let's protect ourselves from him. Let's take
    precautions!

    Jane
    Ah, yes!

    Mustard Maker
    I have an idea.

    Jane
    That's astonishing.

    Mustard Maker
    What?

    Jane
    I said that's not too soon.

    Mustard Maker
    I am going to close—

    Jane
    The Holy Trial.

    Mustard Maker
    No. I repeat to you—that is forbidden. I am going to close all the
    doors to the Vatican. No one will enter here.

    Jane
    No one?

    Mustard Maker
    No one.

    Jane
    And the dairy-man and the housemaids? The Ambassadors and the little
    red birds called Cardinals? And all the tradesmen?

    Mustard Maker
    Only the tradesmen and the Ambassadors of foreign powers. And to keep
    the traffic down, they'll have to pay to get in. They'll come in
    through the turnkey.

    Jane
    Tell me, are your Teamsters, Mustard Makers and Stations returning
    soon?

    Mustard Maker
    In six minutes. I am going to telephone the provisional orders without
    waiting for the entry of the Ambassadors.

    Jane
    That's fine! Don't let them through the turnstile without paying. At
    my court, that wouldn't be kosher.

    Mustard Maker (after having telephoned in the corner)
    Now, get dressed, the Ambassadors are coming.

    Jane
    Ah, shoot!

    (While the Mustard Maker helps her dress, they sing the last couplet
    as a duet. The Dignitaries return, then the Ambassadors.)

    Chorus
    O Rome, receive in your bosom
    John the Eighth—Our Holy Father—
    Who, having all that is needed to be a saint,
    Has what is needful to be a father.

    Swiss Guardsman
    Their excellencies the Ambassadors and Diplomats of Foreign Powers!

    (They scuffle in the door in a grotesque way.)

    Mustard Maker (stopping them)
    Gentlemen, pay attention; don't all talk at once.

    First Ambassador
    But, verdamm—who is to sprich furst?

    Second Ambassador
    Whoever it is, it won't be you.

    Third Ambassador
    I will be furst. I will mach a sprich.

    Mustard Maker
    Shut up, Guillaume! The first shall be last as in the Gospel.

    First Ambassador
    Listen! In vat order is it, eh?

    Mustard Maker
    Attention. It's in very simple order. From Alpha to Omega. In
    alphabetical order.

    First Ambassador
    This is a farz.

    German Ambassador
    And inzolent. And the alphabet in vat language, himmel!

    Mustard Maker
    In French—the diplomatic language.

    Swiss Guard
    In alphabetical order. The letter A. His Excellency, the Ambassador
    d'Angleterre is admitted to kiss the Pope's slipper.

    Jane (pinching the Mustard Maker)
    A mistake—a bad mistake.

    (The Ambassadors enter on all fours—followed by the Scots Guards.)

    Chamber Maid
    What handsome men.

    Chorus of Scots Guardsmen
    We are the Scots Guard,
    Covered in plaids,
    Scotch plaids.
    True patriots,
    We lack boots
    And almost resemble
    A unisex force
    Of valiant and disciplined
    French sans culottes.
    And if fighting is necessary,
    It's better to fight on all fours
    Than risk exposing one's rear.
    Such are the chances of war:
    The enemy in the rear
    And friends up front.
    Breeches on our knees
    Wouldn't have any pleats
    And that would be more polite.

    (The English Ambassador advances on all fours to the foot of Saint
    Peter's throne.)

    Jane (fainting and falling backward)
    Oh! My husband.

    (The English Ambassador remains prostrated.)

    Teamster (low, sustained by cannons)
    Saint Peter's ill,
    Loosen his dress.
    He's too hot.
    Get him some water.

    Mustard Maker
    Animal!
    Saint Peter's fine,
    Nothing is wrong.
    He's taken cold.
    Take the water away,
    Save it for another time
    And put his clothes back on.

    Teamster
    Chafe his hand,
    Very strongly.
    Again.
    There's hope.
    Bathe his face.
    Where's the basin?

    Mustard Maker
    No, better just place
    A key on his back.
    That remedy never fails
    Someone in society.
    Has someone a key ready?
    Here's one—that's fine.
    And the Pope will soon be fine.
    Actually, here's two,
    Which is even finer.

    All
    Saint Peter's getting better.

    (The Mustard Maker has seized one of the pontifical keys; the Grand
    Teamster holds the second key.)

    Mustard Maker (low to the Teamster, pointing to the Ambassador's head)
    Let it fall on his head.

    Teamster
    What's that you say?

    Mustard Maker
    Imbecile!

    (The Mustard Maker pushes the Teamster. The key falls but misses the
    English Ambassador.)

    Jane (returning to herself)
    He hasn't recognized me.

    Mustard Maker
    Well, Monsieur Ambassadeur,
    Kiss the slipper and explain your business.

    John of Eggs (kissing the slipper and remaining on his knees)
    Jane! Jane!
    We crept in England.
    Happy days.
    Short, too short.
    Jane! Jane!
    When free and easy,
    She ran away from me.
    A prelate,
    A very brutish rival,
    A Cardinal,
    Seduced her.
    This one here
    Or that one there.
    Oh, she treated me so inhumanely.
    Jane! Jane!

    Chorus
    He's troubled in his heart.
    It's our chorus.
    Understand us, sir,
    Is it pronounced Sir or Cr?
    Either give us pleasure.
    Who is this Jane?
    Where is this Jane?

    John of Eggs
    Great Saint Peter, have you seen her?

    Jane (aside)
    No, he hasn't recognized me.

    Mustard Maker
    We are desolated,
    Very desolated at what has
    Happened to you.
    But tell us who Jane is.
    We've never seen her.

