{"id":830,"date":"2013-04-20T02:15:00","date_gmt":"2013-04-20T00:15:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/?page_id=830"},"modified":"2013-05-03T02:19:49","modified_gmt":"2013-05-03T00:19:49","slug":"17-the-fall-of-the-house-of-usher","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/vdgg.art.pl\/portal\/teksty\/teksty-oryginalne\/teksty-ph-solo\/17-the-fall-of-the-house-of-usher\/","title":{"rendered":"17. The Fall of the House of Usher"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\nACT ONE<\/strong><\/p>\n

THE CHORUS The chorus has often an unenviable role to play,
\noften a distasteful task to perform;
\nsummoned as witness to uncounted crime,
\nshe’s the silent accomplice of all,
\nthen she turns and comments on the action.<\/p>\n

She hears… observes, but must never betray her emotions
\nShe moves, unseen, the characters oblivion of her presence;
\na simple stage device.<\/p>\n

She cannot hide, cannot take sides.
\nIt his curse that she must stay and comment on the action…<\/p>\n

A young man named Montresor lately received an urgent
\nletter from a dear friend of childhood,
\nRoderick Usher by name,
\nIn which his friend begged him to come
\nwith all speed to the family seat.<\/p>\n

So, during the whole of a dull, dark and soundless day
\nin the autumn of the year,
\nwhen the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens,
\nhe had been passing through
\na singularly dreary tract of country
\n’till he found himself,
\nas the shades of night drew on,
\nwithin view of the melancholy house of Usher<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR: That must be the house.
\nThere is no other within many miles.
\nBut surely not… It’s just an empty shell,
\ndevoid of life;
\na sterile outcrop of stone amid the mire.<\/p>\n

But there can be no doubt, this is the house!
\nAnd yet it looks so dark, so forbidding , so dead.<\/p>\n

That great crumbling facade,
\nwindows just like vacant eyes
\nthat peer upon the stagnant,
\nglistening blackness of the lake…
\nI have never seen anything like it!<\/p>\n

The gloom, the rotting dankness of the place…
\nIt must be my imagination,
\nthe darkness and the cold…<\/p>\n

Yet still, far beneath the plane of thought
\nand quite against my will,
\nmy heart begins to tremble
\nin mad anticipation of the House
\nand I am forced to recognise
\na consciousness of fear;
\na cold and senseless fear,
\nnameless, formless, chilling to the bone…<\/p>\n

No, it’s just the leaden air that makes me
\nforget myself, the weather and the dusk.
\nThis must be all that sets my teeth on edge
\nand the hairs at the nape of my neck to attention.<\/p>\n

And what of his sister?
\nThis does not speak of her
\nbut I understand she, too, lives with him
\nhere in the House of Usher,
\nhome of the family for five hundred years or more.
\nIt’s a strange place, a strange house,
\nan even stranger clan;
\nall either saints or mad,
\nnot an ordinary man among them;
\ngeniuses all…<\/p>\n

But, all time-honoured as it is,
\nthe Usher race has put forth no enduring branch.
\nAnd so from sire to son, from sire to son
\nthe patrimony and the name have been passed.
\nThrough all their ancestry no cousins,
\naunts of bastards
\ndisturb the singular symmetry
\nof the family tree.<\/p>\n

Well then, so I am here; I have come;
\nand it is too late, to dark to run.
\nBut what a chilling sight,
\nthis palace crouching in the night…<\/p>\n

Ah, there! A light!
\nI am awaited; I am expected;
\nI shall not disappoint my friend.<\/p>\n

End of Act One<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

ACT TWO<\/strong><\/p>\n

THE VOICES House. Wet Vaults. Caissons. We breathe…
\nOF THE Undercroft. Abutments. Stones. Wood. Breathe…
\nHOUSE Buttresses. Bressumers. Spandrels. We Breathe…
\nColumns and Pillars. Shafts. Arches. Capitals. Breathe….<\/p>\n

We breathe. We are waiting.
\nWe rise. We are waiting.
\nWe are Usher. House of Usher.<\/p>\n

Pilasters. Quoins. Piers.
\nSpandrels and columns that shaft through the years.
\nHouse of Usher.
\nWainscots. Stairs. Balusters. Cusps and Cornices.
\nSpandrels and Columns the capital years.
\nHouse of Usher.<\/p>\n

We breathe. We are waiting
\nWe rise. We are waiting.
\nWe are Usher. House of Usher.<\/p>\n

