This is a story no less sacred than pleasing, in which a wrongdoer among mortals (provided he shall have a reason for salvation) shall be able to see, as if in a mirror, how through Christ, after true repentance for his sins, he may come to a blessed and very joyful death.
George Macropedius sends greetings to the most unassuming and learned gentleman, Godfrey of the Mountain of Endhovia, the most worthy Dean.
Most cultured Sir, since for a long time I have heard that my plays please you (D. and brother Arnold, our mutual friend, keep telling me this), I have decided to dedicate to you a serious work of my nightly studies. To this action I have been driven on equally not only by the friendly intimacy of your worthy parents and their kindnesses heaped on us, but also by the virtuous and honest conversation of you and your brothers (since you have carried on the fight in things literary close to our camp). Accept therefore this our play, respectable in its piety, which was acted last summer by our students and greatly applauded by the spectators, and now at last, at the urging of friends, has been published. If you should approve of it (I hope this will happen), please communicate your approval of it to the pure of heart and so immediately liberate it from the fangs of the censorious (provided that can be done without controversy). But if you disapprove it "as a story worth only a bean" or judge this play unworthy of your name, censure me in such a way that you recognize that my heart is no less friendly to you, although shown in such a worthless little gift. Farewell, most eminent Sir, and judge that I have very great affection for you.
From Utrecht on the thirty-first of March, in the year of our Lord, 1539.
Do not wonder, reader, at the number of actors, because we were concerned about the usefulness of the play to our school's audience rather than to the art of comedy. Since the work has now been published, what profited a few may now profit many.
When he is preparing for himself and his friends a feast of sumptuous dishes, Hecastus is struck down with pleurisy and suddenly, with his history of very grave sins, he is summoned before the supreme judge. Since he finds in his time of anxiety neither friends nor relatives nor faithful children to be his companions on the journey, he is in despair. At last, relying on Virtue and Faith, after the priest's counsellings for salvation and after repentance, he is restored to life and to grace. Then, in a sanctified death, he is moved with spiritual joy and gives up his family and his virtuous friends.
To all of you present in our theatre, both men and women, I cheerfully offer a new sacred play, in which there is nothing of shameful crime or wantonness. But you shall see how any person, whoever he is, in the same way as Hecastus here (who shall be shown to you candidly), after boasting, debauchery and other pleasures, may suddenly be deserted by everyone and carried off to a frightful death. You will see modest actions and comic acts seriously shown. Not here the seducer of virgins nor the pimp nor the shameless harlot nor anything which would offend the eyes of the devout, provided the spectator present is pure in heart. Stand therefore without hubbub and boisterous shouts and see our Hecastus moving forward from the beginning towards his death, and let each of you consider that in the end he will be in the same situation as Hecastus. Farewell. You will soon see Hecastus, whose steward, Oeconomus, I am playing in this play, coming out onto the stage.
HECASTUS. There is no man living happier than I am, because I do not know if anything could be added to my happiness. My wife is beautiful; my sons are spirited; my daughters charming; my household is a large one. Furniture of various types adorns my luxurious home. My treasure house is bulging with gold, silver and amber; my chests and my hanging rods are loaded with many garments of purple, of scarlet, all of silk. My joyful flocks feed in very rich pastures; my lands are fertile; my revenues are favourable; but especially my many possessions and all that conduces to my happiness flow upon me as a healthy and prosperous man in the prime of his life.
Come, therefore, my soul, enjoy your own possessions. Eat, drink, feast with your good companions and friends, and don't be terrified by those who foretell to you that the day of judgement is coming and who with croaking throats predict to you that an account must be given of everything you possess or squander, and how you spent it. Those who bleat out such warnings are dealing in trifles. For it's common sense that everyone is the master of his own possessions and not the steward of them.
Now, therefore, my little wife has been called to talk about this evening's dinner; then this evening I shall give my orders about tomorrow's dinner that must be prepared to give pleasure. From here I shall go to visit my friend, Daemones, and I shall bury this day in jesting, dice and drinking.
Wife, come out of the house because, before I go to visit my friends, there are some orders that must be given to you with great care.
EPICURIA. Husband, why do you call me outside into this hot air? Why did you not give the necessary orders inside?
HECASTUS. How delicious and tender you have become, my rose. Why has your robe or your veil covered up those cheeks of yours?
