(Music—a little bit like Yankee Doodle.)

New Messiah: (Accompanied by two Reporters.)

First Reporter: (To the tune of Yankee Doodle.)
Now, we’re bringing you a Big Shot,
Bringing joy to one and all.
Soon—hooray—we will be dancing
All around the Golden Bull.

All:

Oh happy bull! Oh happy day.
Whoopee! Happy! Yippie!
Long live every Zionist!
Now that’s good for business!

Messiah: (To Charlie.) And with whom do I have the honor? S’il vous plait. Reden Sie? . . . Sprechen Sie? . . . Beloshn ivris? . . . Yesh li—

[...]

Charlie: I’m just Charlie. That guy’s the boss.

Messiah: The Gentlemen of the Press, if you please, have told me you’re looking for a Messiah. Is that true?

Zip: It’s true.

Messiah: True? Yes? (Motions to the Reporters.) These are my agents. Five percent commission if the deal goes through, bitte sehr, s’il vous plait. Proszę pana. Bvakoshosa.

Zip: Sit, gentlemen.

Both Reporters: We’re sitting already. Just so we sit. We’re already seated.

First Reporter: My name is Ab—ra—ham.

Both Reporters: Abe, Abe,
Ham—Ham—Ham.
Abraham.

Second Reporter: And I’m called Moyshe.
Moy, Moy, Moy,
Sheh—Sheh—Sheh.
Moyshe.

Messiah: I think that all the same, for my part, I require no introductions. I am Dr. — (Tries to show his calling card.)

Zip: I know. I know.

Messiah: I am a great idealist.

Zip: (With a sigh.) We know that, too.

Charlie: (Also with a sigh.) We know.

Both Reporters:
He is a great idealist
But makes a buck—he can’t resist.

Messiah: I am, good sir, a martyr, just like Captain Dreyfus.

Both Reporters:

Drey, Drey, Drey,
Fus—Fus—Fus.
Just like Dreyfus.

Messiah: Or like Mendel Beilis. Wissen Sie?

Both Reporters:

Bei, Bei, Bei,
Li. Li. Li.
Es. Es. Es.
Mendel Beilis.

Messiah: (To them.) So, widzi pan. I have a wife and two children and the children, wissen Sie, need to eat well and drink well and sleep well and have good minders. My wife likes to wear the best Parisian clothes, travel to the hot springs, play preferans, roulette, pinochle. (Pause.) My daughter, proszę pana, needs a good horse to go riding in the Bois-de-Boulogne, wissen Sie! So be it. Nichts zu machen. It can’t be helped.

Both Reporters:

Can’t, Can’t, Can’t,
Be. Be. Be.
Can’t be helped.

Messiah: (To them.) What’s more, widzi pan, I’ve got a girl suing me for thirty thousand dollars damages. I supposedly stole her honor. So she says. (Sarcastically) Her honor!

Both Reporters:

Aw, Aw, Aw,
Ner—Ner—Ner.
Stole her honor.

Zip: So, in short?

Charlie: Altogether?

Messiah: It’s very simple, widzi pan. I want 260 a week for redemption, good sir. Don’t forget that I’m an idealist. Martyrs and idealists are in short supply in America. Widzi pan, America is the land of materialism.

Both Reporters:

Ma, Ma, Ma,
Ter—Ter—Ter.
Materialism.

(From here on, it goes quicker, almost chanted or sung.)

Zip: I’ll give you 110. (He stands up and quickly sits back down.)

Messiah: (Likewise.) I won’t take 110.

Reporters: (Also likewise.)

He won’t take 110.
110 he won’t take.

Zip: I’ll give 115.

Messiah: I won’t take 115.

Reporters:
He won’t take 115.
115 he just won’t take.

Zip: I’ll give 125.

Messiah: No.

Zip: 150. And not one cent more.

Messiah: Wie Sie wollen! That’s your business. N’est-ce pas? I will not redeem the People of Israel from exile for less than 200 dollars a week. Don’t forget what an ancient people they are. And what a stubborn one. It’s no joke, redeeming a people like that. And besides, there’s expenses—gas for my motorcycle. Surely you don’t expect a modern Messiah to come riding on an ass. (German.) Das wäre ja scheußlich, and what if the donkey did something? Well! What a mess! N’est-ce pas? Of course!

Reporters: Here’s our compromise offer. 175 dollars a week and gasoline.

Zip: Fine. It’s a deal. But you supply the motorcycle. Bring your motorcycle here. Let’s see it works.

Messiah: Oh, that’s rich! My own motorcycle? What am I, a Rockefeller? I have my own oil well? I want two hundred dollars a week and a motorcycle.

Zip: A stubborn guy. (Whispers with Charlie.) Well, alright. It’s a deal. What can you do? I’ll give you my own motorcycle. It’s a little bit used, but perfectly good.

Messiah: (Hesitates.) There’s still the question of whether your motorcycle is in good working order.

Zip: What? You don’t believe me? You don’t believe Zipkin? That’s lovely. (To Charlie.) Get the motorcycle. Let him see for himself. (Near the doorstep. Tries the bike. It works. Makes a clamour)

Charlie: If we’re agreed, then let’s drink a toast. (Brings liquor. They drink.)

Zip: L’chaim! With God’s help, good business.

Messiah: (Sung.) Mead is mead and schnapps is schnapps.

Reporters: So kick up your heels and give a hop.

Messiah: Give a kick with your feet, spin your head this-a-way

All: And let’s all shout: Hip Hip Hooray!

Messiah: Alright then I’ll try out the motorcycle myself. Watch out. Out of the way. (Exits.)

Reporters:

Ever onwards with the news
Telling tales about the Jews.
Helter-skelter we scurry about
Trying to get a newspaper out.
Hooray. Hooray. Hooray.

All: In the paper today.

Reporters: For we’re just cronies

All: At the bridegroom’s party.

Zip: Now we’ve got it! We’ll show him, our little Menachem, how to bring a Messiah. Call that a Messiah? We’ll show him a Messiah. And a modern Messiah, no less. And for women, no less. And on a motorcycle, no less, at seventy miles an hour.