Beams. Corbels. Joists. Kingposts.
\nCopings and Chimney-shafts.
\nRidge-ribs. Struts. Stanchions. Parapets.
\nPediments. Mansards and Gargoyles.
\nThe eaves. The dripping eaves…
\nCupola. Finials. Gables. Tiles. Lead…<\/p>\n

We breathe. We are waiting.
\nWe rise. We are waiting.
\nWe are Usher. House of Usher.
\nWe are Keystone. We are Usher.<\/p>\n

RODERICK USHER
\n(„The Sleeper”) The lady sleeps. oh, may her sleep
\nwhich is enduring so be deep!
\nHeaven hold her in its sacred keep!
\nThis chamber changed for one more holy,
\nthis bed for one of melancholy.
\nI pray to God that she may lie
\nforever with unopened eye
\nwhile the dim, sheeted ghosts go by.<\/p>\n

My love, she sleeps. Oh, may her sleep
\nas it is lasting so be deep!
\nSoft may the worms around her creep!
\nFar in the forest, dim and old,
\nnow may some tall vault enfold her;
\nsome vault that oft hath flung its black
\nand winged panels fluttering back
\ntriumphant o’er the crested palls
\nof her grand family funerals….<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

I didn’t mean to interrupt…
\nMontresor, you came!
\nDid you think I’d ignore your letter?
\nMontresor, you’re here!
\nCome let me help you with your coat.
\nSit down and rest yourself.
\nOh, it’s so good to see you here!
\nNow tell me all your news…
\nI see you’ve changed a bit, my friend…
\nNow won’t you have a drink…
\nYes, yes
\nbut one thing at a time!
\nFirst you must tell me what…
\nBut I expect I too have changed.
\nHow many years could it be now
\nsince last we said farewell?
\nIt must be ten years
\nsince our last meeting,
\nYes, it must be ten years
\nsince our last meeting since our last meeting.
\nTell me what is wrong?
\nYour letter spoke
\nof a malady;
\nsome desperate trial
\nyou could not face alone…
\nOh, no, you tell me all your doings!
\nTell me.
\nTell me
\nhow you pass your days how you pass your days
\nTell me
\nfrom the beginning. from the beginning
\nTell me
\neverything everything
\nthat’s happened
\nsince we went our since we went our
\nseparate ways. separate ways.
\nLook at me…
\nI have not left these walls
\nthese three years,
\nI do not dare to do so!
\nI am imprisoned and fear is my gaoler.
\nEach word I speak
\nseems too dangerous.
\nMy slightest act could bring about
\nthe very thing I fear
\nBut fear of what?
\nHush, and I shall tell you…
\ntell you…<\/p>\n

USHER I shun the light,
\ncreep in the gloom like a toad, a white worm,
\ntortured by the faintest gleam of sun.
\nI hear…
\noh God, if you could only know the things I hear!<\/p>\n

I hear the lake sucking at the walls,
\nI hear bats breathing
\nI hear the sky moan to join with the slime!<\/p>\n

And this,
\nall this like thunder to me,
\nlike thunder!<\/p>\n

My senses scream at me:
\nSight… Touch… Sight… Touch…
\nSound and Taste… Sound and Scent,
\nAll torment and claw at my sanity.<\/p>\n

There is no hiding place for me,
\nfor even in the quietest of my rooms,
\nI hear the walls in conversation;
\nI hear the palpitations of my heart;
\nI feel all that lives and does not move
\nand know it knows my feeling.<\/p>\n

My only peace lies in my music
\nand then only because it drowns out
\nall other sounds and souls…<\/p>\n

You may think that I am mad, but it is not so.
\nMy senses reel beneath the blow of feathers falling
\nand more…
\nBut no, I see you do not understand.<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR Oh, my poor dear friend,
\nyou must see you are not well.
\nI’ve read of this before,
\nI think it’s called Hyperaesthesis.
\nI’m no doctor, but it’s clear
\nyour nerves have gone to pieces.
\nYou need to get away,
\nyou need a holiday,
\nyou need a change of air!
\nYou need an ocean cruise,
\nyou need to be amused!
\nI tell you plain, this House
\nto me seems most unhealthy.
\nYou’re unattached, you’re free to go, you’re wealthy.<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR THE CHORUS<\/p>\n

