CAST OF CHARACTERS
The HIGHWAYMAN (Le Brigant)
The PARISH PRIEST (Le Curé)
PRODUCTION NOTES
First edited by Gustave Cohen, the Farce nouvelle à deux personnaiges, c’est à savoir Le Brigant et le Curé appears as #10 in the Recueil Cohen (RC, 79–82). It was later reedited with myriad annotations by both Koopmans (RFlorence, 173–79) and Martin in SFQS (https://sottiesetfarces.wordpress.com/category/confession-du-brigant-au-cure/#sdendnote9anc). Of Norman provenance (SFQS, “Introd.”) and comprised of 188 octosyllabic verses in mostly rhyming couplets, the play was summarized by Faivre in Répertoire (109–10) and briefly by Tissier in the context of Blue Confessions (RF, 6: 379). It also bears some similarities to an itsy-bitsy farce interpolated into the Life of Saint Fiacre (TFR, 28–32). Koopmans is confident, based on a textual allusion to the devaluation of the escuz vieulx, that Le Brigant et le Curé dates from after 1514 (v. 6; RFlorence, 173n, 179). I know of no modern French or English translation.
Plot
The time: Holy Week (la longue sepmaine); the place: a deserted path in the woods. As in The Con-Man’s Confession (#1), Easter is coming, but so too is trouble. A Parish Priest (Le Curé) sallies forth to confess the flock, only to be accosted by a starving Highwayman, and, in order to save his skin, he distracts the bandit with—what else?—the sacrament of confession. The pair will cover all the bases: keeping the Sabbath, attending Mass, many of the seven deadly sins, plus the Ten Commandments, especially “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife,” “Thou Shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain,” and—wink, wink, nudge, nudge—“Thou shalt not steal.” After a series of clerical queries that can best be qualified as going through the motions as they target the spectators’ own misconduct, absolution is seemingly granted. The question is: what motions? But, first, a confession of my own about my initial reading of this farce nouvelle:
I didn’t get it. The premise was unverisimilar, even for farce. I mean: what were the odds that, in the middle of a hold-up, a bandit would be moved, in honor of Easter, to confess his sins? And what was so funny about highway robbery or of the imminent threat of death by dagger (v. 51)? If anything, the events were borderline tragic, as in a morality play. Make that a mortality play or, worse: a bad comedy. I guess I was in good company. With the exception of Faivre, Koopmans, and Martin, critical analysis was virtually nil, save a passing reference in Bowen (“Cliché,” 39) and Kent (“Signe trompeur,” 98–105). Alan Knight deemed our play a “dialogue” (AG, 95), as did Martin (SFQS, “Introd.”); and Cohen dismissed it as “lackluster and uninteresting” (RC, xii). Wrong! ruled an exasperated Koopmans: Cohen had “understood nothing” (RFlorence, 179). It turns out that, materially, gesturally, and comedically, the right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing. Literally. One man reaches into the dark recesses of a penitent’s conscience; the other, into the dark recesses of a money bag hidden on the cleric’s person. The sacrament is but a piece of sleight of hand during which the countdown of sins facilitates the counting up of the Priest’s coins—that is, as soon as the thief can get his hands on that sizable purse.
