This play was performed at the Whiskey Café in Chicago, on the corner of Archer and Kedzie (now a Walgreens drugstore), and at the University of Illinois at Chicago, in the GBU lounge, circa 1989. The play was designed for a bar room crowd, that is, the drinking class. The length of the play, forty five minutes, was designed for a shot and beer mentality, a short attention span. So it can still fly today. But who would believe that that a bunch of booze hounds would like Robert Browning.
THE GOD OF CALIBAN A play by Frank Pulaski Based upon Robert Browning's poem "Caliban Upon Setebos"
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THE GOD OF CALIBAN SCENE ONE (Caliban lies hidden beneath a shroud. Prospero sits stage right. Miranda stage left. Actors make no motion.) MIRANDA (Rising): Caliban! Caliban! Ohhh, Caliban. Why are you always hiding? (She looks about, sits, and is then frozen out of the action.) PROSPERO (Rising): Caliban! Motherfucker! Where are you, motherfucker! Just wait, asshole. (He sits and freezes out of action.) CALIBAN (Rising from shroud, drinking wine): Ahhhh. Setebos, Setebos, Setebos! I think you dwell in the cold of the moon. I think you made the sun to match. Oh, but not the stars, no--the stars came otherwise. The clouds, winds, meteors, things like that, yes. (Drinks.) Ahhhh. You made this island, trees and the fowl here, beasts and creeping things--yon otter, sleek-wet, black, lithe as a leech. Things that float and feed, worms, seabirds--oh such wondrous variety! Yes, and you made this my prison, the waters that meet here full circle. The great magician Prospero is your warden--my keeper. Ahhhh, but Setebos can be kind, for he made Miranda--yes, the lovely Miranda. But a twisted sense of humor, indeed, to make that man her father! This, then, is the stage that the God Setebos has chosen to fuck me over on! So drink up and we'll have a good laugh! (Drinks, hides under shroud.) MIRANDA (Rising, goes to Prospero): Father, I'm worried about Caliban. He's getting weird. PROSPERO (Standing): What? Has he made advances? MIRANDA No! It's what he says, his actions. . . . 1-2 PROSPERO There've been strange noises coming from the woods lately. I'll bet he's responsible somehow. MIRANDA (Aside): More than strange--mystical . . . PROSPERO So, tell me--in what way has he been acting weird? MIRANDA Well, he made this flute . . . PROSPERO Caliban, musical? Huh! MIRANDA He had it in his hand, and he was staring at it--talking to it--and then he turns to me and says: "Miranda, if you made this flute and it played beautiful music, would you like it if the flute took credit for the music it played?" PROSPERO Something is rotten here. MIRANDA And then he takes the flute, sets it upon a rock, and says: "I'll spare you today." He walks away, stops suddenly, turns and charges the flute, and then smashes it to bits with his foot. And he says: "As above, like below, sucker! And never, never take me for granted!" And he walks away as pleased as punch. PROSPERO Hmmm . . . your books on Aristotle and Socrates, did you leave them lying around? MIRAND 1-3 Now, how could I? You tore out all the pages that had anything to say on the subject of God. I can't carry around a bunch of loose pages. PROSPERO He's a fuck-up, that's all there is to it--he's a fuck-up. MIRANDA His mind is too idle, father. All this isolation is no good for him. Maybe . . . maybe he needs a companion? PROSPERO I'll give him more work! MIRANDA I'll get supper ready. (She returns to place and drops out of action. PROSPERO (To audience): I brought Caliban to this island when he was just a baby. He was abandoned and destitute, deserted by some horrible old witch. The priests came this close to laying their grubby hands on him. They were going to raise him in a monastery--give him a religious education. But I stopped them! For once, I was gonna make sure that a human being got a fair shake in this world. What type of man would he grow up to be, I thought, if I took him and raised him in an environment free of all that religious nonsense and stupid superstition? So I brought him here to run free and live natural. Oh, but I didn't leave him alone in isolation. No, no, indeed not. I guided his life from a distance--took care that he should learn to read. Saw to it that he only read the right books. I planted good, sound humanistic values in his head. But above all, I tried my very best to set an example for him. (Prospero returns to seat and drops out of action.) (STAGE DARK)
