Brecht Collected Plays: 1: Baal; Drums in the Night; In the Jungle of Cities; Life of Edward II of England; & 5 One Act Plays: "Baal", "Drums in the Night", "In the Jungle of Ci (World Classics) by Bertolt Brecht Page A

You’ll burst.
    BAAL : I’d like to hear the bang.
    EKART : Do you ever look into water when it’s black and deep and got no fish in it? Don’t ever fall in. Watch out for yourself. You’re so very heavy, Baal.
    BAAL : I’ll watch out for somebody else. I’ve written a song. Do you want to hear it?
    EKART : Read it, then I’ll know you.
    BAAL : It’s called Death in the Forest.
    And a man died deep in the primaeval woods
    While the storm blew in torrents around him -
    Died like an animal scrabbling for roots
    Stared up through the trees, as the wind skimmed the woods
    And the roar of the thunderclap drowned him.
    Several of them stood to watch him go
    And they strove to make his passage smoother
    Telling him: We’ll take you home now, brother.
    But he forced them from him with a blow
    Spat, and cried: and where’s my home, d’you know?
    That was home, and he had got no other.
    Is your toothless mouth choking with pus?
    How’s the rest of you: can you still tell?
    Must you die so slowly and with so much fuss?
    We’ve just had your horse chopped into steaks for us.
    Hurry up! They’re waiting down in hell.
    Then the forest roared above their head
    And they watched him clasp a tree and stagger
    And they heard his screams and what he said.
    Each man felt an overwhelming dread
    Clenched his fist or, trembling, drew his dagger:
    So like them, and yet so nearly dead!
    You’re foul, useless, mad, you mangy bear!
    You’re a sore, a chancre, filthy creature!
    Selfish beast, you’re breathing up our air!
    So they said. And he, the cancer there:
    Let me live! Your sun was never sweeter!
    - Ride off in the light without a care!
    That’s what none of them could understand:
    How the horror numbed and made them shiver.
    There’s the earth holding his naked hand.
    In the breeze from sea to sea lies land:
    Here I lie in solitude for ever.
    Yes, mere life, with its abundant weight
    Pinned him so that even half-decayed
    He pressed his dead body ever deeper.
    At dawn he fell dead in the grassy shade.
    Numb with shock, they buried him, and cold with hate
    Covered him with undergrowth and creeper.
    Then they rode in silence from that place
    Turning round to see the tree again
    Under which his body once had lain
    Who felt dying was too sharp a pain:
    The tree stood in the sun ablaze.
    Each made the mark of the cross on his face
    And rode off swiftly over the plain.
    EKART : Well, well! I suppose it’s come to that now.
    BAAL : When I can’t sleep at night I look up at the stars. It’s just as good.
    EKART: IS it?
    BAAL
suspiciously
: But I don’t do it often. It makes you weak.
    EKART
after a pause
: You’ve made up a lot of poetry recently. You haven’t had a woman for a long time, have you?
    BAAL : Why?
    EKART : I was thinking. Say no.
    Baal gets up, stretches, looks at the top of the maple and laughs
.
Inn
    Evening. Ekart. The waitress. Watzmann. Johannes, in a shabby coat with a turned-up collar, hopelessly gone to seed. The waitress has the features of Sophie
.
    EKART : It’s been eight years.
    They drink. Wind
.
    JOHANNES : They say life only begins at twenty-five. That’s when they get broader and have children.
    Silence
.
    WATZMANN : His mother died yesterday. So he runs around trying to borrow money for the funeral. When he gets it he comes here. Then we can pay for the drinks. The landlord’s a good man. He gives credit on a corpse which was a mother.
Drinks
.
    JOHANNES : Baal! There’s no wind left in his sails.
    WATZMANN
to Ekart
: You must have to put up with a lot from him?
    EKART : One can’t spit in his face. The man’s done for.
    WATZMANN
to Johannes
: Does it distress you? Do you think about it?
    JOHANNES : It’s a waste of a man, I tell you.
Drinks.
Silence
.
    WATZMANN : He’s getting more and more disgusting.
    EKART : Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear it. I love him. I don’t resent him, because I love him. He’s a child.
    WATZMANN : He only does what he has to. Because he’s so