The Collected Shorter Plays (17 page)
Read The Collected Shorter Plays Online
Authors: Samuel Beckett
OPENER | Good. |
VOICE | —no tiller . . . no thwarts . . . no oars . . . afloat . . . sucked out . . . then back . . . aground . . . drags free . . . out . . . Woburn . . . he fills it . . . flat out . . . face in the bilge . . . arms spread . . . same old coat . . . hands clutching . . . the gunnels . . . no . . . I don’t know . . . I see him . . . he clings on . . . out to sea . . . heading nowhere . . . for the island . . . then no more . . . else— |
MUSIC | . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
OPENER | They said, It’s his own, it’s his voice, it’s in his head. |
VOICE | —faster . . . out . . . driving out . . . rearing . . . plunging . . . heading nowhere . . . for the island . . . then no more . . . elsewhere . . . anywhere . . . heading anywhere . . . lights— |
OPENER | No resemblance. |
MUSIC | [ |
OPENER | . . . is that mine too? |
VOICE | —come on . . . Woburn . . . arms spread . . . same old coat . . . face in the bilge . . . he clings on . . . island gone . . . far astern . . . heading out . . . open sea . . . land gone . . . his head . . . what’s in his head . . . Woburn— |
OPENER | [ |
VOICE | —at last . . . we’re there . . . no further . . . no more searching . . . in the dark . . . elsewhere . . . always elsewhere . . . we’re there . . . nearly . . . Woburn . . . hang on . . . don’t let go . . . lights gone . . . of the land . . . all gone . . . nearly all . . . too far . . . too late . . . of the sky . . . those . . . if you like . . . he need only . . . turn over . . . he’d see them . . . shine on him . . . but no . . . he clings on . . . Woburn . . . he’s changed . . . nearly enough— |
MUSIC | . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
OPENER | [ |
MUSIC | . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
OPENER | God God. |
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right one . . . this time . . . I have it . . . we’re there . . . ......................................................... Woburn . . . nearly— .................... | |
OPENER | [ |
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. . . Woburn . . . it’s him . . . see him . . . say him . . . to the ......................................................... end . . . don’t let go— | |
OPENER | [ |
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more . . . I’m there . . . nearly . . . Woburn . . . it’s him . . . it ......................................................... was him . . . I’ve got him . . . nearly— | |
OPENER | [ |
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finish . . . no more stories . . . sleep . . . we’re there . . . nearly .......................................................... . . just a few more . . . don’t let go . . . Woburn . . . he clings ............................................................ on . . . come on . . . come on— ......................................................... |
Curtain
A play in one act
Front centre, touching one another, three identical grey urns (see page 367) about one yard high. From each a head protrudes, the neck held fast in the urn’s mouth. The heads are those, from left to right as seen from auditorium, of W 2, M and W 1. They face undeviatingly front throughout the play. Faces so lost to age and aspect as to seem almost part of urns. But no masks
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Their speech is provoked by a spotlight projected on faces alone (see page 366).
The transfer of light from one face to another is immediate. No blackout, i.e. return to almost complete darkness of opening, except where indicated
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The response to light is immediate
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Faces impassive throughout. Voices toneless except where an expression is indicated
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Rapid tempo throughout
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The curtain rises on a stage in almost complete darkness. Urns just discernible. Five seconds
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Faint spots simultaneously on three faces. Three seconds. Voices faint, largely unintelligible
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W1 | I said to him, Give her up. I swore by all I held most sacred— |
W2 | One morning as I was sitting stitching by the open window she burst in and flew at me. Give him up, she screamed, he’s mine. Her photographs were kind to her. Seeing her now for the first time full length in the flesh I understood why he preferred me. [ |
M | We were not long together when she smelled the rat. Give up that whore, she said, or I’ll cut my throat—[ |
W2 | What are you talking about? I said, stitching away. Some one yours? Give up whom? I smell you off him, she screamed, he stinks of bitch. |
W1 | Though I had him dogged for months by a first-rate man, no shadow of proof was forthcoming. And there was no denying that he continued as . . . assiduous as ever. This, and his horror of the merely Platonic thing, made me some times wonder if I were not accusing him unjustly. Yes. [ |
M | What have you to complain of? I said. Have I been neglecting you? How could we be together in the way we are if there were someone else? Loving her as I did, with all my heart, I could not but feel sorry for her. |