2-1 SCENE TWO (LIGHTS UP on Caliban, wearing magician's hat. He is making preparations to cast a spell.) CALIBAN If I had a million bucks, I'd buy Miranda the moon, yes . . . (Hums, sets up bottles.) Prospero'd be my errand boy! "Prospero, you dog--pour me some wine, fetch my stick, tote that barge, lift that bale! Why such an ugly face today? Begone! Miranda and I want some privacy." (Watches the imaginary Prospero leave.) (Miranda wakes to watch Caliban. He takes the frog and bangs its head.) CALIBAN Now, let's see. We take one froggie leg and put it in the blue elixir . . . one froggie head here . . . Now some wing of bat--ha, ha, indeed! All diced up into tiny pieces ever so fine. Ta da! All we need now are the ashes of rattlesnake and we will be ready to make magic! MIRANDA Caliban! Whatever in the world are you doing? CALIBAN Quiet! Watch! And you shall see, my dear, you shall see! Now, quickly, get pencil and paper and write down the mystic persuasions! And be very careful not to screw up the equation. MIRANDA Never! I'm thorough and exact. CALIBAN Shhhhh! As one equals two and two equals three, forces of light come down unto me! (Listens.) Here, Miranda--here! MIRANDA I'm ready! I'm ready!
2-2 CALIBAN We must take forty-seven parts of squalor, and add them to one pound of shit in a paper bag. MIRANDA Brown! CALIBAN Now, as four makes five and five makes trouble, hit me again and I'll roll you some doubles. MIRANDA Should I add this to the persuasion or subtract it from the equation? CALIBAN No, just pray that forty added to fifty will not equal sixty! MIRANDA But forty and fifty equals . . . CALIBAN Quiet! I myself will separate the numerators from the constipators! Now, get ready for the last! Forces of magic, don't fail me now or I'll kick some ass! (As if hearing a voice): What's that? What's that you say? MIRANDA What's what? CALIBAN The hairs upon my balls? MIRANDA Your balls? CALIBAN 2-3 And the scratch upon her snatch? MIRANDA My scratch? CALIBAN Give me that! Give me that! MIRANDA What is it? What does it mean? What do you mean? CALIBAN It means freedom, Miranda--freedom! We must count the hairs upon my balls, for they are numbered, and subtract them from the scratch upon your snatch, then divide by two, and we will have the winning numbers for this week's lottery! MIRANDA The lottery! All this was about the lottery? Oh, Caliban, the odds against winning are so great . . . CALIBAN But the fix is in! We have magic! MIRANDA Magic? There's no such thing. Where in the world did you ever get such an idea? It's so foolish . . . CALIBAN Foolish? Foolish, indeed . . . Do you call your father a fool? I have watched him at his magic. Why, these are his very own tools. Yes, I have watched him, and everything he touches turns to gold! MIRANDA Father is a scientist, not a magician. He makes money because he's smart. CALIBAN 2-4 No! A great magician! MIRANDA No, no, you mistake science for magic, and common sense for good luck. Father is successful because he practices the art of proper proportions. (LIGHTS UP on Prospero as he proportions the coke.) PROSPERO Yes, my boy, if there's any magic in life, it's the miracle of moderation--the science of proper proportions. CALIBAN (To Miranda): That's what he says, but look! He uses the magic powder! The white light! MIRANDA That's brain nourishment, Caliban--all great thinkers use it. PROSPERO And must be taken only with the greatest moderation--the exact proportion, to be exact. (Snorts.) CALIBAN And up your nose with a rubber hose, sir! PROSPERO Ha, ha, ha! A real funny man, ha ha ha! Good thing for you that I have a down-to-earth sense of humor, ha ha ha. CALIBAN Since we are in such fine spirits, sir, would you teach me how to be a moderate? Just a tiny sniff, sir . . . (Caliban nears Prospero.)
