Master Olof : a Drama in Five Acts by Strindberg, August, 1849-1912

Sexton (frightened). Will you please tell me whether you are a man or a ghost?

Windrank. Man most of the time, but just now I'm a beast.

Sexton. What kind of a man, if I may ask?

Windrank. A shipman--which is nor reason why you should blow all the wind out of me.

Sexton. But that's my business, you know--I blow the bellows of the big organ.

Windrank. So it was the organ-blower who honored me--

Sexton. The sexton, to put it right; but I also keep an old-clothes shop in the church wall.

Windrank. So you're organ-blower, sexton, and shopkeeper--

Sexton. In one person--without confusion or transformation--

Windrank. That's a most respectable trinity.

Sexton. Such things should not be made fun of!

Windrank. Oh, my, my! I'm drowning! Help!

Sexton. Lord, what is it?

Windrank. There's a whole river coming--Ugh!

Sexton. Catherine dear! Where are you, my angel? (He runs to look for her.) Jesu, but you must have scared my wife out of her wits. She has run away from the keg--and taken the tap along! Get up-- up with you, and let us leave this godless hole!

Windrank. No, my dear fellow, I'm in my element now, so I think I'll stay.

Sexton. Goodness, the clock is striking twelve, and the ghosts will be coming!

Windrank (jumping to his feet). That's a different story! (The Sexton guides Windrank toward the door.) Listen, sexton--I'm beginning to have strong doubts about the trinity.

Sexton. Well, I declare!

Windrank. It's your trinity I'm thinking of.

Sexton. What do you mean, master skipper?

Windrank. I think there must be four of you, after all.

Sexton. Four--of whom?

Windrank. How about the tapster? Shouldn't he be counted, too?

Sexton. Hush, man! That's only nights.

(Both stumble over the broken image of St. Nicolaus and fall down.)

Windrank. Mercy! Ghosts! Jesu Maria, help!

Sexton (rising and picking up the image). Well, if that isn't enough to make your hair stand on end! Here's St. Nicolaus broken all to pieces and swimming in the beer. It has come to a fine pass when divine things are defiled like that--I don't think the world will last much longer--when such things can be done in the dry tree--

Windrank (having recovered). In the wet one, you mean.

Sexton. Keep still, blasphemer! St. Nicolaus is my patron saint. I was born on his day.

Windrank. That's probably why both of you like beer.

Sexton. Yes, it's in the fashion now to be heretical!

Windrank. It's in the air, I think, for otherwise I'm a most God-fearing man. But never mind, I'll have St. Nicolaus glued together for you.

Sexton (calling into the church). Catherine!

Windrank. Hush, hush, man! You'll make the ghosts appear!

Sexton. A plague on your tongue! [Exeunt.]

SCENE 3

(The Sacristy of the Church of St. Nicolaus. There is a door leading to the church, and another, smaller one, leading to the pulpit. The walls are hung with chasubles and surplices. Priedieus and a few small chests are standing about. The sunlight is pouring in through a window. The church bells are heard ringing. Through the wall at the left can be heard a constant murmuring. The Sexton and his Wife enter, stop near the door, and pray silently.)

Sexton. That's enough! Now, Catherine dear, you'd better hurry up and do some dusting.