One good shakedown deserves another and, by the end, “they take their leave of one another, one lightened of the weight of his sins, the other of the weight of his écus” (Répertoire, 109). In a way, the entire farce is one grand pantomime buttressed by a series of double entendres for what’s really going on: namely, an unburdening of a more physical nature. And the big joke is on the Priest who gets had as the audience gets the last laugh about how “enriching” confession can be (Répertoire, 109–10). In a word, the Highwayman makes out like a bandit and the Priest gets off easy. In more ways than one.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and, long I stood and looked down both as far as I could. But I’m a rather different traveler than Cohen, Faivre, or Koopmans. To my eye, both protagonists were bent in the undergrowth. Where Koopmans and Faivre find all the equivocation financial, I find it sexual too, and so does Martin (SFQS, note 41). The two are hardly mutually exclusive. It’s not only the Priest’s coin purse on the line but that other purse (la bourse or l’aumônière): the lexical and scenic double for the scrotum and the upcoming star of Slick Brother Willy (#11). Highway Robbery is the story of the literal cut-and-run of a metaphorical castration when the thief uses his scissors (les forces) to snip the Priest’s purse strings (RFlorence, 175n). The whole thingy reminded me of the twelfth-century fabliau Estula, in which two hungry, cabbage-stealing bandits rip off a priest’s surplice and stole, snagging his “head and tail” (Bloch, Scandal, 35–36). Ouch. Careful, folks, lest trickery cut you off at the knees. Or higher. This is no quem quaeritis trope of Holy Week in which the three Marys seek Jesus in his empty tomb. This farce seeks empty pants: Quem quaeritis, not in sepulchro but in pantalones?
If Highway Robbery can be said to have a denouement, it’s less an unknotting than a cutting off. But who has screwed over whom? Only dramaturgy will tell. When the Highwayman threatens violence, is it also sexual violence? Is that threat pleasing to his prey? Does the Highwayman enjoy flirting with the Priest? Just how far is the Priest willing to go to save his (fore)skin? Which is the better proffer or the more daunting demand? Money? Sex? Absolution? Is the bottom line that the Highwayman gets paid for having sex with the priest? And does the Priest get “cleaned out” in every way? All in all, if the Priest is the butt of the joke, we must determine how literally to take that. Either way, a queer reading is de rigueur. On one unholy road, the specter of sodomy hints at where sinful clergymen ought to stick it: the chocolate highway to heaven.
And what of absolution itself, misspoken as ego asuote (v. 176) and not ego absolvo te (RC, 82n)? What of contrition? For Tissier, this is a “real, albeit theatrical confession” (as opposed to a “false” or “pseudoconfession” [RF, 6: 379]). For Faivre, it’s the fake contrition of “impenitent penitents” and an “auto-glorification of their guilty activities” (Répertoire, 109). But pseudopenance and pseudoabsolution will not do at all. They are “unhappy” performatives in the Austinian sense in that they fail to come to fruition (HDTW, 20–24). Like the overgrown roots that the Highwayman claims to “cut off at the knees” (v. 105), the garbled liturgical language seems likewise to cut off salvation. Greedy clergymen are the real highway robbers, forcing others into lives of penury and thievery but subject to punishment from the outlaw actors of theater.
Characters and Character Development
Thin, drawn, and out of work, the unnamed Highwayman (Le Brigant) opens with a soliloquy on the pains of poverty, a clever piece of metacommentary on the life of the starving actor (vv. 9–12). Upon spying the Priest, he is motivated by hunger, anger, and resentment to improvise quite the little metaperformance of confession. And he knows exactly how to distract his mark: with the pleasures of the flesh. What with all his assertions about men, women, roots, shafts, pins, prickles, and pricks, he appears to issue a cis-gender rejection of the very homoeroticism that dominates the proceedings (vv. 94–106; below, § “Language”). But how far is he willing to go, phallic dagger in hand? Again, only dramaturgy will tell what to make of a dual delivery that alternates rapidly between sotto voces and direct address. The Highwayman also alternates between vous and tu, at first marking the social superiority of the priest with vous, which changes once he ascertains that they’re alone. Otherwise, his French is fairly good, notwithstanding my occasional “ain’t” for effect. From what little we hear of it, his Latin is good too—better than the Priest’s (v. 34; SFQS, note 11).
Our ecclesiastical everyman may or may not be called “Maurice” (as in #5, Confession Follies);1 and his dominant character traits are gluttony, lust, and greed (SFQS, “Introd.”). He transports food and wine on his person, he enjoys a nice stiff one, and, throughout the pat-down, he is infinitely more concerned for his lost money than for the thief’s lost soul (SFQS, note 24). Oddly polite at first (vous instead of the pastoral tu), he is sore afraid, which could account for his Latinate mumbo-jumbo approximating the liturgy (SFQS, note 29). And who wouldn’t be afraid with a thief fumbling around in your junk? Unless, of course, the pat-down is exactly what the Priest is after in the woods. Are these woods the equivalent of the Bois de Boulogne as red-light district? After all, he’s loaded with five or six hundred dollars on him (vv. 67, 133): all set up for the confessional money shot.