2 PROSPERO (Taking Caliban by his wrist and neck): So naive, my boy, so naive. So we're ready for the big leagues, are we? Ha, ha, well, I suggest we teach you table manners first. Miranda! Isn't it time for our lunch? MIRANDA Yes, Father, it PROSPERO Are you hungry, my boy? MIRANDA Can Caliban eat with us? PROSPERO Why, of course, Caliban can eat with us. MIRANDA Oh, good! (Starts to prepare table.) PROSPERO (To Caliban): We are hungry, aren't we? CALIBAN Rarely a moment passes, sir, when I am not. PROSPERO And so I've always noticed, Caliban--and so I've always noticed. MIRANDA This is wonderful. After all these years, Caliban, you're finally going to eat with us! PROSPERO 2-6 Well, everything seems to be ready. Why don't you sit down here, my boy, between us? (Caliban sits, attempts to eat. Prospero stops him, smacks his hand.) Uh, uh, uh--not so fast, not so fast. The first rule is: Never make a pig of yourself. MIRANDA Here. I'll show you the way Father showed me. First we make sure that we take a proper proportion of everything. See? Now we cut our food to just the right size--like this--and we begin eating. (She begins eating, and Caliban attempts to join in.) PROSPERO Uh, uhhh, watch, my boy, watch . . . MIRANDA And then we're very careful to take only moderate sips of our wine. The whole point is to eat to be content and satisfied. PROSPERO In other words, we don't want a belly ache. MIRANDA Come on, Caliban--it's good. (Caliban looks to Prospero for approval and then begins eating. Prospero does not eat but watches as he sips his wine. Caliban indulges with a mounting relish.) PROSPERO Do you like the dove eggs? CALIBAN 2-7 Better than the turtle eggs, sir. PROSPERO How about the roast? CALIBAN I never knew food could smell so good. Last week, sir, I caught a wild dog and ate it. Not only was the meat like leather, but the smell stunk up my cave for a whole two days. PROSPERO Really. Easy now, easy . . . Calm . . . No one will snatch your food. CALIBAN Eh, sorry, sir--this good food has a strange effect. Rather than filling the belly, it excites it. MIRANDA (Pushes her plate away): That's what it's supposed to do. In the big cities, they never say "good dining," but "exciting dining"! CALIBAN If it's excitement they want, they should eat with me. The food I eat shrieks and wails, and sometimes fights back. I strangled a goose and . . . PROSPERO That is not polite dinner conversation, my boy . . . CALIBAN Sorry. (Caliban eyeballs his empty plate, and looks at the food left on the other plates.) PROSPERO What's the matter? Would you like seconds?
2-8 CALIBAN A bit more perhaps. PROSPERO Why, certainly--help yourself. (Caliban digs in.) What in the hell . . . MIRANDA Wow! What an appetite! CALIBAN Waste not, want not, sir! PROSPERO Well, why don't you eat it all, damn it! CALIBAN Thank you, sir, thank you! (He takes all.) PROSPERO (Stands, throws his napkin): He's breaking the very first rule! MIRANDA Well, that's only because we didn't teach him the second rule about taking seconds. PROSPERO Well, I'll never give the pig a second chance! MIRANDA He's been deprived! 2-9 PROSPERO Deprived, my ass! It's blatant, gluttonous zeal! MIRANDA (To Caliban): Careful! Careful! You'll choke on it! PROSPERO Oh, I hope the hell he does! MIRANDA Let's go, father, let's go! Please! Before you lose your temper! PROSPERO I never raised him like that! I never . . . I never . . . (EXIT Prospero and Miranda) CALIBAN In some cultures, a bottomless gullet and a belch or two are considered fine table manners. What's his gripe? I show good taste, and he gets pissed. It just goes to show you--if they don't like you, they just don't like you. (STAGE DARK)
3-1 SCENE THREE (Lights up on Caliban. He rises from under shroud, candle in hand.) CALIBAN So long as Setebos lives and remains strong, I am screwed. There he is, and here I am, and nowhere hope at all. I believe that only with my death shall the pain stop. The final boom will be an exploding hemorrhoid! In the meantime, Setebos makes the game interesting by giving you a little sugar with one hand, before he smacks you down with the other. Boom! The best way to escape his anger is never appear too happy. This is why I drink and dance only at night, in dark holes like this. Setebos can't see me here. Ahhh, but out in the light of day, I moan and groan my ass off. I make 'im think my balls ache. This way everyone expects a lot less from you. Anyway, Setebos and some other people I know have too much free time on their hands. An idle mind is not a devil's workshop--an idle mind is a god run amuck! (Drinks.) GOD'S VOICE Oh, Caliban, Caliban--where are you, Caliban? The Lord your God, Setebos, calls unto you. CALIBAN (In fearful whisper): Oh, in a moment, the sky will be rent asunder by thunder, I just know it! GOD'S VOICE Come out, come out, wherever you are! It's time to play . . . CALIBAN (To audience): Games most dangerous, I assure you! GOD'S VOICE Ready or not, here I come. (MUSIC: GOD'S THEME. As music mounts, Caliban's terror mounts. Then, ENTER God. He goes to Caliban.)