    John of Eggs (getting to his feet, little by little)
    She had little tiny feet.
    Small, tiny—how to put it:
    Like Cinderella.
    To find a pair—
    Tiny, tiny—hey, but Saint Peter
    May His Holiness excuse me for
    Taking the liberty—
    Successor to the Apostles,
    Tiny, tiny feet—like yours.
    She trussed up her satin skirt
    With a little touch of her roguish finger.
    Who would've taken her for an adulteress?
    With a little touch of her finger,
    Saint Peter.
    May His Holiness excuse me,
    For the very great liberty,
    Successor to the Apostles,
    With a little finger—like yours.
    Her waist was slim as a shrub.
    Her waist could be grasped like a kingly scepter.
    Her girdle was like a necklace
    Which dissolves straightaway, straightaway.
    Hey, but Saint Peter,
    May His Holiness excuse me
    For the very great liberty,
    Successor to the Apostles,
    Straight, straight—like yours.
    If I see her pretty eyes,
    If I strain myself up to them,
    Somber, naughty, mysterious,
    Like a lair of criminals,
    If I see them, Saint Peter!
    May His Holiness excuse me
    For the very great liberty
    And my carelessness,
    (pointing to the Pope)
    But it's you, Jane.

    Chorus of Dignitaries
    Raving lunatic!
    Death is not enough!
    Sacrilege! Madness!
    But prison is for those who fear nothing.
    Hurl the blasphemer in its depth in peace.

    Chorus of Scots Guardsmen
    Treason, treason,
    Manners, duty,
    Are not in season.
    Vengeance! Vengeance! Vengeance!
    (very fast)
    If the Pope is infallible,
    The Ambassador is inviolable.
    Like the Bible,
    Inviolable,
    Like the law of the
    Twelve tables.
    If the Pope is not a Pope,
    Yes, if the Pope is an impostor—

    Privy Chamber Maid and Chorus (together)
    Is it a Pope?
    Is it a She-Pope?

    Scots Guard
    If he isn't infallible,
    Vengeance will be terrible,
    For if the Pope's infallible,
    The Ambassador's inviolable.

    Mustard Maker
    Silence! Silence! Silence!
    May your worries cease!
    This evening, the Sacred College
    To dissipate all misconceptions,
    To unmask any sacrilege,
    May Heaven protect us,
    Thwarting frauds and snares,
    Will hold the Holy Trial.
    Tonight at six o'clock,
    The best proof will be given!
    Calm yourselves, Highlanders.
    See you at the Chaise.

    All
    At the Chaise.

    CURTAIN


    Act II

    Scene I. A room in the Vatican. Mobile curtains the length of the


    back. Jane and the Mustard Maker in gallant undress.

    Mustard Maker
    Now, what shall we do with this Englishman?

    Jane
    Now? Oh, nothing at all! You are too stupid! Isn't it enough for you
    to have taken an honest woman from her husband? Now you want to steal
    an honest husband from his wife? It's disgusting.

    Mustard Maker
    Saint Peter!

    Jane
    You shouldn't cross someone like him in his conjugal rights. This man
    believes that I was his wife. He brazened it out. That proves he has
    memory and perspicacity. And that's always pleasing to a woman.

    Mustard Maker
    So, Saint Peter, my little Jennie.

    Jane
    And then, you know, you are not English, right? He said “Jane.” That's
    the modern style. You say “Jennie,” like donkey. It's vulgar! Who do
    you think I am—Joan of Arc?

    Mustard Maker
    That's right! I should never have let that Englishman in the door. In
    short, he should've paid his money at the turnstile! And then—if he
    was here he could make comparisons—and I would indeed have a
    complaint against that islander.

    Jane
    Say something!

    Mustard Maker
    What?

    Jane
    He hasn't left?

    Mustard Maker
    He's still around the Vatican, at the hotel Nain Jaune.

    Jane
    Go find him!

    Mustard Maker
    What?

    Jane
    I have a plan.

    Mustard Maker
    I am doubtful.

    Jane
    Are you?

    Mustard Maker
    I am referring to your infallibility.

    Jane
    Rest assured. I will mystify him.

    Mustard Maker
    Ah!

    Jane
    Darling, whatever I do is only to please you. When my husband is here,
    you will leave us together.

    Mustard Maker
    What?

    Jane
    I say: alone. But we will not be alone, because we will be together.
    That will reassure your jealousy.

    Mustard Maker
    But he's your husband.

    Jane
    Pooh! Who worries about a thing like that? Remember, my husband threw
    himself at my feet because he really loves me.

    Mustard Maker
    He may throw himself on you!

    Jane
    Oh, there's no danger. I will put on my slippers. And if he hurts me—

    Mustard Maker
    What if he hurts you?

    Jane
    Oh, if he hurts me, I will dance the slipper dance and you will come
    out of your hiding place and we will arrest him for the crime of lese-
    papacy.

    Mustard Maker
    But is there a hiding place here?

    Jane
    For sure.

    Duo
    Mustard Maker                     Jane
    The hiding place I know of       Go hide yourself—and shut up.
    Is a good place to hide.          For I have a niche for you,
    An observatory                   It's twice the size of a cupboard;
    From which one can spring out    Where one puts a lover on the shelf,
    Like a Jack-in-the-box.          To hide him without suspicion
    From this hole                   And can sleep while he's waiting
    One can pounce on an adversary    Or says “Be wise, indeed, my dear.”
    Or, if necessary,                And where he can
    Wait for the danger to pass.      Laugh at your husband.

    Mustard Maker
    Very well.

    Jane
    Then you will stay in the hiding place. You must not budge till you
    hear the bells from my slippers. At that signal, you will leap forth.