EPICURIA. You're laughing at me?
HECASTUS. Me?
EPICURIA. Yes, you are. Now leave out the jokes and the foolery, my soul, and speak seriously.
HECASTUS. See to it that a luxurious and sumptuous feast is prepared for this evening. Let there be an abundant supply of roasts, and of boiled, broiled and stewed dishes. For tonight the leading citizens and their wives are to be most joyfully welcomed by us and treated with honour and graciousness.
EPICURIA. A fresh feast, husband? Guests again, Hecastus? Why, the spits are still warm, the hearths are hot, and so are the braziers. Dear Hecastus, are you going to invite guests for another feast?
HECASTUS. If anything is hot, let it continue to simmer. Everything must be prepared again.
EPICURIA. The food that was cooked yesterday has not yet been used up. It would be enough for four men and their wives, I think.
HECASTUS. You think, do you? Away with you and let all the food cooked be fresh food.
EPICURIA. May I ask who you think will eat it?
HECASTUS. Our relatives, friends, associates. For the rest, wife, it's none of your business to know ahead of time whom I shall bring home to dinner. You see to it that dishes are prepared to satisfy their appetites and their stomachs.
EPICURIA. May I ask whether it will be enough if I cook for three more?
HECASTUS. How stingy and stubborn is the race of women. I shall bring nine or ten. By God, may your wicked ways destroy you, you interrogator.
EPICURIA. Don't be angry, but remember that the priests have been warning us frequently in the public assembly that on the day of judgement an account must be given before the supreme judge of all the things, one by one, which we here are so prodigally wasting, so lavishly dispensing and consuming.
HECASTUS. I suppose the day of judgement is terrifying you now. What days of judgement are you talking to me about? Those who recount such stories are talking nonsense. They alarm us continually in order that they may milk for themselves the treasures from our chests. Surely it is lawful for me to spend what is mine according to my own wish or to enjoy what I have produced? It is at parricides, robbers, the circumcised dogs, the heathen and scoundrels of that kind that such harangues rage. Our baptism and Christ will keep us safe. Or if there is any evil in us, we will atone for it afterwards with our tears. And we are not altogether without virtue, for when there is anything in abundance, we sometimes disburse it to the poor, the orphans and foreigners. We attend the holy temples on holy days. We pour out to God the Lord's Prayer. We also keep our faith pure, undefiled by any sprinkling of impious dogmas. Go, stupid, and cook what must be cooked; the day of judgement is at this time far away; it will come at last after many centuries. Come, let us enjoy the present, while our youth favours us, the time pleases us and the fates allow. Go, my rose, prepare the dishes I ordered. I am going to Daemones, my closest friend, with whom I shall pass the time till evening in jesting, pleasantries and games.
EPICURIA. Go, then, and (because I cannot give you orders and do not wish to do so) please return in good time.
HECASTUS. O, one more thing.
EPICURIA. What now?
HECASTUS. If anyone asks for me, I don't want you to betray me easily or allow me to be called, because I have decreed that this day be free for enjoyment. Come with me, Panocnus.
PANOCNUS. Yes, sir.
HECASTUS. You, Epicuria, give the orders for the household.
EPICURIA. It shall be done. This husband of mine is becoming quite a spendthrift and is not calmed down either by gentle or harsh words. Unless I continually hold back something from these very extravagant expenditures, all our family possessions will melt away. Daetrus, are you there? Come here. He wanted food to be cooked for ten men or women; I shall shrewdly hold back half of these costs. On the new fires the old food must be recooked (provided it is wholesome) and it must all be brought in together. Daetrus, where are you?
DAETRUS. Daetrus is here. What do you want me to do, ma'am?
EPICURIA. Take this basket and these two golden coins and, from all things sold throughout the meat market, buy the best--as much as will be enough for ten men.
DAETRUS. Wonderful. Ten again today?
EPICURIA. Ten again.
DAETRUS. If you add two more gold coins, I shall scarcely be able to buy enough.
EPICURIA. Away with you, you hayseed. You say you will not buy the food?
DAETRUS. I shall not be able to buy it--not at today's prices for food. But if you listen to me. I'll give you quite honest advice. You should reheat and shrewdly place with the new food the old leftovers which are still around. By this means you'd save half the cost of buying new food.