A potential third personage is invoked so vividly that one might wish to stage her in flashback with: “I remember it as if it were yesterday.” The female tripe-seller, a fixture in Rabelais and the subject La Trippière in the selfsame Recueil Cohen (#52), is a character type in her own right. Notorious for her vicious temper and her double-edged knife (SFQS, note 62), she’s always ready for a good tongue-lashing. Here, she embodies the play’s central castration metaphor (below, § “Language”).
Language
Between the Norman dialect and the messy versification, Koopmans’s poetic anarchy (RFlorence, 179) mirrors theological anarchy. Just wait till you hear what they do to the liturgical Sursum corda (“Lift up Your Hearts”) and the Gloria Patri (“Glory Be”) (below, notes 8 and 20). Under normal farcical circumstances, prayers in “kitchen Latin” are decipherable, as in At Cross Purposes (FF, 241–44) or Holy Deadlock (HD, 217–21). But in Highway Robbery, the Latin is so corrupt that even a frustrated Cohen confessed that he couldn’t make heads or tails of it (RC, 82n). And, then, there’s the taking of the name of the Lord in vain. Indeed, this was the play that inspired my glossary (“ABT,” § “Curses and Exclamations”). If you’re wont to keep score: the most common euphemism for the blasphemous Dieu is bieu, spoken no fewer than ten times in a large variety of expressions including la croix bieu, maulgré bieu, mort bieu, vertu bieu, ventre bieu, chair bieu, and corps bieu, along with a profusion of sang bieu (vv. 33, 63, 116, 148, 165). But, beyond that, in violation of the Third Commandment, there are multiple instances of the uneuphemized Dieu: Dieu mercy, pour Dieu, par Dieu, par le Dieu qui me fist, the wholly impious par la chair Dieu (literally “God in the flesh”), and—way over the top at v. 89 for the Easter moment of eternal life—par la mort sans remission (“death without remission”).
This is a stickup; so, there’s plenty of fumbling around with that purse as scrotum (la bourse), obscenely confused with la conscience on occasion when denoted by the direct object pronoun alone (la). And, thanks to the thief’s special scissors, there’s a fair amount of snipping and cutting related to more than the pins and pricks of sinful cavorting with women (vv. 93–106; below, note 11). Technically, an espinette is a spinet—tickling the ivories? fingering the strings?; and the espingles are the pins used to stitch women into—or out of—their dresses. But the meaning grows thornier when aligned with the play’s roots and thistles that impede the Highwayman’s smooth passage. In addition to being associated with Lenten jousting in the famous theatrical city of Lille, an espine signified a penis (SFQS, notes 35 and 36), and a small one at that. No matter how you cut it, this prickle-tickle is designed to have the audience in stitches as it cuts and runs. Like the tripe-seller’s knife, everything cuts both ways. The question is whether anyone gets split wide open. And where.
Sets and Staging
The action takes place, possibly on Sunday, in the woods where the Highwayman lies in wait. In light of the Priest’s contention that he overspent on special Easter lighting (vv. 61–62), the illuminated church might be depicted in the background … unless that was a lie. His humble—or not so humble—manse might be located on either side of the stage or envisaged liminally before the curtain goes up. For Martin, the Priest is already en route, picking up a dead tree branch as both a weapon and a walking stick for the long and dangerous trek to the parish. Cities were “normally located in forests,” he recalls, which were teeming with “wild dogs, wolves, and robbers” (SFQS, note 10). But I’ve started the Priest off at home, where he might engage in a host of religious or irreligious activities before setting off. Take your pick of the seven deadly sins—I’d go with homosocial lust—but, by all means: account for how he came by such a large sum of money in the first place. Has he been pilfering from the collection plate? Picking the pockets of an assembly line of penitents?