    Mustard Maker
    I will leap like an angry lion.

    Jane
    Eh! Be careful. He might be here to kill me.

    Mustard Maker
    To kill us both. That's what he always said he would do.

    Jane
    I will have courage for both of us. I will demonstrate to him that the
    Pope is a real man!

    Mustard Maker
    Now you relieve my mind.

    Jane
    Then, quickly, go get my husband. (aside) Oh, I am dying. Ah, my dear.

    Mustard Maker (running to the door)
    Maid, go get that Englishman.

    Chamber Maid
    What Englishman?

    Mustard Maker
    The English Ambassador.

    Chamber Maid
    But they are holed up in the Embassy.

    Jane
    Go get that gorgeous man!

    Chamber Maid
    I am going.

    Mustard Maker
    That gorgeous man! What a cry from the heart.

    Jane
    Oh, well, so what! If he hadn't been gorgeous, would I have married
    him?

    Mustard Maker
    So then, I am not a gorgeous man? And yet, it seems to me, Madame,
    that you preferred me to this child of perfidious Albion who is your
    husband.

    Jane
    You! Ah, give me rest from gorgeous men. Who does the best, who does
    the least. Besides, I love variety more than anything. You are not
    like my husband. He's athletic, you know, my husband. He boxes like
    all the English—he can fell an ox with a single punch.

    Mustard Maker
    Barbarous sport.

    Jane
    He stopped a wounded horse that wouldn't halt that way.

    Mustard Maker
    Ho, ho.

    Jane
    Are you afraid?

    Mustard Maker
    Me? Never. But to charm our spare time and to argue a bit, I am going
    to find Colonel Strong Arm.

    Jane
    Coward—go.

    Mustard Maker
    I wish to talk to our friend, Colonel Strong Arm do Costo of the
    Pontifical Zouaves. (aside) He understands English boxing. (crying out
    the window) Have Colonel Strong Arm de Costo come up.

    Jane (aside)
    Oh, I am going to see dear old John again. Ah—my dear. It's been a
    long time.

    (The Pope hides behind the curtain and doesn't show her head.)

    Colonel (entering, dressed in Scots kilts)
    They came to find
    Strong Arm.
    Strong Arm replied:
    Present.
    Strong Arm is here.
    AT EASE!
    Is there someone
    To be shown out?
    My two hands are
    Two vices.
    I am Colonel
    Strong Arm de Costo.
    I am strong
    Like a tower.
    My chest is a drum.
    Hear the war cry.
    Superior, supreme.
    Charge! Yahoo!

    Trio Bouffe
    Jane/Mustard Maker                Colonel
    You have your armor,             Two, four, six, eight. Complete.
    But what about                   My outfit is ready. Still,
    Your drawers?                     It's a little simplified and plain.
    His uniform is complete.          The protocol demands that
    Still, it's a little simple.      The visitors wear the uniform
    In honor of the Scots Guard.      In honor of the Scots Guard.
    So they come in a line,          So they come in a line,
    A little naked.                   A little naked.
    He is at his ease if his hanger   I am at my ease if my hanger
    Is a little naked.                Is a little naked.
    He is always in uniform.          I am always in uniform.

    Colonel (to the Pope, always hidden behind her screen, we only see her
    head)
    Saint Peter,
    I went fishing with a line,
    Like Saint Peter himself,
    In the Vatican gardens,
    Like a simple Saint Peter
    On the lake of Tiberias.
    It appears that
    They don't bite better
    On the lake of Tiberias.
    Then the enthusiasts of maggots
    Are made colonels,
    Otherwise called fishermen.

    Mustard Maker
    It isn't a bad job.

    Colonel
    And there, Saint Peter, I caught this little red fish. Do me the
    honor of accepting it! It has the color of blood, which suggests the
    image of war, and glory, and combat, yet without any need to tremble.
    Charge! Yahoo!

    Jane
    My old darling. Hurry! Hurry! Accompany our Grand Mustard Maker into
    this little hiding place.

    Colonel
    What little hiding place?

    Jane (still behind her curtain)
    There, to the left, my old sweetheart. Push on the button. The Mustard
    Maker will explain your mission. Go in, and don't come out except when
    I call. Lock yourselves in.

    Colonel
    It's a hidden cellar.

    Mustard Maker
    A wine cellar.

    Colonel
    Filled with wine.
    March! Yahoo!
    Bottles and Battles,
    Battles and Bottles.

    Mustard Maker
    It's not a battle,
    Only a bottle.

    Jane
    Will you get in?

    Colonel
    No more battles,
    Here are bottles.
    Many shapes
    Promising marvels.
    (they go in)
    But each of our conquests is
    Embellished in etiquette.
    Let's go in
    And pick grapes.
    Two words:
    Benediction,
    Benedictine,
    Grenadine.

    Mustard Maker
    Speak lower.

    Mustard Maker and Colonel (closing the door)
    Yahoo!

    Jane (leaving her curtain)
    Ouf!
    Be careful.
    Pssh!
    Shut them with a double lock.
    Tow precautions are better than one.
    (locking them in)
    They'll come out when I want them.
    And they will wait for the noise of bells,
    Which will fool them.
    They won't hear a thing.
    Oh, John!
    Ah, John.
    I'm waiting for you
    And I'm getting ready.

    (Taking a little mirror and powder puff, Jane disappears. From the
    other side, the English Ambassador enters with the Grand Chamber
    Maid.)

    Maid
    He's not the Pope,
    The infamous impostor.

    Sir John
    I believe he's my wife.
    Maid
    And I am sure of the imposture.

    Together
    We are sure she's a fake.