EPICURIA. Good advice, if it can be done carefully.
DAETRUS. So carefully that you won't know yourself what has been done. Allow me at my own peril to risk my skin for this.
EPICURIA. I allow it. See to it that you do not modify this in any point of honour. Buy what you think will be necessary. I in the meantime will take care of what is important for pleasure and for sumptuousness.
DAETRUS. I will go. By God, toughness and stinginess are implanted by nature in a woman and cannot be plucked out by any consideration of honour. It was therefore better for me to obey and likewise to suggest what I certainly saw that she wished to be suggested to her. By this I win peace and thanks from her for myself. I see Daemones' door opening. I'll tear myself away, lest perchance my master catch me here.
HECASTUS. This is what I told you about inside, Daemones. Let's stop here and with our drinks set up the dice-box, to remove boredom afar off with dice and gambling.
DAEMONES. Yes, let's stop here. But by what rules shall we play?
HECASTUS. A small cup must be drained by the loser.
DAEMONES. No. Rather a large tankard must be drained by the loser and a small cup by the winner.
HECASTUS. That still pleases me. A large tankard full does not frighten me. Boy, come here. Fill these cups with wine, then take yourself off home and get busy; don't let me find anything unprepared. Then be careful, if anyone asks for me, not to mention where I am.
PANOCNUS. I won't mention it; but who will fill up your cups continually and serve you in other ways?
HECASTUS. The inactive man does not need another inactive man around. Go off, you lazy fellow; apply your hand to your work; we can take care of our business and will pour our own drinks. Go back home.
PANOCNUS. Yes, sir.
HECASTUS. Wait a minute. First of all, tell my wife that we shall be home this evening.
PANOCNUS. I'll tell her.
HECASTUS. Tell Philoponus to prepare the sweetest jar for the drawing of the wine.
PANOCNUS. Very well.
HECASTUS. Then tell the whole household to dress themselves carefully and to form a chorus and to welcome us joyfully with a song, because we have decided to dedicate this day and the night that follows to enjoyment.
PANOCNUS. I'll do it. Is there nothing else you order me to carry out?
HECASTUS. Nothing.
PANOCNUS. Goodbye. Take care; keep safe.
HECASTUS. Now, let's get on with our sport.
DAEMONES. Let's go. Look, two aces.
HECASTUS. Two sixes.
DAEMONES. Two twos.
HECASTUS. Two fives.
DAEMONES. Two threes.
HECASTUS. Two fours.
DAEMONES. Two fours. My winning streak will soon stop.
HECASTUS. Two threes.
DAEMONES. Look, two fives.
HECASTUS. Two twos. Mine is the low.
DAEMONES. Two sixes. This high promises me victory.
HECASTUS. Two aces. This throw was certainly a wonder.
DAEMONES. It was indeed, but now I shall change the luck. I beat you. Look, a three and a four.
HECASTUS. You are beating me, and this gas in my stomach seems to have beaten me.
DAEMONES. What are you babbling about?
HECASTUS. I'm not babbling, but let's go inside.
DAEMONES. Let's go, but first each of us should drain his cup.
HECASTUS. Drink first. I'll follow.
DAEMONES. I've drunk mine up. Follow me and you'll cure your bad luck with drinking.
HECASTUS. It's what Aesculapius did.
DAEMONES. He did. Drink up, now.
HECASTUS. I've drunk it up but I don't feel anything yet. Let's go inside, Daemones, and, out of the wind, finish the game we started with more spirit.
DAEMONES. Agreed. For the north wind has often brought many perils to a body to make it sick.
CHORUS (from Chapter 2, The Wisdom of Solomon). Friends, in the end our flesh shall be nothing but burnt-out ashes and like the soft air our breath shall dissolve. Like the track of a cloud this life of ours shall pass, like a mist that must be dissipated, which melts in the rays of the sun. Just like the passing of a shadow is the time of our sweet life and of our work, and with time our names shall be forgotten. Therefore, friends, let us enjoy these present favourable conditions, such as our youth, with all speed, steeped in wine and fragrance. Let not the flower of time pass; let us crown our heads with the spring roses that are blooming in every meadow and at every crossroad before they wither away. Let no one be deprived of joy. Let us leave our mark of joyousness everywhere, because this is mortals' only portion and destiny.
Return to Hecastus Act List | Go on to Act Two