Leave this House.
\nLeave this House.
\nLeave this House
\nand come away.
\nLeave this House
\nI cannot!
\nLeave this House!
\nI cannot!
\nLeave this House!
\nHere I must stay.
\nHere I must stay.
\nYou are wasting
\nyour time.
\nHe will never
\nleave…
\nI can never
\nleave here
\ntherefore do
\nnot ask me
\nsay no more I’ve heard of this before
\nand let me be I think it’s called Hyperaesthesis
\nI can never I’m no doctor but it’s clear
\nleave here your nerves have gone to pieces.
\ntherefore do your nerves have gone to pieces.
\nnot ask me.
\nSay no more
\nand let me be
\nI cannot leave
\nHe cannot leave
\nThe House is I
\nThe House is he
\nWe are as one
\nThey are as one
\nAnd I would die
\nand so must die
\nNow you must leave
\nI He cannot leave
\ncannot Now you must fly
\nleave The House is he
\nNow you must run
\nThe They are as one
\nHouse is No-one will die
\nI And so must die
\nI cannot leave
\nNow you must leave
\nHe cannot leave
\nThe House is I
\nNow you must fly
\nThe House is he
\nWe are as one
\nNow you must run
\nand so must die
\nand so must die
\nNo-one will die<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR THE HOUSE<\/p>\n

We shall
\nnot let
\nhim go!
\nWe shall not
\nLeave let him go!
\nDo not torture me! this We shall not
\nDo not try to persuade! House let him go!<\/p>\n

We shall not
\nLeave let him go!
\nIt only brings me grief this We shall not
\nHouse let him go!
\nLeave this House We shall not
\nI cannot leave let him go!
\nWe shall not
\nlet him go!
\nshall not let him go!<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR THE CHORUS THE HOUSE<\/p>\n

Leave this House
\nI cannot
\nLeave this House
\nI cannot
\nLeave this House Leave this House
\nand come with me We shall not
\nlet him go.
\nLeave this House
\nI cannot Never, never
\nLeave this House never!
\nI cannot
\nLeave this House
\nand come with me Never! Never, never,
\nnever!
\nNever! Never, never,
\nnever!
\nI can never We are bound
\nleave here together
\ntherefore do for the last time so never
\nnot ask me I entreat you He shall he shall
\nsay no more never leave never leave
\nand let me be. We are bound
\ntogether
\nfor the last time so never
\nI entreat you He shall he shall
\nLeave! never leave never leave.
\nDo not
\ntalk to me Never
\ndo not try never
\nto persuade Leave! never
\nHe shall never
\nnever leave
\nLeave this house
\nOh Montresor never never
\nI beg of you never never
\nI can never never
\nnever leave never never
\nI can never never never
\nleave this house Leave this house never never
\nI can never You are wasting never never
\nleave this house Leave this house you time never never
\nI can never he will never never never
\nleave this house Leave! leave never never
\nnever!
\nThe House
\nis I.<\/p>\n

End of Act Two<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

ACT THREE<\/strong><\/p>\n

(Immediately afterwards, Madeline Usher enters, in a trance)<\/p>\n

MADELINE Carriages at seven
\nI shall wear the flower he gave me
\nIt’s so cold here
\ndeep beneath the lapping water…<\/p>\n

The water
\nThe water
\nMy love<\/p>\n

Head against his shoulder,
\n'cross the lawn I hear the music…
\nSilent blackness,
\nIn the lake I’m sinking slowly…
\nOh, how lovely,
\nnothing could be more becoming…
\nUnderwater,
\nfloating in the icy darkness…
\nCount the candles
\n'May I dance with you this evening?’…
\nOn the surface
\nSwans are feeding high above me…
\nHold him tightly
\nround and round the floor we’re spinning
\nBreathing water
\nI am drowning
\nWatch the sun rise
\ndriving home across the meadows…
\nAll is darkness
\nI can feel myself dissolving<\/p>\n

The water
\nThe water
\nThe darkness
\nThe darkness
\nMy love<\/p>\n

Head against his shoulder
\nFloating in the icy darkness
\nHold him tightly
\nI can feel myself dissolving
\nOh how lovely
\nDeep beneath the lapping water
\nCount the candles
\nI am drowning I am drowning
\nCount the candles
\nFloating in the icy darkness
\nHold him tightly
\nI can feel myself dissolving
\nOh how lovely
\nDeep beneath the lapping water
\nCount the candles
\nI am drowning
\nOh how lovely
\nI am drowning I am drowning
\nOh how lovely
\nOh how lovely
\nOh how lovely<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR Stop, Madeline, look at me!
\nMy god, man, what is wrong with her?<\/p>\n