    Maid
    In my career
    As Grand Chamber Maid,
    I've buried three Popes
    I know exactly what
    Popes like.

    Sir John
    Three, three Popes! Three.
    This woman is an original.
    A maid to Popes, I see.
    Pontifical slut.
    Thus, I love you.
    Word of honor.
    On my oath.
    Shake hands!

    Maid
    Shake hands.

    Sir John
    Is this her chamber?

    Maid
    Yes. (simpering) I am already jealous of her.

    Sir John (aside)
    What an intoxicating woman!

    Maid
    You will see, o handsome islander.

    Sir John
    Whenever you wish,
    O divine aspirant
    To the papal tiara.

    Maid
    I will leave you. The Popess is coming.

    Sir John
    Farewell.

    (Chamber Maid leaves, they blow kisses as she exits. Enter Jane in
    gallant dishabille; she hurls herself into the room.)

    Jane
    And you, dear husband,
    My dear.
    How are you?
    I want to say:
    How do you do?
    But don't make a fuss!

    Sir John
    Jane! Jane!
    Yes, Saint Peter had your eyes.
    The Holy Father had your hair.
    Well, my cheri, my dear—
    How are you?
    I mean to say:
    Jane, I love you.

    Jane
    But you won't make a fuss?

    Sir John
    No, no, no.

    Together
    We took it easy
    In England.
    Happy days,
    Too short, too short.

    Sir John
    Jane! Jane!

    Together
    Jane                              Sir John
    When without care,                When without care,
    You took me there,                I took you there,
    A prelate,                        A prelate,
    A Cardinal,                      A Cardinal
    A popinjay,                      A popinjay,
    Your rival.                      My rival.
    It's all the same to me.          It's all the same to me.
    I was seduced.                   You were seduced.
    It's this one here                It's this one here
    Or that one there.                Or that one there.
    Oh, I was torn from you,          Oh, you were torn from me,
    It's inhumane.                   It's inhumane.

    Jane
    No, I am not inhumane.

    Sir Jane
    Jane, Jane.

    Together
    I love you, I love you.

    Jane
    Will you kiss me?
    Kiss, kiss, kiss.
    I mean to say:
    John, I love you.

    Together
    I love you.

    Sir John
    The Holy Father had your hair.
    The Holy Father had your pretty eyes.
    Here's the divine grace.
    Here's the image of God
    Divine! Divine!

    Jane (protesting weakly)
    No, no, no.

    Mustard Maker and Colonel (in the closet)
    Benedictine
    And Grenadine.

    Jane
    No, smile for mommy.

    Mustard Maker and Colonel
    And Anisette.
    Perfect love,
    We are conquered!

    Jane
    I love you.

    Mustard Maker and Colonel
    Creme de Cocoa and de cuckolds.

    Sir John (fainting)
    I love you.

    Jane (suddenly leaping forward and opening the closet)
    Arrest this street Arab.
    He tried to kill me,
    Our person,
    Our Holiness.
    But our goodness pardons him
    And only demands that he be arrested.

    (Enter the Colonel, the Mustard Maker, then the Chamber Maid and all
    the Dignitaries. Jane hastily puts on her pontifical robes.)

    Mustard Maker and Colonel
    He made an attempt
    To assassinate
    The person of
    His Holiness.
    Seize him.

    Sir John (to Colonel)
    Cowardly drunk.

    Chamber Maid
    What?
    How's that?
    He tried
    To assassinate
    The person—
    But since he only attempted,
    Our goodness pardons him?

    Sir John
    Truly,
    Women are creatures
    That it is wise to dread,
    That it is wise to respect.
    Yes, woman is indeed
    A creature
    That it is wise to respect.

    Chorus
    Let him be seized.
    But our goodness
    Pardons him and
    Only demands that he be arrested.

    Jane (recitative)
    There's a somber pit
    Where one throws,
    One throws everything.
    That's where it is.
    A dungeon
    And all is sewage.
    Our goodness pardons him
    So he may be forgotten.

    Colonel (drunk)
    Let him be forgotten,
    But first give him a trouncing!

    Chamber Maid
    Don't forget to forget him,
    Nor the benefit of trouncing him,
    Or I will tear up my apron
    And go home.

    General chorus
    There's a somber pit, etc.

    Finale
    Let him be forgotten.

    (They leave, taking Sir John, who cries lamentably.)

    Sir John
    Jane, Jane.

    (Only Jane, the Mustard Maker and the Colonel remain.)

    Colonel
    Grenadine!
    Cream de cuckolds.
    Anisette
    Parfait Amour!

    Mustard Maker
    He is drunk.

    Jane
    After a fashion.

    Mustard Maker
    It's very irritating!
    According to tradition
    He has to protect
    Your chair in the ceremony.

    Colonel
    Grenadine,
    Amaretto,
    Anisette,
    Pernod,
    Mixed nuts.

    Jane
    He has to protect my chair!

    Mustard Maker
    Alas.

    Jane
    Well, then, since he's drunk,
    We are saved.

    Mustard Maker
    Saved?

    Jane
    Yes, you will see.

    (They lead off the Colonel. The curtain opens on a great hall.)

    Scene II. The great hall of the Vatican. Windows center back. At the


    right of the audience and not far from the street, the Chair, elevated
    on three steps and surmounted by a dais held up by four columns, to
    which are attached folded curtains. Before the Chair there is an open
    trap with a ramp so disposed that one can pass under the street. The
    cortege begins. Enter the personages in the procession, the Mustard
    Maker, Jane, and the crowd.

    Teamsters
    We are the Teamsters.
    Proud men.
    We don't regulate price instability.
    If we went on foot,
    Like simple firemen,
    The mules would still be in the stable.