3-2 GOD Ahhh huh! Gotcha! There we are. Ya know the trouble with you, Caliban? Ya got no imagination. All you can think of playing is the same old hide and seek. I'm bored with that shit. Got any ideas? CALIBAN I dread to think. I, I, uh . . . well . . . GOD You still playing with that fire I gave you? Tell you what--I'll give you a thousand bucks for that fire . . . CALIBAN It hardly seems worth it, sir. Why, you can ha-- GOD Oh, a hard bargainer, huh? OK, tough guy, tell ya what--the thousand bucks and I'll throw in this quality Havana cigar! CALIBAN It's a deal, sir. (They trade.) GOD Ya know, Caliban, you're pretty fuckin' stupid. Now ya got that cigar and no way to light it. Why don't you think? Is that the way I raised you? Ya know it's my job to test ya! CALIBAN I know--it's for my own good, sir. GOD Yeah, that's right--for your own good. But I'll tell ya what. Since I'm a benevolent kind of guy, I'll let you use my fire to light your cigar. CALIBAN Thank you, sir--you're so kind. (Gets ready to light cigar.) 3-3 GOD Hey! Whaddaya think you're doin'? Not that--that! (God lights the thousand-dollar bill.) CALIBAN The bill, sir--you're lighting the bill . . . GOD Hey, don't bitch to me. Ya wanna smoke, ya gotta pay the price. CALIBAN Indeed, sir, indeed, (He smokes.) GOD Well, how's it taste? CALIBAN A little too expensive for my taste, sir. GOD (Laughing a sinister laugh): It's guys like you that fuck things up for everyone. You trade the most precious gift I ever gave to man--fire--for a cheap cigar. Now you've got the gaul to stand there and joke about. Oh, you're a real comedian. That's what you are--a real comic! CALIBAN (Showing terror): Yes! A buffoon, sir! An unworthy clown! An ingrate, sir! An . . . GOD Clown? CALIBAN Yes, clown, sir--clown! A very sad one!
3-4 GOD Hey, no need for sadness, 'cause we're gonna play circus! CALIBAN Circus, sir? . . . GOD Yeah--what the hell ya think clowns do? And I'll be the ringmaster! Let's get to it! Let the good times roll! CALIBAN What should I do, sir? What? GOD I don't know, god damn it . . . something! I can't think of everything, you dog, you! CALIBAN A dog, sir! That's it! I am a dog! GOD Great! A barking dog! Bark, dog, bark! (Caliban barks.) Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Here--up, boy, up, up here on the box! That's a good dog! Hey, everyone! Look at me--I'm a dog tamer! (Caliban barks.) Now, howl, dog, howl! Howl to high heaven! (Caliban howls.) Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Through the hoop now, boy--through the hoop! Be quick! (Caliban leaps through the hoop.) Once more! That's it! Again! Faster now--faster! Again, I say! And faster, faster! 3-5 (Caliban falls.) CALIBAN Ow! My leg, sir, my leg! I think I broke my leg! Ow, ow, ow! (God roars with laughter. Caliban, now having had enough, kneels to pray. He does not see God as He EXITS.) Setebos, Setebos, Setebos, have mercy on me, Setebos! I am very sorry if I have offended thee. You are all-good and deserving of my love . . . (ENTER Prospero. Amazed, he watches Caliban.) CALIBAN Lord God Setebos, Lord God Setebos, have mercy on me, forgive me. Just spare me, spare me, and I swear I'll do anything, anything. Why, I won't drink for a month. I won't ever drink again, if that's what you want. Just spare me, God, spare me! PROSPERO Caliban! Caliban! Stop it, man, stop it! Have you no shame? CALIBAN Sir! It's you. Thank God you're here, thank God you're here! PROSPERO Caliban, don't you know that praying with yourself like that can make you retarded? CALIBAN Save me, sir, save me! God favors you--he likes you! Tell him to leave me alone--tell him to leave me alone. PROSPERO Quiet, you dog! So my suspicions weren't idle fears. Praying, praying. Who put these ideas in your head? Tell me, damn it! CALIBAN 3-6 What ideas, sir? What do you mean? PROSPERO I certainly didn't raise you like this. I certainly didn't put these ideas into your head! Who taught you this nonsense? CALIBAN What, sir? Teach me what? What nonsense? PROSPERO Who put the word "God" on your lips? (STAGE DARK.)