USHER Yes, it’s right you should know,
\nShe is dying!
\nI have not dared to speak of it.
\nA chronic catalepsy had drained her of her youth.
\nI have watched her waste away and could do nothing!<\/p>\n

A period of health is followed by sudden coma,
\ndeath-like sleep.
\nIt can last a full day or more,
\nno movement, no colour, no flame in the cheeks.<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR What, then of these dreaming visions?<\/p>\n

USHER The recovery, ah, this is even worse!
\nShe rises and moves about the house
\nbut her mind still sleeps…
\nYou see her now a mindless ghost:
\nBeautiful, dead eyes stare in sleep, unrecognising.
\nShe speaks in dreams, sees only dreams,
\nshe haunts the house in hideous sleepwalking
\nand may not be restrained, for like some automaton
\nshe tirelessly thrusts and tears herself
\nagainst her fetters,
\nheedless of injury.
\nAnd so she walks and then she wakes,
\nremembering nothing, so week that she can
\nbarely build up strength before she is struck down again.<\/p>\n

Month after month each attack worse than the last.
\nDeath will not wait long.
\nHer final days are flickering past.
\nDear God,
\nhelpless,
\nhelpless!<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR But what is the word from her doctors?
\nDo they hold out no hope, nor offer any treatment?<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR CHORUS<\/p>\n

They do not understand
\nher case
\nand cannot treat a case
\nthey do not understand
\nHe does not understand
\nYou’re dealing with a case
\nWho is her doctor,
\na specialist I trust?
\nYes indeed, one of
\nthe foremost rank
\nYou’re dealing
\nwith a case
\nThen he will help her,
\nMontresor oh, yes,
\nno more of this he surely must You do not understand
\nnow
\nno more talk He does not
\nof cures, please, understand
\nOr of doctor.
\nI bless you concern,
\nbut know that she
\nwill walk no more tonight.
\nWhen she wakes soon
\nshe will need my care.
\nI must be there, so,
\ndear friend, goodnight.<\/p>\n

(Usher exits with Madeline, leaving Montresor alone. The Herbalist enters)<\/p>\n

THE HERBALIST Good evening, sir.
\nAnd you must be the friend of Mister Usher.
\nI’m so pleased to meet you, sir,
\nbut have little time to spare
\nfor knowledge such as mine is wanted everywhere.
\nIn poor dwellings, yes, but some as great as Usher’s.
\nMy card…
\nMONTRESOR 'J. Ducrow, Esq. Herbalist,
\nDoctor of Natural Medicine’…
\nHERBALIST At you service, and it could be, sir,
\nthat you have need of my panaceas now…
\nI have Mandrake juice that will slake any fever,
\ncures to convince you though you be an unbeliever now…<\/p>\n

Laugh – would you? – at these seeds of mine.
\nYou question the cure’s causes,
\nbut Logic and Reason do not answer,
\nand Nature runs her courses.<\/p>\n

I have purest poppy for the soundest of sleeps;
\na pure cake of hemp plant
\nthat’s a warranted surcease of worldly sorrow.
\nLying words will be believed
\nif perfumed by this pastil,
\nor my elixir’s guaranteed
\nto bend the will of fairest womankind.<\/p>\n

Scheme, would you, for a worldly gain?
\nLust after a frigid virgin?
\nMy herbs can grant your secret cravings
\nand my price is modest!<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR No! No!<\/p>\n

HERBALIST And my price is modest…<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR No, thank you! No!<\/p>\n

HERBALIST Oh it’s very modest…<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR No, no thank you!
\nNo!
\nNo thank you,
\nNo!<\/p>\n

HERBALIST Perhaps a poultice of Toadbane
\nfor weakness of the manly parts,
\ncaused by too much wine or age,
\nperhaps by over-frequent natural indulgence…<\/p>\n

Applied with skill, it will
\nrevive the fleshy passions of a corpse…
\n…of a corpse<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR I said no
\nI meant no!<\/p>\n

HERBALIST Well then, Good-day…<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR So that is Usher’s idea of a doctor!
\nThat wretched mountebank can’t help them.
\nI confront madness face to face!
\nAnd whatever it’s cause, it lies within this place
\nI breathe an atmosphere of sorrow;
\nan alien despair makes my courage fail,
\nlike the collapse of an opium vision,
\nthe hideous dropping of the veil<\/p>\n

CHORUS Tormented by a thousand doubts and fancies,
\nhe will not sleep tonight.
\nChilled by the gloom of his surroundings,
\nmortal, half-dead mortar.<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR CHORUS<\/p>\n