    Bull Carriers
    Vanity of vanities.
    All is vanity.
    To blow up a Bull,
    That's to build on sand.
    True, but already
    It's almost a dirigible.
    Poverty, calamity,
    Vanity of vanities.
    All is vanity.
    One follows another
    Like Antigone
    Follows Oedipus.
    It's done with a titter
    Like fritters.

    Leaders of the Bar
    We are the fast livers.
    We are sixteen.
    We bear them.
    Our fate is envied
    For we lead a life,
    A rollicking life.
    We are the fast livers.

    Gondoliers (carrying a gondola)
    We bring gaiety wherever we go,
    By mountains and by valleys.
    Never in water,
    It wouldn't be funny.
    We shake with laughter,
    Happy and familiar
    Because we're Gondoliers.

    Gondolier (detaching from the group)
    I believe something will happen
    That will be hilarious.
    The very thought
    Makes me shake with laughter.

    (He falls into convulsions and the others carry him off.)

    Zouaves
    We are the Papal Zouaves,
    That's us.
    We wear suave uniforms,
    Our hats are handsome
    With red poppies.
    They cram us with radishes and beans.
    We are made slaves
    To dusky Ethiopians.
    We guard the conclaves
    Of the Cardinals.

    The Comptrollers (trembling little old men with green eyeshades)
    We are the Comptrollers.
    We dispute tastes and colors gropingly.
    We are the Comptrollers,
    Who will watch right now
    Who will watch under the Chair.
    We have penetrating eyes,
    We have magnifying glasses
    And optical instruments.
    And we don't put up for an instant
    With Physiology.

    (Enter Jane, escorted by the Mustard Maker and the Colonel hiccuping,
    and the Ambassadors.)

    Mustard Maker
    Now is the appointed hour. (aside) O woman, be undulating and
    serpentine! How the devil is she going to do it?

    Jane (aside to the Mustard Maker)
    Have the Colonel accompany me to the Chair. You see, you are not the
    only one who must look.

    Mustard Maker (piteously)
    Indeed, I believe I am not to be the only one.

    Jane
    Obey!

    Mustard Maker
    Colonel Strong Arm, in accordance with the ritual will accompany His
    Holiness up to the Holy Seat. Draw the curtain and observe! You
    represent the sword and the temporal power.

    Colonel (hiccuping a little and caressing a bottle which he is hiding
    in his pocket)
    Forward march. Yahoo!

    (Colonel directs himself and the Pope towards the Seat which they
    ascend by steps. They close three of the four curtains, but neglect to
    close that which gives on the public so that the public see what is
    happening on the Chair when the parties think themselves isolated.)

    Mustard Maker
    And you, Comptrollers, perform your office. You are the spiritual
    observers. (aside) God help us!

    Chorus (of seven Comptrollers who move slowly towards the trap)
    March pitti-pat,
    This gate is a little low.
    Shall we see everything clearly?
    Do we have
    Everything we need?
    Do we know all
    We need to see?

    Comptroller (exhibiting an enormous lens)
    Well? Does that lens finish you off?

    Second Comptroller
    To observe under this pedestal,
    I have my monocle.

    Third Comptroller
    A monocle?
    That's nothing.
    Even irreverent.
    I have an improvement.
    It's a bifocal.

    Fourth Comptroller
    If the Pope's without fear of reproach,
    He won't fear the approach
    Of my telescope.
    (extending the telescope)
    Closer, closer, closer, closer.

    (Trumpets blare.)

    Chorus
    Have we done all
    So we can see all?
    Have we done all
    So we can peer?
    It's getting dark.
    Let's not forget
    To walk pitti-pat.
    This gate is
    A little low.
    Let's not forget
    To take our flashlight.

    (They light flashlights, then disappear. A circle of light projects
    around the chair, near which the Colonel is polishing off his bottle,
    while Jane ceaselessly encourages him to drink.)

    Mustard Maker (aside)
    O woman, woman, be serpentine and undulating. What's going to happen?

    Comptrollers (speaking through their noses under the platform)
    Holy Peter,
    Take your seat,
    So we can see your—

    Antichorus
    Peter!

    Jane (to the Colonel who ceaselessly puts the bottle to his mouth)
    Colonel, one drinks better sitting than standing. Take the trouble to
    seat yourself. Drink.

    Colonel (drunk)
    After you.

    Jane (taking him by the shoulders and seating him)
    Thus! Thus!

    (While the Colonel sits down and continues to drink, Jane draws the
    last curtain shut. Several voices at first, then a shout.)

    Chorus
    It's a Pope!
    Holy Peter!

    Mustard Maker
    I don't understand a thing!

    Chorus
    O Rome, take to your bosom
    John the Eighth, our Saint Peter.
    For to be a Saint,
    He has to have a Peter.
    Be proud!
    O Rome,
    That he proves a man.
    Glory to Saint Peter
    Glory to the Holy Man.

    (During this last chorus, Jane has lifted the curtain facing the
    public, and pushed the hiccuping Colonel from under the Chair. Jane
    sits on her throne and in this moment the crowd precipitates itself
    and raises the other curtains. The Comptrollers come out of the trap
    with admiring gestures.)

    Chorus
    Glory to Saint Peter.

    APOTHEOSIS

    CURTAIN


    Act III

    The Gardens of the Vatican. Venetian lanterns. It is evening.

    Scene I. Enter the Cardinals, Ambassadors, then persons in the

    ballet.