W2 | Fearing she was about to offer me violence I rang for Erskine and had her shown out. Her parting words, as he could testify, if he is still living, and has not forgotten, coming and going on the earth, letting people in, showing people out, were to the effect that she would settle my hash. I confess this did alarm me a little, at the time. |
M | She was not convinced. I might have known. I smell her off you, she kept saying. There was no answer to this. So I took her in my arms and swore I could not live without her. I meant it, what is more. Yes, I am sure I did. She did not repulse me. |
W1 | Judge then of my astonishment when one fine morning, as I was sitting stricken in the morning room, he slunk in, fell on his knees before me, buried his face in my lap and . . . confessed. |
M | She put a bloodhound on me, but I had a little chat with him. He was glad of the extra money. |
W2 | Why don’t you get out, I said, when he started moaning about his home life, there is obviously nothing between you any more. Or is there? |
W1 | I confess my first feeling was one of wonderment. What a male! |
W2 | Anything between us, he said, what do you take me for, a something machine? And of course with him no danger of the . . . spiritual thing. Then why don’t you get out? I said. I sometimes wondered if he was not living with her for her money. |
M | The next thing was the scene between them. I can’t have her crashing in here, she said, threatening to take my life. I must have looked incredulous. Ask Erskine, she said, if you don’t believe me. But she threatens to take her own, I said. Not yours? she said. No, I said, hers. We had fun trying to work this out. |
W1 | Then I forgave him. To what will love not stoop! I suggested a little jaunt to celebrate, to the Riviera or our darling Grand Canary. He was looking pale. Peaked. But this was not possible just then. Professional commitments. |
W2 | She came again. Just strolled in. All honey. Licking her lips. Poor thing. I was doing my nails, by the open window. He has told me all about it, she said. Who he, I said filing away, and what it? I know what torture you must be going through, she said, and I have dropped in to say I bear you no ill-feeling. I rang for Erskine. |
M | Then I got frightened and made a clean breast of it. She was looking more and more desperate. She had a razor in her vanity-bag. Adulterers, take warning, never admit. |
W1 | When I was satisfied it was all over I went to have a gloat. Just a common tart. What he could have found in her when he had me— |
W2 | When he came again we had it out. I felt like death. He went on about why he had to tell her. Too risky and so on. That meant he had gone back to her. Back to that! |
W1 | Pudding face, puffy, spots, blubber mouth, jowls, no neck, dugs you could— [ |
W2 | He went on and on. I could hear a mower. An old hand mower. I stopped him and said that whatever I might feel I had no silly threats to offer—but not much stomach for her leavings either. He thought that over for a bit. [ |
W1 | Calves like a flunkey— |
M | When I saw her again she knew. She was looking—[ |
W2 | The only solution was to go away together. He swore we should as soon as he had put his affairs in order. In the meantime we were to carry on as before. By that he meant as best we could. |
W1 | So he was mine again. All mine. I was happy again. I went about singing. The world— |
M | At home all heart to heart, new leaf and bygones bygones. I ran into your ex-doxy, she said one night, on the pillow, you’re well out of that. Rather uncalled for, I thought. I am indeed, sweetheart, I said, I am indeed. God what vermin women. Thanks to you, angel, I said. |
W1 | Then I began to smell her off him again. Yes. |
W2 | When he stopped coming I was prepared. More or less. |
M | Finally it was all too much. I simply could no longer— |
W1 | Before I could do anything he disappeared. That meant she had won. That slut! I couldn’t credit it. I lay stricken for weeks. Then I drove over to her place. It was all bolted and barred. All grey with frozen dew. On the way back by Ash and Snodland— [ |
M | I simply could no longer— |
W2 | I made a bundle of his things and burnt them. It was November and the bonfire was going. All night I smelt them smouldering. |
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M | When first this change I actually thanked God. I thought, It is done, it is said, now all is going out— |
W1 | Mercy, mercy, tongue still hanging out for mercy. It will come. You haven’t seen me. But you will. Then it will come. |
W2 | To say I am not disappointed, no, I am. I had anticipated something better. More restful. |
W1 | Or you will weary of me. |
M | Down, all going down, into the dark, peace is coming, I thought, after all, at last, I was right, after all, thank God, when first this change. |
W2 | Less confused. Less confusing. At the same time I prefer this to . . . the other thing. Definitely. There are endurable moments. |
M | I thought. |
W2 | When you go out—and I go out. Some day you will tire of me and go out . . . for good. |
W1 | Hellish half-light. |
M | Peace, yes, I suppose, a kind of peace, and all that pain as if . . . never been. |
W2 | Give me up, as a bad job. Go away and start poking and pecking at someone else. On the other hand— |
W1 | Get off me! Get off me! |
