PINCHAS
(not hearing him)
The dogs. The liars.
WITBERG
(trying to placate him)
Perhaps a little well placed music would not hurt.
PINCHAS
They won't even let me attend rehearsals. Who can tell how they have mangled it? Such ghouls.
TUCH
After all, Goldberg knows his business.
VON MIESES
You shouldn't have tried to replace Fanny. Goldberg is very proud of his wife's talent.
PINCHAS
He has reason. She has so little, every bit is precious.
OSTROVSKY
(rubbing it in)
Where are our tickets? You promised us all box seats.
PINCHAS
They didn't send me any. Liars. Murderers. Slayers of poets. They fear I fire Ophelia.
OSTROVSKY
(relishing his rival's predicament, especially as he has suffered the same fate himself)
Surely you are going to attend?
PINCHAS
(dejected)
The box office is sold out.
OSTROVSKY
Well, that's a good sign.
PINCHAS
I don't believe them. It's a conspiracy to keep me out. But they won't succeed.
TUCH
What will you do?
PINCHAS
(raving)
I'll do something if I have to fire the theatre.
OSTROVSKY
Why don't you call Goldwater on the phone?
PINCHAS
That's an excellent idea. Will I give him a piece of my mind. Witberg, a dime.
(Taking a dime from Witberg, he strides to the phone, followed by
the whole cafe, eager to hear some precious witticisms.)
OSTROVSKY
Be sure to disguise your voice.
(Pinchas dials and waits.)
TUCH
This will go down in history.
MIESES It may not be a good idea.
PINCHAS
(in a high pitched voice)
This is George Bernard Shaw, you Goldwater? May I speak to Goldwater, tell him the critic Bernard Shaw wants to congratulate him.
(to the crowd)
Goldwater's too dumb to know that Shaw doesn't speak Yiddish.
(in a high pitched voice)
Hello, Mr. Goldwater, is that you? It is.
(changing back to his natural voice)
Pigs! Pigs! Pigs! You and Kloot. I have cast my pearls before swine. May a sudden death smite you. May the curtain fall on you, you gibbering epileptic baboon. What do you mean you can't hear? Speak plainer? I will speak plainer, swineherd! Never again shall a work of mine defile itself in your dirty dollar factory. I spit on you. Phutt . . .
(spitting into the receiver)
Your father was a Meshummad and your mother . . . Don't hang up, I'm not finished. . . . And your mother, an Irish fish wife.
(turning from the phone)
He hung up. Coward. I had a lot more to say. That was worth ten cents.
(He hangs up the phone and walks to a table with great satisfaction.)
OSTROVSKY
I'll say this for him. He's got shtick. The happiest day in my life would be to say half of what he just said to Goldwater.
(Enter Heathen Journalist.)
HEATHEN JOURNALIST
Congratulations Pin'cuss. Your play's a great success.
PINCHAS
Ehh?
HEATHEN JOURNALIST
I had to leave early; got a deadline to meet. Nearly eleven and only two acts finished. You'll have to brisk 'em up a bit.
PINCHAS
If I get my hands on Goldwater, I'll brisk him up. Never fear.
(uneasily)
How was the play?
HEATHEN JOURNALIST
Well, it's not quite what I expected from listening to you, or reading Shakespeare. All that cabaret music and those funny lines.
PINCHAS
Cabaret music! Funny lines! There wasn't a funny line in the whole play.
HEATHEN JOURNALIST
There is now. Mrs. Goldwater is stealing the show, she's a howling success.
PINCHAS
(ready to weep)
Howling success. I'll kill them. All of them.
HEATHEN JOURNALIST
Well, got to go. Congrats.
(The Heathen Journalist starts for the door, but suddenly Pinchas gives chase.)
PINCHAS