    Cardinals (seated at a table stirring their absinthe)
    Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.
    Let's beat our cups
    And let the wind trouble them.
    Don't bother us.
    We are four
    Who wish to fight
    The battle with care.
    Trouble them, don't bother us.
    You're read in the papers
    That it was the four Cardinal points
    Drinking their Grenadine.
    But at the present, we're ahead.
    The position has advantages.
    Four against four we fight.
    We want to fight four on four,
    To make it worth the trouble.
    The glimmer of hope
    In the green liqueur,
    From this glimmer hope springs forth
    To make it worth the trouble.
    The colors
    Under which we fight,
    Which rise and flutter,
    All in red,
    Trouble them, don't bother us.
    Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.
    Mea maxima culpa.
    Maxim—that's a gun,
    Rata tat tat.
    It's the holy liqueur.
    Let's fight our absinthe.
    Trouble them, don't bother us.
    Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa.

    (Divertissement. Enter dancing Chamber Maids.)

    Half Chorus (of singing Chamber Maids and Foolish Virgins)
    Yes, the Pope had ravished us.
    The Pope of Rome,
    Who's demonstrated he's Pope
    In emulation.
    And like a man alone,
    The Pope for life,
    From whose eyes nothing escapes.
    By a little trap,
    He is established Pope.
    That Chair is made for sitting.
    His Holiness
    Is a mirror
    Of Verities.

    Second Half Chorus (of Wise Virgins)
    Oh, if the Chair
    Serves its purpose,
    We are very happy.
    We, the Wise Virgins.
    You Foolish Virgins,
    Go dance your fandangos.
    We, the Wise Virgins,
    Incline our heads
    And our busts
    To other inclinations.
    Wiser ones!

    Chorus of Indignant Apothecaries
    The Chair is not what
    The silly people think.
    It has only a hole.
    But in recompense,
    According to the testimony
    Of wise men,
    There are two customs.
    It reminds the sovereign Pontiff
    That his power is not absolute.
    That glory clashes with life.
    Memento, homo, quia pulvis est.
    One must digest it or perish.
    All returns to nothingness.
    Et in pulveria revertis!
    And when Paradise opened to Peter's keys,
    The azure sky,
    The abode of pure hearts,
    Where liberty is pure and complete.

    Foolish Virgins (interrupting)
    But—Shh!
    Shh! Shh!
    Shh! Shh!
    It's a secret.

    Apothecaries and Virgins
    Mystery.
    Clyster.
    Clyster.
    Mystery.

    Apothecaries (taking out syringes)
    Here are the keys of Paradise,
    Perfected by Saint Peter
    To enter this place
    Is a resort,
    Provided it gets in.
    It's a charming instrument
    Which goes juice, juicy, juicy.
    Hail, Saint Peter,
    Prince of Pharmacists.
    But—Shh!
    Shh! Shh!
    Shh! Shh!
    And juice, juice, juice, juicy.

    All the Virgins
    If you believe all the ads
    For laxatives,
    Stomach soothers,
    Infamous.
    Still, it's not the Jews,
    Good souls
    Who deceive you.
    We are thinking of the health,
    That's all
    Of your souls.
    For heretics are
    Constipated persons.
    You, the faithful,
    Go in peace.

    Chorus of Constipated Believers (entering)
    We hurry on stretched wings
    To demand the kiss of peace.
    We are believers.
    Constipated—alas—
    Very constipated.
    We mention it only on the sly
    And we wait in the shadows
    For the salvation of our guts.
    We hope that our little mite
    Will, perhaps, do us honor.
    Our fasts,
    Our heavy fasting,
    Are prayers for the
    Repose of souls.
    Drying our skin,
    Not filing our plates.

    Virgins
    These good people haven't seen
    The Pope at all.
    Good people, you are now
    Going to see the test
    By which something happens.
    An apotheosis
    From weeds to roses.

    Believers
    Sitting on this august stool,
    We feel at our ease.
    The terror and emotion
    Reach us like a cooling drink.
    The Pope has the keys to the mystery.
    Rendering ashes to ashes.
    God makes Grace.
    May the power of Saint Peter
    Urge a purge.
    Purgatory.
    Urge the Consistory be purged.
    When our sins are purged
    And we feel ourselves lighter,
    We, the believers,
    Will no longer
    Be constipated.

    General Chorus
    But—Shh!
    Shh! Shh!
    Shh! Shh!

    (Burlesque exit of Apothecaries and Believers. Fandango of Wise and
    Foolish Virgins.)

    Scene II. Cardinals, Ambassadors, the Colonel.


    First Cardinal
    Now we have a Pope.

    Second Cardinal
    It's been difficult.

    Third Cardinal
    It seemed after the ceremony
    That this is a prodigious Pope.

    First Cardinal
    Who would've thought it,
    Looking at his callow face.

    Fourth Cardinal
    Appearances are sometimes deceptive.
    Isn't that your opinion, Colonel?

    Colonel
    To tell the truth,
    I was almost asleep
    During the ceremony.
    I was on duty.

    German Ambassador (to Belgian Ambassador, drinking)
    He vas zipped!

    Belgian Ambassador
    These Italians don't know
    How to drink like us.

    First Cardinal
    Then, Colonel,
    You didn't see anything?

    Colonel
    We soldiers are forbidden
    To think of politics.
    But I believe I was at my post.
    Charge! Yahoo!

    Belgian Ambassador
    What a bull shitter!

    (Noise of cannonade. General panic.)

    First Cardinal
    What's troubling our innocent amusements?

    Belgian Ambassador
    They won't let us drink quietly here.

    (Enter Concierge, then Highlanders, Pickpockets and English Tourists,
    then Salvation Army.)

    Concierge (breathlessly)
    M'lord, Colonel—the followers of the English Ambassador are at the
    garden gates. They have gathered a mob of tourists and are screaming
    for their master. They have killed the Grand Teamster.