He will not sleep!
\nI see simple solutions
\nHe will not sleep!
\nState them laud and clear,
\nbut the echoes of the House He will not sleep!
\nshout 'Unreason!’
\nThe one thing that I fear.
\nThe evil that is done
\ncannot be undone.
\nThe evil that will come
\ncannot be prevented.<\/p>\n

The evil that is done
\nYet somehow I must help
\nthese two tormented souls,
\ncannot be undone.
\nfor if I cannot, who will?
\nThe evil that will come
\nThese are the friends
\nI’ve loved so dearly…
\ncannot be prevented
\nLeave!
\nNo! What a monstrous thought!
\nDepart!
\nHow could I even think of it!
\nGo!
\nAbandon those who have need of me!
\nLeave!
\nOh, but what a temptation,
\nDepart!
\nto run like a thief in the night,
\nGo!
\nAnd yet now I cannot
\nbecause it is too late Before it is too late,
\nI feel myself bound up in before you are bound up in
\nthe web of fear and pain, the web of fear and pain,
\nthe evil that surrounds me. the evil that surrounds you.
\nIt cannot be undone.
\nIt cannot be undone.
\nThe evil that will come
\ncannot be prevented.<\/p>\n

End of Act Three<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

ACT FOUR<\/strong><\/p>\n

(The following morning)<\/p>\n

MADELINE That must be Montresor…
\nGood morning! Oh, how lovely to see you –
\nsince Roderick told me you were coming
\nI have been so excited.
\nNow you are here, all will be well once more.
\nI was not here last night to greet you,
\nyou must think me ill-mannered,
\nbut sadly I am not enjoying the good health I used to…<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR Yes.
\nMadeline, I must confess it’s hard finding words
\nthat say what I feel…<\/p>\n

MADELINE Oh, Montresor, you’re being solemn
\nand it’s all quite uncalled for.
\nI feel quite sure I’m growing stronger
\nand the doctor agrees with me –
\nso you see all will be well once more.<\/p>\n

Five years ago we were a very different family,
\nbut how things change!
\nRoderick and I were both living abroad when father died.
\nWe both returned from Florence
\nto take up Roderick’s inheritance.
\nThe House was dark and so full of sadness.<\/p>\n

But you know my brother and how sensitive he is.
\nHe lives in the music of his wild melodies.
\nNow as time went by so his songs grew sadder,
\nnow he never smiled as he played.
\nNow he sings of death and some things even madder;
\nshuts himself away, brooding to himself,
\ncome to me at night,
\nstaring at my face ’till I fell afraid.<\/p>\n

MADELINE MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

When I am better we must all
\nholiday together
\nas in the old days. Yes, you know
\nhow much I’d love that
\nYou would be good for us both,
\nas good for us both as before
\nYou look so much the same!
\nI must confess that you have changed…
\nDo you remember? Everything.
\nThe fragile hour,
\nthe silent walk with a friend.<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR As we walk so we tread
\n& MADELINE on the words left unsaid
\nI can’t say them no matter how hard I try<\/p>\n

We chatter on, then the moment’s gone,
\nthe one for which I’ve hoped
\nand I’ve prayed and I’ve planned.
\nStop the clock’s advance!
\nI need a second chance,
\nI need that second’s glance
\nwhen my hand touched you hand.<\/p>\n

I’d take you in my arms and say 'I love you’
\nbut it won’t come back to me.<\/p>\n

It’s over now,
\nit’s over now,
\nit’s over now, you see.<\/p>\n

If I hadn’t been afraid to touch you
\nwould you have been afraid to fall in love with me?
\nWould it be over?
\nWould it be over now?
\nPerhaps it wouldn’t be.<\/p>\n

And each hour limits choice
\nin so gentle a voice
\n’till the hour that we realise no choice remains.<\/p>\n

So we await
\njust one chance to cheat our fate,
\nbut then if we hesitate
\nwe lose the power to act at all.
\nFor once that moment’s past
\nwe simply stand aghast
\nas life rolls to disaster
\nand we stand an watch it fall.
\nI’d take you in my arms and say 'I love you’
\nbut I think we both agree.<\/p>\n

It’s over now,
\nit’s over now, you see.
\nIt’s over now,
\nit’s over now, you see.<\/p>\n

If I hadn’t been afraid to touch you
\nwould you have been afraid to fall in love with me?
\nWould it be over?
\nWould it be over now?
\nPerhaps it wouldn’t be.<\/p>\n

