The Seventh Seal
The Seventh Seal

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.

The Seventh Seal
The Seventh Seal

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.

The Seventh Seal
The Seventh Seal

Jof: Where are we to perform?
Jonas Skat: The saints' feast in Elsinore. Right on the church steps.
Jof: Why not something bawdy? People prefer it, and it's more fun.

The Seventh Seal
The Seventh Seal

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.

The Seventh Seal
The Seventh Seal

Jöns, squire: God in heaven, if it isn't Plog the Smith. Are you sitting here crying all alone?
Blacksmith Plog: Yes., look at the Smith, moaning like a rabbit drowning in piss.

The Seventh Seal
The Seventh Seal

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.

The Seventh Seal
The Seventh Seal

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.