    Colonel
    We'll teach them manners. How many are there?

    Concierge
    Ten thousand strong.

    Colonel
    Call in the Zouaves!

    (Zouaves rush in.)

    Colonel
    Fall in!
    Proper alignment.
    One, two.
    Fix bayonets!

    (The Zouaves line up, bayonets pointed in the direction from which the
    English must appear. The Ambassadors and Cardinals hide behind tables
    and chairs.)

    Belgian Ambassador (to Colonel)
    You know, Colonel, that diplomats are inviolable. Save us!

    German Ambassador (drawing his sword)
    Just let somebody even touch my mustache.

    Cardinal
    Solemn moment.

    (An instant of profound silence. The Zouaves summon the guard to them.
    Enter, dancing and cartwheeling, five ridiculous Highlanders playing
    bagpipes and other enormous instruments which they press to their
    chests; the goatskin bags are in the shape of breasts.)

    Colonel (shouting in a tone of defiance)
    Bagpipes are the only tits one ever sees in England.

    (Tourists enter in carnival costumes, guided by Captain Cook.)

    Chorus of Tourists (reading their Baedekers which they hold in their
    hands)
    Baedeker,
    Robert Macaire!
    In the Vatican, the collection
    Of antiquities of the
    First in the world
    And the most authentic.
    It is not yet finished.
    The largest part
    Has been dispersed
    In little souvenirs
    Given to foreign tourists.

    (The Tourists parade around the statues, the Cardinals and the
    Zouaves, surreptitiously detaching fragments from the statutes.)

    Chorus of Pickpockets
    Flouting all danger,
    Walking with hands in our pockets,
    Pretending to do nothing
    In the pockets of our neighbors.
    Nothing happens without a hitch.
    That gives a certain style
    That has to be kept up.

    (The Pickpockets amuse themselves by stealing bayonets from the
    Zouaves.)

    Tourists
    Baedeker.

    Pickpockets
    Robert Macaire!

    (The Zouaves' trumpet sounds “Guards to us.” Great uproar by both
    parties broken by the arrival of a large caisson of the Salvation
    Army. The Colonel utters his war cry, but nobody pays the least
    attention. The Highlanders blow themselves out of breath. Enter Jane
    and the Mustard Maker. Jane appears on the steps. Silence follows.
    Jane makes the grand gesture dismissing the combatants—who leave,
    accompanied by doleful music, sad enough to make bears weep. Jane
    descends the steps, leaning on the arm of the Mustard Maker.)

    Mustard Maker
    What are you thinking about, Saint Peter? You have a melancholy air.
    Are you not satisfied to be Pope, now that the world has been told you
    have all it takes to be a Pope?

    Jane
    If you think it's fun to pass for a man! that diverts amateurs.

    Mustard Maker
    That's what has to be done.

    Jane
    And yet, there's something troubling me. I think of my poor husband
    shivering all alone in a dungeon.

    Mustard Maker
    Your husband! You think too much, Saint Peter. Me, I think things are
    fine just the way they are.

    Jane
    Oh, as for him, it's all the same to me. Only there are always those
    idiots who walk in the flower beds and ruin everything we've built up.
    Still, it's funny to speak of my husband—it makes me think of
    remarrying.

    Mustard Maker
    You remarry! Go back to that imbecile!??

    Jane
    Oh, him or someone else! To remarry—an idea like that. With the first
    imbecile to come along.

    Mustard Maker
    Chose me. Speak.

    Jane, Mustard Maker (duo)
    What's the papacy
    As a prize for beauty?
    By our will
    The veil's removed.
    Trumpets, kisses, fanfares.
    Love declares itself.
    Our hearts are great lords—
    Better than the tiara.
    I offer my wealth
    To your image.
    Take away the incense, magicians.
    If a man has honors,
    Woman has homage.
    Thus, the veil is removed.

    Mustard Maker
    But, imbeciles that we are:
    We haven't considered.
    You can't marry me.
    You're already married.
    Marriage is sacred,
    Indissoluble.
    You would be a bigamist.

    Jane
    Pooh!

    Mustard Maker
    And besides, you're Pope.

    Jane
    Pope. But it's our business.
    I ought to get something out of this.
    You're going to see.
    Call everybody.

    Mustard Maker
    Even your husband?

    Jane
    Especially my husband.
    Fish him out of his dungeon.

    Mustard Maker
    To fish him out,
    I am going to call
    Colonel Strong Arm
    Who loves to dip
    His oar in troubled waters.
    (shouting)
    Colonel!

    Colonel (entering)
    I fish precisely, Saint Peter.
    I have my trident like Neptune.

    (Colonel presents arms with his trident.)

    Mustard Maker
    Then, continue.
    Show your catch.

    (Mustard Maker raises the lid of the dungeon.)

    Colonel
    Charge!
    Yahoo!

    (Colonel rushes to the hole. He thrusts his trident in. Sir John
    climbs the long handle like a monkey and appears, sopping wet.)

    Sir John
    Hoo, hoo, hoo.
    A dungeon
    Is a rheumatic hole
    Under a floor.
    Very bad.
    A dungeon smiles
    Like a wolf-trap.
    Rendez vous.
    On short rations
    Of crumbs, of suet,
    Of water, of powder,
    Of old nails
    And everything people throw out,
    Of all the sewage
    That's under all dustbins.
    That's ugly.
    Hoo, hoo, hoo.
    I was in the condition of a monkey
    That needed to change his clothes.
    By the round hole—only star in my heaven,
    I saw a glimmer of light,
    For the astronomers, the most superficial.
    It was plugged up.
    A night with no moon.
    Ah, how much better to have been
    The sixteenth man
    Under your stool.
    Hoo, hoo, hoo!