4-1 SCENE FOUR (LIGHTS UP. Caliban is giving Miranda flute lessons.) CALIBAN Hold the shaft like this. MIRANDA It feels funny. CALIBAN That's because it's covered with skin. It's a skin flute, Miranda. The music then is more sensitive. MIRANDA How creative. I never saw one like that. CALIBAN Believe me, the world is full of them. Now be careful with the head. It's delicate. MIRANDA All right. CALIBAN Now blow, Miranda--blow. Blow into it, darling. MIRANDA (Blows, but no music.) The tip is too big. It's making me out of breath. CALIBAN Tongue it. Use your tongue, and it will pour forth its essence. MIRANDA Like this? (She tongues flute.) 4-2 CALIBAN That's the way--yes, yes, just like that. (She blows, and this time there is music.) Mmmmm . . . yes . . . ahhh . . . that's so good. Now, stop, stop! Tell me--who made the music, you or the flute? MIRANDA Why, the flute made the music. CALIBAN No, child, you made the music. MIRANDA No, the flute made the music. CALIBAN But I made the flute, and I made it because I wanted to imitate the voice of a bird. My mouth alone can't do this. MIRANDA Exactly! And the flute can. CALIBAN Ahhh, but the flute does nothing, child. It's the reason of my finger tips, the manipulation of my tongue, mouth, breath--the very idea of the song in my head. These things made the music--never, never the flute! MIRANDA You dog, you. So then this is only an extension of your will? And you're the creator. CALIBAN Yes! MIRANDA 4-3 What an idea--and Father always says you're stupid. CALIBAN Hah, and so you see, as we create objects to do the things that we ourselves cannot do, so God created us to do the things that he himself cannot do! MIRANDA Congratulations--you've just created the first weak God! CALIBAN And a very jealous God. MIRANDA How? Why? CALIBAN Suppose, like us, the flute could talk. MIRANDA But it can, Caliban, it can. It speaks the music of your heart. (She touches his heart.) CALIBAN But suppose the flute one day said: "I am the smart thing. I make the music that my maker cannot." MIRANDA (Standing): I'd smash it to pieces for lying! (Stamps her foot.) CALIBAN Thank you. So now you see--as above, like below. MIRANDA And all these ideas came to you from observing nature. You never read any of this? 4-4 CALIBAN Your father's books are boring. But I give him credit for one thing: He does one hell of a good God act MIRANDA Aha! Here's a point for you! If what you say is true, and there is a God, then why doesn't he punish my father? Like the talking flute, Father takes credit for everything. And he's never been smashed--he only prospers. CALIBAN Ahhhh! A good question, a good question, indeed. Why Prospero and not me? That's the only thing I haven't figured out yet, the only thing. The puzzle has even driven me to poetry. MIRANDA Poetry! You write poems? CALIBAN You like poems? MIRANDA I love them. CALIBAN Big ones or little ones? MIRANDA I love them all! (Caliban hands her a poem.) MIRANDA (reads) "Meeting at Night "The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low; And the startled little waves that leap 4-5 In fiery ringlets from their sleep. As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its speed i' the slushy sand. "Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; Three fields to cross till a farm appears; A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch And blue spurt of a lighted match, And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears, Than the two hearts beating each to each!"