That aside, the main thrust of the play’s financial, sexual, and theological equivocation is physical comedy. Since there are no stage directions, the action must be intuited and resolved during the snatching of the purse. What can I say? It’s all in the hands. To borrow an Alanis Morrissette lyric—she did play God in Dogma, you know—he’s got “one hand in his pocket and the other one’s” … wherever. It’s a delicate scenographic balance between what the audience must see but which the Priest cannot. We also know that the Highwayman has considerable trouble getting at the Priest’s booty because “the opening is too small” (le pertuis est trop petit [vv. 120–21; SFQS, note 47]). Needless to say, the canonical penitential genuflection comes in handy; but anyone daring to stage Highway Robbery must decide how far to take the climax.
Costumes and Props
The Highwayman’s threadbare clothes are well described in his first speech; and also wields the trademark pair of scissors for snipping off his victims’ purses. If the Priest is staged at home, there might be any number of implements on hand for protection: a rod, a staff, a baseball bat, and—to channel Saint Julian the Hospitaller (v. 124)—an oar.2 He bears the key prop too: a bulging purse stuffed with coins of every shape and size (grans et menuz). These include escuz vieulx (v. 6) and a rouelle, so-called because it’s round (v. 55), whence today’s je n’ai pas un rond (“I don’t have one red cent”). If updated, try an enormous wad of small bills. In terms of comestibles, the cleric’s references to his empty cup (vv. 55–56), jug of wine (v. 65), and food or breadstuffs (la crouste d’ung pasté [v. 176]) intimate that he might have stashed a repast for his journey. Plus, to highlight the intertext with The Chicken Pie and the Chocolate Cake (FCMF, 151–58), I recommend those very items: a chicken pie and chocolate cake. And do have some fun with anything else he’s hiding under his cassock. Most important: some stale breadcrust, piecrust, or crackers to pass for a makeshift Eucharist during the pseudosacramental moment of absolution. And don’t forget that chocolate for dessert.
Scholarly References to Copyrighted Materials (in order of appearance and indicated by © within the text)
· “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” By Yip Harburg and Jay Gorney. ASCAP Work ID: 320093878.
· “The Big Muddy.” By Pete Seeger. BMI Work #114413.
· “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” By Julia Ward Howe. (19th c.)
· “More, More, More.” By Gregg Diamond. ASCAP Work ID: 430240205.
· “Carry That Weight.” By John Lennon and Paul McCartney. BMI Work #187794.
[Several cross-cut mimed scenes of the Priest enjoying his bounty while the starving Highwayman walks alone on a deserted road still wet from a recent rain.]
[Scene 1]
The HIGHWAYMAN begins
My brothers, can you spare a dime?©
I’m broke: not one red cent on me.
Just hang me from the highest tree!
Hang any man who can’t squeak by!
[Say, brothers, can you spare a dime?©]
Come on now, folks: can’t be hangin’ on to that spare change! I’m tapped out, I said, on my last legs. [Just look at me!] You name it, I ain’t got it. I’m a bag o’ bones. It’s been so long since I worked, I can’t even fill out this here coat. I’m almost out of everything at home: bread, ham, cheese. Pity the fool who crosses my path before this day is out.3
[He finds a hiding place. Lights down.]
[Scene 2]
[Lights up on the Priest in his manse.]
The PRIEST
Well, what do you know! Easter is coming. I’d best take my chances and stop by the parish to confess the flock because they’ve certainly been most remiss. One might even go so far as to say they know not what they do. So, I suppose the very least I can do is get their load off my conscience.
Praise the Lord, I’m all set, and not a moment too soon! But I better hurry. Come to think of it, a man without a staff is at the mercy of the dogs. [He fetches a staff and a picnic lunch.]
Onward, ho! [From ghosties and ghoulies and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night.… And, yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,] I will fear no evil. The Lord be with me, and Mother Mary too.4
[He hides his purse deep on his person and departs.]
