Master Olof: A Drama in Five Acts | Page 8

logically and suitably wrung from the lips of Vilhelm, the scholar who is still dreaming of uncompromised ideals. But it is not the final word. This comes from Olof, and takes the form of a brief apostrophe to the fleeing Vilhelm, which I think ranks with the finest passages produced by Strindberg. Apologetically, I offer this English version of it as a fitting close to my Introduction:
Olof. Oh, what a word! But though it shook the air, These columns did not stir, nor fell the dome, And I stand calm upon this lonely shore, Where I was dropped by the receding waves-- For, after all, I am ashore. And now A last "good luck upon the road" I send To speed the daring sailor who will give No ear to one that just has come to grief. With sails hauled close, steer for the open sea And for the far-off goal your soul desires! Ere long you must fall off like all the rest, Although a star your guiding landmark be For in due time the stars themselves must fall!
EDWIN BJORKMAN MAY 15, 1915

MASTER OLOF
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
OLOF PEDERSSON (Olaus Petri), generally known as MASTER OLOF. GERT THE PRINTER. GUSTAF ERIKSSON VASA, King of Sweden. HANS BRASK, Bishop of Link?ping. M?NS SOMMAR, Bishop of Str?ngn?s. LARS SIGGESON, Lord High Constable. LARS ANDERSSON (Laurentius Andreae), Lord High Chancellor. LARS PEDERSSON (Laurentius Petri), brother of Master Olof. HANS WINDRANK, a Master Mariner. A Man from Sm?land. A German. A Dane. M?RTEN and NILS, Black Friars. A Tavern-keeper. A Burier. First Scholar. Second Scholar. The Sexton at St. Nicolaus (or Greatchurch). A Servant of the Palace. An Overseer. A Townsman. A Courtier. DAME CHRISTINE, Olof's mother. CHRISTINE, daughter of Gert the Printer. A Harlot. A Woman. The Sexton's Wife. The Abbess of St. Clara. Headsman, Townsfolk, Laborers, etc.
ACT I: At Str?ngn?s.
ACTS II, III, IV, AND V: At Stockholm.

ACT I
(A Cloister opening upon a Convent Close planted with groups of trees. The convent church forms the right side of the quadrangle. A brick wall runs along the rear. Fruit trees in blossom appear above the wall. Olof is seated on a stone bench. Before him stand two scholars, who are reading their respective parts out of "The Comedy of Tobit.")
First Scholar. Now have our enemies trapped us full well. Woe unto us, poor children of Israel!
Second Scholar. Yea, brother, good cause you have to make such plaint! Now certes we have come upon days of great lament-- Our land is taken away, and so's our increase, And ne'er we may look for any help or surcease. It must be, as long I have both dreamt and said, That the promise to Abram has been long mislaid.
[Enter Lars Andersson.]
Lars Andersson. What are you doing?
Olof. I am playing.
Lars. Playing--you?
Olof. I am playing a little comedy about the children of Israel and the Babylonian captivity.
Lars. Have you nothing better to do? Bigger work is waiting for you.
Olof. I am too young.
Lars. Do not say you are too young.
Olof. No, for there are plenty of others who say it.
Lars (takes out a roll of paper, which he opens; for a while he stands looking at Olof; then he begins to read) "Then the word of the Lord came unto Jeremiah: 'Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.'
"Then said Jeremiah: 'Ah, Lord God! behold, I cannot speak, for I am a child.'
"But the Lord said: 'Say not, I am a child; for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak. For, behold, I have made thee this day a defenced city, and an iron pillar, and brazen walls against the whole land, against the kings of Judah, against the princes thereof, against the priests thereof, and against the people of the land. And they shall fight against thee; but they shall not prevail against thee; for I am with thee,' saith the Lord, 'to deliver thee.'"
Olof (leaping to his feet). Did the Lord say that?
Lars. "Thou therefore gird up thy loins and arise, and speak unto them all that I command thee."
Olof. Why do not you go?
Lars. I am too old.
Olof. You are afraid!
Lars. I am, for I have not the strength; but you have--and now may the Lord give you the faith also.
Olof. Oh, once I did have the flame of faith, and it burned wondrously, but the monkish gang smothered it with their holy water when they were trying to read the devil out of my body.
Lars. That was a fire of straw which had to flicker out; but now the Lord will light you a fire of logs by which the offspring of the