If I hadn’t been afraid to touch you
\nwould you have been afraid to fall in love with me?
\nWould it be over?
\nWould it be over now?
\nThe way it seems to be.<\/p>\n

(Madeline exits as Usher enters)<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

Yes, she does not know it yet;
\nPerhaps for the best
\nso sure she will recover
\nand so full of life full of life
\nfull of life,
\nmy brave my brave
\nMadeline Madeline<\/p>\n

This House devours her
\nso take her from this place
\npreparing the final torment
\nof its empty space empty space
\na silent, empty space silent empty space
\nwithout
\nwithout
\nMadeline Madeline
\nMadeline
\nThis is only a house my friend<\/p>\n

USHER Which, by dint of long and undisturbed endurance.
\nby its mere form and substance,
\nhas obtained an influence, a silent
\nyet importunate and terrifying hold
\nwhich, for centuries,
\nhas moulded the destiny of my family
\nand now makes of me whatever it is I am.<\/p>\n

The House is Usher and Usher is the House:
\nthe two are indivisible.
\nIt was born with us, prospered with us, suffered too.
\nAnd it will, in some way, die with us, soon.<\/p>\n

I am the last of the Usher,
\nmine is the last drop of Usher blood,
\nThe last of the Usher!<\/p>\n

The House has told me in midnight breathing
\nfrom my chamber walls,
\nthe House has told me in the secret murmur
\nof the stones that none can hear save I.<\/p>\n

I am the last of the Usher,
\nmy sister’s death shall leave me so;
\nI am the last of the Usher,
\nso in Usher’s House I will wait alone.<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR Roderick, this is nightmare talk.
\nCome back with me, both of you, while you’re yet able
\nYou can’t stay here and rot!<\/p>\n

USHER There will be no rot!
\nNo rot in Usher!
\nWe have lived with thunder,
\nand with thunder shall we fall!<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR I cannot make you come but hear what I say.
\nSend Madeline with me to some healthy place.<\/p>\n

USHER No rot! No rot in Usher!
\nWe have lived by lightning
\nand but lightning shall we fall!<\/p>\n

No slide into slow decay,
\nno shrivelling splendour
\nno gradual ebbing away,
\nno quiet surrender!<\/p>\n

No rot! No rot in Usher!
\nWe have lived as Titans and as Titans we must fall!<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

Don’t talk of rot
\nStop!
\nNo rot in Usher!
\nStop!
\nRoderick, try and calm yourself
\nJust tell me why I should! this cannot do you good.<\/p>\n

These thoughts…
\nNo!
\nare folly.
\nNo!
\nEverything I’ve tried to I have tried to help you
\ntell you, you’ve misunderstood I’ve done everything I could.<\/p>\n

Come, why should we fight
\nthis way
\nwe have enough troubles.
\nWhat was it we used to say? What was it we used to say?
\nA problem shared is doubled! A problem shared is doubled!
\nUshers do not flee! Ushers to not flee!
\nMontresors stand firm! Montresors stand firm!
\nSo we stand together, So we stand together,
\nstand together stand together<\/p>\n

By dint of long
\nand undisturbed endurance…
\nwe could defeat the House,
\nmy friend.<\/p>\n

VOICES OF We shall not
\nTHE HOUSE let him go!
\nWe shall not let him go!<\/p>\n

End of Act Four<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

ACT FIVE<\/strong><\/p>\n

CHORUS Late that evening the Lady Madeline
\nagain succumbed to the power
\nof her dark afflictions.
\nHer brother and her friend sat by her
\nand Montresor, although familiar with many
\nof the gross and wonderful
\nphenomena of morbid flesh
\nmarvelled at the depth and completeness of her coma.
\nLife so exactly mirroring death
\nthat only the merest of involuntary pulses
\nbetrayed the presence of a Spirit hiding within.
\nIn the cold hours before dawn they broke their vigil
\nand Montresor retired to a restless sleep
\nonly to be woken as a grey light spread from the east
\nacross the leaden tarn.<\/p>\n

(Usher and the Herbalist enter)
\nUSHER Montresor,
\nshe is dead.<\/p>\n

She is dead,
\nI sat by her,
\nI watched her;
\nI am alone.<\/p>\n

USHER, That she should die so,
\nMONTRESOR, that she should die so young,
\nHERBALIST fate is cruel, fate is hard.<\/p>\n