* [*Robert Browning] (To Caliban): Oh, Caliban, you're so much like my father! CALIBAN Me! Like Prospero, never! MIRANDA No, he's a poet just like you. He has visions--a humanistic dream of man helping man. He says that humanness is a flower not yet fully bloomed. CALIBAN A flower rather to snap at, catch and crunch! MIRANDA But to think that this poem, and the music, and your wild notions, all came about because of your ideas about God. Your God inspired your art! CALIBAN God indeed. The thought of a hot box lunch inspired my art. MIRANDA What? A hot box lunch? There's no place you can get one around here. CALIBAN That's not true, my darling, because there's one right between your legs! (Moves toward her.) MIRANDA 4-6 (Looking around): Shhhhhh! Someone might be watching . . . CALIBAN I showed you mine--now you show me yours. MIRANDA No, I won't! You only showed me your poem. CALIBAN (With back to audience): And what I was really showing you was my penis! (He exposes himself to her.) MIRANDA Oh, Caliban! It looks just like your skin flute! CALIBAN I love you! MIRANDA And I love you, too! (Caliban and Miranda embrace. ENTER Prospero. He looks at the embracing couple, and then picks the flute up off the floor.) PROSPERO (To audience): Fucking satyr! You give them an inch and they take a yard! Caliban! Motherfucker! Caliban! MIRANDA (Pushing away): Father! PROSPERO Home! (EXIT Miranda.) 4-7 CALIBAN (Kneeling): Oh, Lord, let us pray. Setebos, Setebos, Setebos! PROSPERO (Walks behind the praying Caliban): Prayers are useless! Your God won't help you because he's not there! (He places flute around Caliban's neck.) This is going to hurt me more than it does you . . . CALIBAN Would that it could, sir, would that it could... (STAGE DARK)
5-1 SCENE FIVE (Prospero sits center stage, peering into space. Caliban right, Miranda left.) MIRANDA Is there something wrong, Father? PROSPERO I had a vision, child--a beautiful, beautiful vision. I saw a new world, a new culture. And the people in this world based their society upon sound humanistic values. But the most important thing was that this culture was open to everyone. There was no discrimination. MIRANDA Father, you're upset . . . PROSPERO And every night after supper we'd sit around the fire with our shoes off, holding hands, and empathizing with one another--just feeling and accepting each other's humanness. MIRANDA It sounds so beautiful. CALIBAN Walk a mile in my shoes, sir, and you'll be damned glad to sit around with your shoes off. PROSPERO (Rises angrily): There is one great sadness in this vision! Although this culture is open to everyone, it is attainable to only a very few! MIRANDA (Confused): That sounds like high Catholic theology.
5-2 PROSPERO What? MIRANDA I only mean that nature has twisted his mind. You must stop picking on him! CALIBAN You mean your father has twisted my neck! PROSPERO Silence! Picking on him? What should I do, just let him turn savage? MIRANDA No! You should send him to school! PROSPERO What? MIRANDA Yes, to school! Believe it or not, in his own way, he's very articulate. PROSPERO Ha! I certainly don't believe it! MIRANDA All he needs is some polishing. PROSPERO I just have to accept the fact that my experiment failed. MIRANDA No--you're giving up on him too soon. You haven't failed . . . 5-3 PROSPERO Of course I haven't. He has! MIRANDA Father, you've already planted the seeds, but they've yet to be nurtured. This isolation has been all but too much for him. He needs to be around other people. Let a college education finish the work that you started. PROSPERO He's flawed . . . he's flawed . . . MIRANDA And that's why he has to go. A good liberal arts education, a grounding in science especially, will correct his flaws. PROSPERO Hey, wait a minute . . . MIRANDA What? PROSPERO And the crooked shall be made straight. Daughter, get me the phone! MIRANDA What are you going to do? (Miranda hands her father the phone.) PROSPERO I'm calling up my old friend, Professor Hammer, over at Harvard University. Why, if old Hammer can't pound any sense into him, no one can! MIRANDA Caliban! You're going to school! 5-4 PROSPERO (Into phone): Hello! I'd like to speak to Professor Jack Hammer, please. (Beat.) Hello, Jack! This is your old pal Prospero over on Tempest Island. (Pause.) Fine, fine . . . Hey, listen . . . (Prospero walks upstage, continuing his conversation in private.) MIRANDA (To Caliban): I'm going to miss you. CALIBAN And I you. MIRANDA You'll be with others. You'll make friends. CALIBAN Will I have to work? MIRANDA You'll never have to work! CALIBAN Then I will like school very much. MIRANDA Will you think of me? Will you write? CALIBAN My only happiness is the thought of you. Here . . . take this. (He hands her flute.) MIRANDA Oh, Caliban! 