    Jane
    Well, old friend, don't give us cause to put you back where you were
    before.

    Sir John (aside)
    Be careful.
    Oh, Saint Peter—gracious!
    To return to that hole.
    What must I do to earn your pardon?

    Jane
    Really, it's simple. You see where marriage leads. That's what you get
    for chasing after a woman.

    Sir John
    Even one's own.

    Jane
    Especially one's own! But the Pope is here to safeguard morality. Have
    you kept your marriage contract?

    (One of the valets comes forward with a white satin cushion; Sir John
    places his marriage contract on it, and the valet returns it to Jane.)

    Jane
    Why didn't you give your contract to a vestryman before splashing
    around in the dungeon? It's disgusting. (to valet) Bring tongs.

    Sir John (aside)
    She's got balls! No wonder she passed the stool test. What did they
    see, goddam, what did they see?

    Jane
    Mustard Maker—take it in your right hand. You have no gloves. Use
    those tongs. (giving him the tongs) And you, Sir John, watch yours!
    They're black enough. And put it in your left! Good. (she has the
    contract carried by the valets between the two men) Each take one side
    and pull. One, two, three. (the contract tears and Sir John and the
    Mustard Maker fall down) And that's how the Pope breaks a marriage.
    (to Sir John) Now, you are free. (Sir John starts to leave) Don't go.
    It's not over. To maker sure you will leave your wife in peace the
    Pope is going to give you another, and well chosen, it doesn't matter
    who.

    Chamber Maid (advancing timidly)
    Saint Peter.

    (Jane seizes the Chamber Maid's hand and puts it precipitously into
    the hand of Sir John.)

    Jane
    Go, go, my children.
    Have many others.

    Chamber Maid
    We are united.
    Blessed.
    It's over.
    It's a bit fictitious.
    It's a little hasty,
    But definitive.
    Oh, my blonde milord whom I love,
    You are my fourth.
    But I don't remember the other three.
    I don't even regret them.
    We have a Pope,
    My blond milord.
    For he's a true Pope.
    One cannot escape
    What happened today.
    God alone has in his hand
    The Pope of the future.
    Yes, you are my fourth,
    Yes, my handsome Englishman,
    I love you.
    We are united.
    Blessed.
    It's all over.
    Or rather, our love immense
    Only from today will commence.

    Jane
    You are happy then? Thank the Pope. And as the Pope wants to be happy,
    too, I am going to wed.

    Chorus
    What?
    The Pope marry?
    That's phantasmagoric!
    Shall we laugh?
    Shall we cry?
    What is this strange dream?
    What troubles the Holy Father?
    If to this wish one complies,
    The Holy Father will be a papa.
    But then he won't be Holy.
    O Rome, reject from your bosom
    This Holy Father.

    Jane
    Oh, yes! I am going to marry.

    Chorus
    Why? Why?

    Jane
    Because a woman is changeable and I am a woman.

    Chorus
    You are a woman?

    Jane                              Mustard Maker, Sir John,
                                      Chamber Maid
    The wife is me.                   The wife is you.
    The woman is me.                  The woman is you.

    Mustard Maker
    As for me, The Mustard Maker, I say
    That everything is revealed.
    In truth,
    His Holiness,
    In reverse of the custom,
    Dances in a lady's slipper.

    Jane
    Shoot, let's remove the disguise.
    It's not too soon.
    I hide nothing any further.

    Chorus
    It's a broad revelation.
    It's a woman.
    The proof's compelling,
    This Pope wears a corset.

    Jane
    Nothing is hidden
    In the slipper dance
    Except a prudent corset.

    Chorus
    Quite unprecedented.

    Comptrollers (in quavering voices)
    But what is this antiphony?
    What unforeseen spectacle?
    The Pope we just saw
    Had no corset.
    Not the one we saw.
    We weren't drunk.
    We saw the Pope.
    The true Pope of Rome,
    The Holy Father,
    The Saintly man,
    The Pope we saw,
    The Pope we just saw,
    Was the Pope we saw.

    (The chorus chirp the last verse endlessly.)

    Jane
    Take the tiara
    To the treasury.
    I abdicate.
    The tiara is not authentic.

    Chorus
    The tiara is not authentic?

    Comptrollers (without stopping)
    We saw the Pope.

    Jane
    This Pope swears to your astonished eyes. I swear to you on my eternal
    soul, people, the Pope, it was the Colonel.

    All
    The Colonel!

    Colonel (spoken)
    What a flash of light!

    Jane
    It's your business, go. I'm an expert.

    Chorus
    The Colonel

    Jane
    I'm an expert.

    Comptrollers
    We saw the Pope, we saw.

    Chorus
    O Rome, receive in your bosom
    The Colonel. Our Saint Peter.
    Who, if he has nothing of the Saint
    About him, at least has—

    Antichorus
    A Peter!

    Chorus
    Be proud, O Rome,
    That he proves a man.
    O Rome, receive in your bosom
    Saint Peter.
    Glory to Saint Peter.
    Glory to the Holy Man.

    Jane                              Mustard Maker, Sir John,
                                      Chamber Maid
    The wife is me.                   The wife is you.
    The woman is me.                  The woman is you.

    FINALE

    Jane
    Beware. The human eye is subject to error and can be deceived by the
    simplest trick under the stool—wonderful test. A photographic
    display. But one must cover it—because one cannot change the subject
    while holding the pose.

    Chorus
    Beware.
    The human eye is subject
    To error and can be deceived
    By the simplest trick
    Under the stool—
    Wonderful test.
    A photographic display.
    But one must cover it—
    Because one cannot change
    The subject while holding the pose.


    CURTAIN