[Scene 3]
[In the woods]
The HIGHWAYMAN
Jesus H. Christ on the cross! I’m just wasting my time out here. There’s not a single living soul.
But [wait]! God strike me dead if that ain’t some sucker headed right this way. Whoa-ho-ho! Better make sure he ain’t got company.
[Sotto voce] Jesus H. Christ! Prepare to meet thy Maker, Domine Padre, ’cause you’re gonna die!
The PRIEST
Looks like I’m making pretty good time. I’m almost there.
[While he reaches for a snack, the Highwayman pounces. The Priest attempts to flee but is restrained by his captor.]
[Help! Murder!]
The HIGHWAYMAN
[Imitating him] “Help! Murder!” Not so fast, there preacher man. Where do you think you’re going there, sir?5
The PRIEST
What’s this? Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy! For God’s sake don’t hurt me!
The HIGHWAYMAN
Anybody else comin’? Seen anybody walkin’ or ridin’ by this way?
The PRIEST
I haven’t seen a single living soul.
The HIGHWAYMAN
You seem nervous, my fine fellow.
The PRIEST
At first, I thought there might be a bad element out here but, no, that’s certainly not the case, praise the Lord.
The HIGHWAYMAN
This is a stick-up. And I won’t be leavin’ here today till I’ve counted up every cent you got.
The PRIEST
[Sotto voce] This is worse than I thought.
Lord have mercy! Don’t let this come to blows!
The HIGHWAYMAN
Is this a dagger you see [before you? the handle toward my hand]? One more word outta you, pal, and—[you tryin’ to get crucified here?]—Jesus fucking Christ! I’ll split your ass wide open!6
The PRIEST
Not one word. I’m no fool. Nobody will ever know.
The HIGHWAYMAN
So, pony up. Fork over the dough.
The PRIEST
[He speaks very loudly, hoping to be overheard.] In the name of the God who gave me life: [no cup of mine runneth over]. I don’t have a penny to my name.7
The HIGHWAYMAN
Keep your damn voice down! Can’t have nobody gettin’ in our way.
The PRIEST
Quite right, [my son], I’d forgotten, I swear. But, truth be told, I disbursed all my funds on the special lighting for the holidays. [He is the Resurrection, you know; He is the Light.]
The HIGHWAYMAN
Of all the dirty, underhanded—. Jesus H. Christ! You’ll soon be singin’ a different tune, lousy, tightwad priest. On your knees!
The PRIEST
I could give you a jug of wine, my good sir. Let’s be friends.
The HIGHWAYMAN
Just fork over the dough, I said. Five or six hundred and nobody gets hurt. And, then, you won’t have to worry ’bout nobody gettin’ it off you.
The PRIEST
In the name of the God who gave me—. My whole life, I’ve never had that kind of money in my purse.
The HIGHWAYMAN
Better not make me angry ’cause if I have to blow my top …
The PRIEST
For that, I’d be truly sorry.
The HIGHWAYMAN
Which reminds me: this whole Holy Week, I’ve been meaning to get to confession.
The PRIEST
Aha! Then, by God, let’s drop everything and I’ll hear your confession! Pray, make yourself comfortable. Have a seat. Or stand erect. Or get down on your knees and—say it with me now—benedicite Dominus! [Bless me Father, for …]
The HIGHWAYMAN
Say it the hell for me!
The PRIEST
Benedicite et Domin … Domin … ummm … Dominus vobiscum … cum … cum … O cum all ye fidelis et cardiac workout! In the name of the Father, the Son, and the holy spigot: in spiritus sancti, amen.8
Now you: “[Bless me, Father,] for I have sinned. Je me confesse …”
The HIGHWAYMAN
Say it the hell for me, bub!
The PRIEST
“I confess my sins to God. Je me confesse à Dieu.”
The HIGHWAYMAN
Adieu? You tryin’ to beat it already? Damn, sleazy priest!9
The PRIEST
It’s what you say at confession. [For your salvation.]
The HIGHWAYMAN
[For your salivation, you mean, you damn pervert!] One more word outta your trap and I’m gonna kill you.