5-5 CALIBAN It will have to do until I return. PROSPERO (returning to center stage) Well, it's all been taken care of! I pulled a few strings, and you're as good as in! CALIBAN I won't let you down, sir. PROSPERO I hope not, my boy, I hope not. MIRANDA Do be careful. PROSPERO Well, I dislike long goodbyes. Miranda, get his bag. MIRANDA (Returning with bag): Oh, it just won't be the same without you! (Kisses Caliban.) PROSPERO Here, here, now--none of that. Hurry, my boy, hurry--or you'll miss the Harvard ferry. CALIBAN (Eyes flash, jumps forward.) Where! Don't worry, sir. I rarely miss a trick! Well, until graduation day--farewell! (EXIT Caliban.) PROSPERO Don't worry. He'll return to us soon enough.
5-6 (Miranda begins to play flute. Stage darkens, and She sings the Banana Boat song. PROSPERO (To Miranda): Well, you won't have to sing your song anymore, my child. Caliban is coming home today! MIRANDA Wonderful! PROSPERO He should be here any minute now. (ENTER Caliban with graduation gown, cap, and diploma.) MIRANDA Caliban! CALIBAN Alpha beta zeta meta, mea culpa! (Bows.) PROSPERO So I see you've studied Greek? CALIBAN It's all Greek to me, sir! MIRANDA Doesn't he look wonderful, Father? PROSPERO Looks are one thing, child, but it's what's in a man's mind that counts. Your diploma, Caliban! 5-7 CALIBAN Sir! (Hands it over.) PROSPERO Hmmmm. Everything appears to be in order . . . (Like a drill sergeant, he walks around Prospero, inspecting him.) Let me see. I'm a little confused here. I can't quite remember how the world began. How's it go? In the beginning . . . (Miranda crosses her fingers.) CALIBAN In the beginning, sir, there was a Big Bang! And thus was the earth formed from an aggregation of planetesimals. Earth's age is four-point-five to four-point-seven billion years old. PROSPERO (Checks watch.) Why, you got it down to almost the exact month! CALIBAN I could be off a day or two, sir. PROSPERO (Excited): And what is the Word? The Word, man! CALIBAN According to the Gospel of Darwin, sir, only the strong survive. The Word then is Natural Selection--Evolution. The idea can be compared to taking a slow boat to Philadelphia. PROSPERO Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle! Miranda! This is unbelievable! Why, the light of science shines in his eyes! MIRANDA I always knew he had potential! 5-8 CALIBAN Ahhhh--the wonders of science, sir. Radio, television, cars, hamburgers, and computers to count the hamburgers. Over 99 billion sold. It is science, sir, science, that brings great things to life! PROSPERO (Exulting): Did you hear him, Miranda, did you hear? It is science that created the world--science, not God! CALIBAN Indeed, sir, and it is more than likely that it is the God science that will also destroy it. PROSPERO Ahhh, so you also studied political science? CALIBAN Yes, and it seems, sir, that the world is a hopeless place. If man has a future, it lies out there in the stars. PROSPERO Thus you also understand astronomy. CALIBAN That I do, sir. Astronomy led me to the answer I was looking for. PROSPERO Answer? Please, you must first tell me the question. CALIBAN The question, sir, is why you were selected and not I. PROSPERO In Darwinistic terms, of course? 5-9 CALIBAN Whatever, sir--whatever. It is all, I believe, relative. PROSPERO True, true. Continue . . . CALIBAN The key to the answer, then, was in learning astronomical calculations. You see . . . PROSPERO Skip the small talk. Tell me--why am I better than you? CALIBAN Well, the answer is quite simple. You have very powerful planetary placements. (Pulls out charts.) What an astrologer would call lucky stars. PROSPERO I don't follow you. What are those? CALIBAN Our charts, sir--our charts. You see, astronomy led me to the study of astrology. PROSPERO What? Why, you're joking! CALIBAN Not when the joke is on me. According to your planetary placements, you are predestined to success. PROSPERO I don't believe it!