Why must innocence be punished?
\nNeed a flower fall so fast?
\nWhy must innocence be punished?
\nWas her soul too good to last?
\nNow the punishment is finished
\nAnd the fever… the fever called 'Living’…
\nthat fever’s conquered at last.<\/p>\n

USHER Will you do something for me?<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR With all my heart<\/p>\n

USHER I wish my sister to be entombed
\nin one of the vaults beneath the House.<\/p>\n

The family burial ground is remote,
\nto lead her cortege there would
\nrequire a strength of will I do not command.
\nWill you help me bear her?<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR Of course, of course I will…<\/p>\n

USHER Come then, before I fully realise my loss.<\/p>\n

End of Act Five<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n

ACT SIX<\/strong><\/p>\n

CHORUS Three endless days of bitter grief passed
\nand Montresor abandoned any attempt to cheer his friend.
\nThen came a sudden change in Usher’s
\ndemeanour, whose significance he was soon to comprehend.<\/p>\n

Now Usher stands for hour on hour
\nwith head inclined and eyes half-closed,
\nas if beneath the deep and sullen silence
\na sound exists for which he listens; a sound without end.<\/p>\n

Now Usher walks for hour on hour.
\nWith ashen face and trembling step, he climbs each stair,
\nHe climbs each tower; still hears it there.<\/p>\n

CHORUS AND No. It’s only the
\nTHE VOICES beating of the heart,
\nOF THE HOUSE heart of the House of Usher,
\nbeating of the heart
\nheart of the House of Usher.<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

Roderick is that you?
\nI could not sleep
\nNor I.
\nListen to the storm!
\nDid you ever hear
\nsuch a dreadful sound?
\nIndeed.
\nIndeed I have!
\nBut this sound you can hear;
\nthe tempest beats upon the House
\nas it would beat upon a drum,
\nthat is no sound to fear.
\nFor the sound to fear
\nIt beats upon the house.
\nwalk softly when they come
\nThe thunder seems so near
\nBut it’s only the But it’s only the
\nbeating of the heart, beating of the heart,
\nheart of the House of Usher. heart of the House of Usher.<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR VOICES OF THE HOUSE<\/p>\n

Oh the lake is Beating of the heart,
\nin frenzy, I heart of the House
\ncan feel the waves of Usher
\nbeat on the walls Beating of the heart
\nThe breaking of the heart! heart of the House
\nThese giant stones of Usher.
\nare trembling Beating of the heart
\nthe savage lashing heart of the House
\nof the storm of Usher.
\nThe breaking of the heart! Beating of the heart
\nheart of the House
\nof Usher
\nWhy is that other sound The House
\nnot hidden by of Usher
\nechoes of the storm? shall stand.
\nThe House
\nBut understand we only of Usher
\nhear the House shall stand
\nSpeaking of a storm The House
\nThis is the storm itself! of Usher
\nshall stand.
\nThe House of Usher
\nThe House of Usher<\/p>\n

MONTRESOR We’ve seen enough, I’ll close the window.
\nThe gale is chill and grows yet stronger.
\nThese walls are shaking!
\nYou shall play something for me;
\nyou shall play and I shall listen.
\nSo we will pass away this dreadful night.<\/p>\n

USHER Yes I shall play,
\nyes, I shall play!<\/p>\n

(The Haunted In the greenest of our valleys
\nPalace) by good angels tenanted
\nonce a fair and stately palace –
\nradiant palace – reared its head.
\nIn the monarch, Thought’s dominion
\nlike a jewel it stood there.
\nNever seraph spread a pinion
\nover fabric half so fair.
\nWanderers in that happy valley
\nthrough two luminous windows saw
\nspirits moving musically
\nto a lute’s well-tuned law,
\nround about a throne where sitting,
\nside by side with his fair queen,
\nin state his glory well befitting,
\nthe ruler of the realm was seen.<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

Wait!
\nDid you hear it?
\nWhat was it?
\nIt’s nothing.
\nWhat was that
\ndistant sound?
\nI say, I heard nothing<\/p>\n

All with pearl and ruby glowing
\nwas the glorious palace door
\nthrough which came flowing, flowing,
\nflowing and sparkling evermore
\na troop of echoes, whose sweet duty
\nnight and day was but to sing
\nin voices of surpassing beauty
\nthe wit and wisdom of their king.<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

No!
\nThere’s something,
\nI heard it
\nquite clear,
\na voice crying.
\nIt’s nothing
\nI say
\nbut the wind!
\nYou heard the wind,
\njust heard Within the House!
\nthe wild wind crying.<\/p>\n