The PRIEST
Pray, continue, my son. Do go about your business. Have you stolen from anyone? Have you been … poking around in what isn’t yours?10
[The Highwayman removes his scissors and attempts to cut off the Priest’s purse.]
The HIGHWAYMAN
Jesus flippin’ Christ, what do you think? Strip-pokin’—you bet your ass—with plenty o’ pretty girls. Gettin’ me some action off one and, then—next! Up you go! Sharin’ that booty right on down the line. Snippin’ the stitches right off them dresses and, then, it’s cut and run!
The PRIEST
And for that, may God forgive you, sir.
And how’s it going with the sin of anger? If you’re hot-tempered, that’s simply not going to cut it.
The HIGHWAYMAN
When I’m walking the roads and I see a root or a thistle or some prickle-bush gonna stick me between the legs, I get downright snippy. So, I pretty much take the name o’ the Lord in vain right off the bat. And, then, I cut that low-down sucker off at the knees and not one more word about it. All on the down-low. All the way down to the stub.11
The PRIEST
May God forgive you for that too. But you mustn’t resort to self-help, you know. [Don’t be a bad actor.] And you really must refrain from taking other people’s money. [You owe it to yourself.]
The HIGHWAYMAN
Damn straight! [Struggling to access the contents of the purse] What the hell else am I supposed to do when I can’t … quite … manage to get my hands on some o’ my own!12
The PRIEST
Which is all very well and good, but it angers the Lord. Now: what else have you been up to? What about pretty boys and their purse strings? With all that playing around, ever forced thy way into thy neighbor’s junk?13
[The dialogue and action come harder and faster, some of it possibly concealed behind the aforementioned bushes.]
The HIGHWAYMAN
Good God Almighty, no!
[Sotto voce] Not yet! [Talk about tightening the old purse strings!]
The PRIEST
Pray, go on, then, proceed. To each man, his cross to bear. But God helps those who help themselves.
The HIGHWAYMAN
[During the pat-down, he hits a cross and some foodstuffs.] Jesus H. Christ! I’m helping myself as we speak!
[Sotto voce] To each my own. And I’m just gettin’ started.
The PRIEST
Consider your position, my son. You must get it all out.
The HIGHWAYMAN
[Sotto voce] I’m doin’ the best I can here but the damn hole’s too small.
The PRIEST
[For what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and suffer the loss of his soul?] Leave no stone unturned, my son. It’s for your own good.
The HIGHWAYMAN
My own good is right. In the name of Saint Julian, that’s what I’m hopin’ for: a profit! [And some goddamn hospitality.]
The PRIEST
Lord have mercy! Have you no faith in God? There’s no need to rush. Easy does it.
The HIGHWAYMAN
[Sotto voce] No, no. I’m easin’ on in right now.
[The PRIEST
{With a shiver} What the fudge! Haste makes waste!
The HIGHWAYMAN
{Sotto voce} And go fudge yourself! It won’t go to waste, believe me.]
Don’t tell me I’m getting on your nerves.
The PRIEST
Not at all, my good man, take your time. I take great pleasure in freeing you from the wages of sin.
The HIGHWAYMAN
[He finally gets a good grip on the Priest’s bulging purse.] And—good God Almighty!—them’s some wages. There’s gotta be about six hundred in there.14
The PRIEST
Your confession, my son. Before we adjourn, you must finish up. Come clean.15
The HIGHWAYMAN
“Clean’s” the word for it, pal, and—good God Almighty!—I’ll be cleanin’ you out if it’s the last thing I do! [At long last, he is in the purse.]
The PRIEST
Good heavens! So much sin to account for. Be sure to get every last one. [It’s a cold, hard world out there.]
The HIGHWAYMAN
And cold hard cash in here! I’m gettin’ it all, count on it—big ones, little ones—I’m makin’ out like a bandit!
The PRIEST
May God have mercy on your soul. But what about … Is there anything else you wish to make known?