5-10 CALIBAN Oh, it's all right here! Sun conjunct Jupiter on your ascendant. That's pure gravy train, sir--pure gravy train. PROSPERO You . . . you . . . ! CALIBAN Me--too many difficult aspects, sir. I'm afraid, as they say, one never gets rich digging a ditch. MIRANDA What does my chart say? PROSPERO Stop! Stop it! Enough! You still haven't answered my question. You show me some charts and say that I'm lucky. That still doesn't answer the question: Why am I the lucky one and not you? CALIBAN Because God is very arbitrary, sir--very whimsical. Above all, he does not like to be second-guessed. Thus, to avoid this pitfall, some are predestined to salvation, and others to damnation. For if it were otherwise, we could act our way into heaven by doing good deeds. Salvation, then, would depend on self interest--sort of like saving up these good deeds in the bank. And that, sir, would be taking foreknowledge away from God and giving it to man. PROSPERO I don't believe it. I take a superstitious primitive, send him to Harvard, and he comes back a polished theologian. MIRANDA He can't help thinking like that. He's really a poet. 5-11 PROSPERO (To audience): How? How is it possible? That in this day and age, the notion of God still persists? Oh, I can understand some ignorant fuck believing . . . but this man's been educated! The laws of science and his upbringing all mean nothing. (Grabs Caliban.) How is it possible, damn it! How? MIRANDA Stop it! You'll hurt him! (She separates them.) PROSPERO Well, I've had it! I'm washing my hands of you! CALIBAN Sir! Wait! Before you do that--there's one thing I'd like you to know. I discovered something at school, and I want to thank you for it. PROSPERO Bah! More nonsense! MIRANDA No, Father! Tell us, Caliban--tell me--what did you discover? CALIBAN Sir--(extends arms to Prospero)--I discovered my humanness. PROSPERO (Angry): What? CALIBAN My humanness. PROSPERO Return to the forest and live with your Setebos, then. Miranda, from now on we'll start living with our own kind, and we'll pretend that people like him just don't exist. MIRANDA 5-12 But we share the world with them. PROSPERO Not anymore. Come on--let's get outta here. We're going to the North Side! MIRANDA But what about Caliban! PROSPERO THERE WILL BE NO EMPATHY FOR CALIBAN! (EXIT Prospero and Miranda. Lights dim.) CALIBAN I believe that with the life, the pain shall stop, and I conceive that all things will continue this way. The North Side indeed. Men who don't believe in God shall always be at odds with those wo do. It's really not a matter of choice, you know. The freedom "not" to believe would be such a wonderful thing. Few are called towards the grace of God. Fewer yet answer. In fact, the odds against winning grace are far greater than the odds against winning the lottery. It's all really hopeless. Even getting into hell is difficult. It may be compared to winning the Pick Five. For you see, my unknowing friends, you of the bleak multitude--God manifests his mercy through fucking you over. It's a sweet joke. In other words, you will all die so that maybe one of you can rise up upon the astral planes. Believe me, believe me, in the name of God believe me--I wish I were an atheist! Then I could take up computer programming or something, and not burden myself with such thoughts. (Pause. Beat.) You laugh, but look! There's a darkness gathering, a shroud unfolding, like a curtain coming down upon this entire theater. (INSERT Latin phrase containing Morte.) It was fool's play, all this prattling, and it was doubly foolish for you to listen. For as sure as the wind shoulders the pillared dust, death's house is on the move, and fast-invading fires begin. There goes God's stool pigeon now, to tell him all. And in a moment there shall be no more kissing or hissing, nor crying nor lying. No more fun. No more numbers. No more me and no more you. For with the life the pain stops, and you will rest in the blue, empty embrace of Neptune. Lo! "LIE THOU FLAT AND LOVEST THOU SETEBOS!" (STAGE DARK.) FIN |