But evil things, in robes of sorrow
\nassailed the monarch’s high estate;
\nlet us mourn for never morrow
\ndawn upon him, desolate;
\nround about his home the glory
\nthat had always blushed and bloomed
\nis but a dim-remembered story
\nof the olden time entombed.<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR<\/p>\n

There!
\nYes, you heard it!
\nThere is someone else –
\nThere’s nothing something else
\nI say, down there!
\nYou hear nothing!
\nThere’s no-one there.
\nIt is the storm Are we
\nthat you hear. alone here?<\/p>\n

Travellers now within that valley
\nthrough red-litten windows see
\nvast forms that move fantastically
\nto a discordant melody
\nwhile like a rapid, ghastly river
\nthrough the ever open door
\na hideous throng rush out forever
\nand laugh – but smile no more!<\/p>\n

And laugh – but smile no more!
\nAnd laugh – but smile no more!<\/p>\n

USHER No! No! No!<\/p>\n

Yes, I hear it! Yes, I have heard it
\nlong, long – many minutes, many hours,
\nbut I dared not speak:
\nI tell you I dared not speak.<\/p>\n

No more cant from you,
\nyou thick-skinned obtuse fool, damn your compassion!
\nFor now I say you will hear the wicked truth
\nWe put her living in the tomb!
\nBut I dared not, I dared not speak!
\nYes, have I not heard her footsteps on the stair?
\nYes, do I not distinguish
\nthe heavy and horrible beating of her heart?
\nYes, she is coming.
\nShe has woken in the darkness,
\nin her mindless, relentless strength.
\nNow she has broken from the tomb.
\nNow she has burst from the tomb.<\/p>\n

Days ago I heard her first feeble movements
\nin the hollow coffin –
\nsaid I not that my senses were acute?
\nI heard the scraping, the scraping of her nails –
\nbut I dared not, I dared not speak!
\nMadman! Madman!
\nI tell you that she now comes towards the door!<\/p>\n

USHER MONTRESOR CHORUS VOICES OF THE HOUSE<\/p>\n

No, what a House
\nMonstrous thought! We
\nNow the punishment breath!
\nis finished. The evil that House
\nYou said is done we are!
\nshe was dead… cannot be We
\nYou watched undone. could not
\nher dying!
\nIt’s over now It’s over now
\nWhat evil have let
\nyou done? It could not
\nbe prevented them go!
\nGod, what a
\nmonstrous thought!
\nIt’s over now It’s over now. We
\nThe evil that
\nWhy must innocence is done could
\nbe punished?
\nCould this have not
\nbeen prevented?
\nIt’s over now It’s over now
\nThe evil that The evil that We
\nis done… is done could not
\ncould not
\nbe prevented let
\ncould this have could never
\nbeen prevented? be prevented
\nthem go!
\nI dare not could this have it could not
\nI dared not speak! been prevented? be prevented!
\nMadman!
\nMadman!
\nI tell you
\nthat she now stands
\noutside the door!<\/p>\n

USHER MADELINE MONTRESOR CHORUS<\/p>\n

I’m looking
\nNow, No,
\nMadeline! Madeline!
\nI have counted
\nto a hundred
\nwith my eyes closed
\nand I’m coming
\nI am the last now to find you… Leave!
\nof the Usher! Depart!
\nmy sister’s death Go!
\nshall leave me so.
\nWhere are you It’s over now
\nhiding?
\nI am If I wasn’t so
\nthe last afraid I’d
\nUsher Roderick touch her Leave!
\nI feel where are you? It’s over now Depart!
\nthe sky I see. Go!
\nNow he sings
\nof death, the evil the evil
\nsome things even that is done that is one
\nI feel madder cannot be cannot be
\nthe sky undone undone
\nmoan shuts himself away the evil the evil
\nto join shuts himself away that is come that is come
\nwith the slime!
\nHe shut could not could not
\nhimself away! be prevented. be prevented.<\/p>\n

AS THE HOUSE FALLS<\/p>\n

THE VOICES beams buttresses plaster copings We We
\nOF THE corbels bressumers quoins chimney- breath are
\nHOUSE joists arches wainscot shafts We rise Usher
\nkin-posts piers stairs parapets
\nridge-ribs spandrels banister pediments
\nstruts columns cusps mansard
\nstanchions cornices gargoyle
\nking-posts eaves<\/p>\n

End of Act Six<\/p>\n

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