The HIGHWAYMAN
There was this one day a while back, somebody had left out this great big greasy cock. Well, a capon, actually. And all the fixin’s. All night long. So, I just made off with it.16
The PRIEST
[Off-balance, he falls over into a puddle.] Lord have mercy, I … you … [in the Big Muddy©?] … not the c-c-c- …17
The HIGHWAYMAN
[The cock? The big fool said to push on.©] Jesus H. Christ! Wolfed that sucker right down—the jelly too—for which, I confess, I’m truly sorry.
The PRIEST
Uh-huh. But, say, what about Sunday service? When they ring the bells, you go to hear Mass, don’t you?
The HIGHWAYMAN
I hear just fine from wherever I am.
The PRIEST
You bear a heavy load, sir, but—good God Almighty!—what’s the hold-up? Go on.18
The HIGHWAYMAN
Will do.
[Sotto voce] I’m loaded, all right, thanks to you, praise the Lord!
The PRIEST
Pray, go on, my son, what next? This is no time for banal tripe.
The HIGHWAYMAN
Speaking of which … Ate me some tripe the other day off some tripe-lady when she was sellin’ in the neighborhood. [I stuck in my thumb, and pulled out some …] Come around fast, she did; so, I stuck my knife all the way in and, then, sucked me up her whole pot. Good till the very last drop. Juice was drippin’ out all over the place. Shut her filthy trap but good. And then I stiffed her. Beat a hasty retreat before she could stick me back.
[He makes the cut and snags his prize, possibly distracting the Priest with a corresponding “purse”-grab.]
[And boy, oh boy, did I ever hit the jackpot!]19
The PRIEST
Good heavens! Now we’re really getting somewhere! Are we all fessed up?
The HIGHWAYMAN
In the name of—Jesus H. Christ!—all fessed up and ready to blow! Can’t think of a single thing left deep within the deep, dark recesses of … my conscience. Nope. All cleaned out.
[Sotto voce] And so are you. Unless there’s still somethin’ wedged in there.
The PRIEST
It’s all in your best interest, I assure you. And, if I’ve played my part in good faith, so much the better for you.
The HIGHWAYMAN
[Sotto voce] [Way better.] My best interest is the whole “principal.” So, finish up already and get on with it. Let’s get this show on the road.
The PRIEST
But, to be forgiven for your sins, you must express contrition, my son, and show remorse. And I must assign penance.
The HIGHWAYMAN
You just give it some thought, there, Father, because, if you load me up with one more thing, I don’t know how I can possibly bear it.
[The Priest motions for him to kneel. He then locates a makeshift Eucharist from his picnic and attempts to stick the “wafer” into the “penitent’s” mouth. Meanwhile, the Highwayman locates other comestibles.]
The PRIEST
[In saecula saeculor … saeculor … ummm.…] In the name of that great chicken pie in the sky, I ab … ab … absolvimus te! Absolution-ly! Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!© In Spiritu sancti amen.20
The HIGHWAYMAN
How wise you are, my friend, and endowed, sir, with a great big … [to the audience] crock!21
[While the Highwayman eats, the Priest beats a hasty retreat.]
[Scene 4]
[Alone again on the road]
The PRIEST
Jesus H. Christ Almighty! And I got off okay too, by the hair of my skinny-skin-skin! Barely made it out of there before he sliced my ass in two! But—Jesus flippin’ Christ on a cracker! I best pick up where I left off and stop by the parish to confess the flock … before I get flocked again!
So, folks: maybe we didn’t exactly take the high road here but, heads up ’cause we’re comin’ your way! Exit … that-a-way.
[The Highwayman returns and the two actors head into the crowd to collect donations.]
[The HIGHWAYMAN
Moe, moe, moe! How did you like it? How did you like it?©]
The PRIEST
Moe, moe, moe! How did you like it? How did you like the show?© We hope you enjoyed it—the good Lord pardons you if you did—but, for now:
[Doubled version begins here.]
The time has come to say adieu.
Forgive us, Lord, unholy roads.
You liked the show? Then pardon you!22
[Doubled version ends here, possibly giving way to closing music.]23
The END