Jöns, squire: Farewell, my sweet. I could have raped you, but I've grown tired of that kind of love. It's a little dull in the end.
Jöns, squire: My master and I just returned from abroad. You understand, my little painter?
Albertus Pictor, Church Painter: The Crusades?
Jöns, squire: Precisely. Ten years in the Holy Land, bitten by snakes and flies, slaughtered by savages, poisoned by bad wine, infested with lice by women, rotting with fever, all for the glory
of God.
Albertus Pictor, Church Painter: For the glory of God.
Antonius Block: There's so much to worry people.
Mia: It's better to be two. Have you no one?
Antonius Block: I had once.
Mia: And now?
Antonius Block: I don't know.
Mia: So solemn! Was she your beloved?
Antonius Block: We were newly
married. We played and laughed. I wrote songs to her eyes, to her nose, and to her beautiful little ears. We hunted and danced. The house was full of life.
Mia: One day is like another. There's nothing strange about that. Summer is better than Winter, of course, because you aren't cold. But, Spring is best of all.
Jof: I wrote a song about Spring. Would you like to hear it?
Mia: Not now, Jof. Our guests may not care for your songs.
Jöns, squire: By all means. I
write songs myself.
Jof: You see?
Jöns, squire: I know one about a wanton fish I'm sure you've never heard.
Jonas Skat: It's the filthy Smith who insulted my beloved lady, the fair Kunigunda.
Blacksmith Plog: What did you call her?
Lisa, blacksmith's wife: Kunigunda. Are you deaf?
Jöns, squire: Kunigunda.
Blacksmith Plog: Her name is Lisa. Strumpet Lisa. Rumpy, smutty, slutty Lisa.
Lisa, blacksmith's wife: How coarse he is.
Blacksmith Plog: Go find your own trash, you gilded pimp!
Lisa, blacksmith's wife: What a brute!
Jonas Skat: You scabby bastard of seven scurvy bitches, if I were in your lousy rags, I'd be so ashamed of everything about my person that I would immediately rid nature
of my own embarrassing self.