JONS
(drunk)
Precisely. For ten years we sat in the Holy
Land and let snakes bite us, flies sting us,
wild animals eat us, heathens butcher us, the
wine poison us, the women give us lice, the
lice devour us, the fevers rot us, all for the
Glory of God. Our crusade was such madness that
only a real idealist could have thought it up.
But what you said about the plague was
horrible.
PAINTER
It's worse than that.
JONS
Ah, me. No matter which way you turn, you have
your rump behind you. That's the truth.
PAINTER
The rump behind you, the rump behind you
there's a profound truth.
JONS paints a small figure which is supposed to represent himself.
JONS
This is squire Jöns. He grins at Death, mocks
the Lord, laughs at himself and leers at the
girls. His world is a Jöns world, believable
only to himself, ridiculous to all including
himself, meaningless to Heaven and of no
interest to Hell.