The Complete Dramatic Works (18 page)

CLOV:
Then she hasn’t forgotten us.

HAMM:
But you say there is none.

CLOV:
[
Sadly
.]
No one that ever lived ever thought so crooked as we.

HAMM:
We do what we can.

CLOV:
We shouldn’t.

[
Pause
.]

HAMM:
You’re a bit of all right, aren’t you?

CLOV:
A smithereen.

[
Pause
.]

HAMM:
This is slow work. [
Pause
.]
Is it not time for my painkiller?

CLOV:
No. [
Pause.
]
I’ll leave you, I have things to do.

HAMM:
In your kitchen?

CLOV:
Yes.

HAMM:
What, I’d like to know.

CLOV:
I look at the wall.

HAMM:
The wall! And what do you see on your wall? Mene, mene? Naked bodies?

CLOV:
I see my light dying.

HAMM:
Your light dying! Listen to that! Well, it can die just as well here,
your
light. Take a look at me and then come back and tell me what you think of
your
light.

[
Pause
.]

CLOV:
You shouldn’t speak to me like that.

[
Pause
.]

HAMM:
[
Coldly.
]
Forgive me. [
Pause.
Louder.
]
I said, Forgive me.

CLOV:
I heard you.

[
The
lid
of
NAGG
’
s
bin
lifts.
His
hands
appear,
gripping
the
rim.
Then
his
head
emerges.
In
his
mouth
the
biscuit.
He
listens
.]

HAMM:
Did your seeds come up?

CLOV:
No.

HAMM:
Did you scratch round them to see if they had sprouted?

CLOV:
They haven’t sprouted.

HAMM:
Perhaps it’s still too early.

CLOV:
If they were going to sprout they would have sprouted. [
Violently
.]
They’ll never sprout.

[
Pause.
NAGG
takes
biscuit
in
his
hand
.]

HAMM:
This is not much fun. [
Pause
.]
But that’s always the way at the end of the day, isn’t it, Clov?

CLOV:
Always.

HAMM:
It’s the end of the day like any other day, isn’t it, Clov?

CLOV:
Looks like it.

[
Pause
.]

HAMM:
[
Anguished.
]
What’s happening, what’s happening?

CLOV:
Something is taking its course.

[
Pause
.]

HAMM:
All right, be off. [
He
leans
back
in
his
chair,
remains
motionless,
 
CLOV
does
not
move,
heaves
a
great
groaning
sigh.
 
HAMM
sits
up
.] I thought I told you to be off.

CLOV:
I’m trying. [
He
goes
to
door,
halts
.] Ever since I was whelped.

[
Exit
CLOV
.]

HAMM:
We’re getting on.

[
He
leans
back
in
his
chair,
remains
motionless.
NAGG
knocks
on
the
lid
of
the
other
bin.
Pause.
He
knocks
harder.
The
lid
lifts
and
the
hands
of
 
NELL
appear,
gripping
the
rim.
Then
her
head
emerges.
Lace
cap.
Very
white
face.
]

NELL:
What is it, my pet? [
Pause
.]
Time for love?

NAGG:
Were you asleep?

NELL:
Oh no!

NAGG:
Kiss me.

NELL:
We can’t.

NAGG:
Try.

[
Their
heads
strain
towards
each
other,
fail
to
meet,
fall
apart
again.
]

NELL:
Why this farce, day after day?

[
Pause
.]

NAGG:
I’ve lost me tooth.

NELL:
When?

NAGG:
I had it yesterday.

NELL:
[
Elegiac
]
Ah yesterday!

[
They
turn
painfully
towards
each
other
.]

NAGG:
Can you see me?

NELL:
Hardly. And you?

NAGG:
What?

NELL:
Can you see me?

NAGG:
Hardly.

NELL:
So much the better, so much the better.

NAGG:
Don’t say that. [
Pause.
]
Our sight has failed.

NELL:
Yes.

[
Pause.
They
turn
away
from
each
other
.]

NAGG:
Can you hear me?

NELL:
Yes. And you?

NAGG:
Yes. [
Pause
.]
Our hearing hasn’t failed.

NELL:
Our what?

NAGG:
Our hearing.

NELL:
No. [
Pause.
]
Have you anything else to say to me?

NAGG:
Do you remember –

NELL:
No.

NAGG:
When we crashed on our tandem and lost our shanks.

[
They
laugh
heartily
.]

NELL:
It was in the Ardennes.

[
They
laugh
less
heartily
.]

NAGG:
On the road to Sedan. [
They
laugh
still
less
heartily
.] Are you cold?

NELL:
Yes, perished. And you?

NAGG:
I’m freezing. [
Pause
.]
Do you want to go in?

NELL:
Yes.

NAGG:
Then go in. [
NELL
does
not
move
.]
Why don’t you go in?

NELL:
I don’t know.

[
Pause
.]

NAGG:
Has he changed your sawdust?

NELL:
It isn’t sawdust. [
Pause.
Wearily
.] Can you not be a little accurate, Nagg?

NAGG:
Your sand then. It’s not important.

NELL:
It is important.

[
Pause
.]

NAGG:
It was sawdust once.

NELL:
Once!

NAGG:
And now it’s sand. [
Pause
.]
From the shore. [
Pause.
Impatiently
.] Now it’s sand he fetches from the shore.

NELL:
Now it’s sand.

NAGG:
Has he changed yours?

NELL:
No.

NAGG:
Nor mine. [
Pause
.] I won’t have it! [
Pause.
Holding
up
the
biscuit.
] Do you want a bit?

NELL:
No. [
Pause.
]
Of what?

NAGG:
Biscuit. I’ve kept you half. [
He
looks
at
the
biscuit.
Proudly.
]
Three quarters. For you. Here. [
He
proffers
the
biscuit.
]
No? [
Pause.
]
Do you not feel well?

HAMM:
[
Wearily
.]
Quiet, quiet, you’re keeping me awake. [
Pause
.]
Talk softer. [
Pause
.]
If I could sleep I might make love. I’d go into the woods. My eyes would see … the
sky, the earth. I’d run, run, they wouldn’t catch me. [
Pause
.] Nature! [
Pause
.]
There’s something dripping in my head. [
Pause
.]
A heart, a heart in my head.

[
Pause
.]

NAGG:
[
Soft.
]
Do you hear him? A heart in his head!

[
He
chuckles
cautiously.
]

NELL:
One mustn’t laugh at those things, Nagg. Why must you always laugh at them?

NAGG:
Not so loud!

NELL:
[
Without
lowering
her
voice.
]
Nothing is funnier than unhappiness, I grant you that. But –

NAGG:
[
Shocked.
]
Oh!

NELL:
Yes, yes, it’s the most comical thing in the world. And we laugh, we laugh, with
a will, in the beginning. But it’s always the same thing. Yes, it’s like the funny
story we have heard too often, we still find it funny, but we don’t laugh any more.
[
Pause.
]
Have you anything else to say to me?

NAGG:
No.

NELL:
Are you quite sure? [
Pause.
]
Then I’ll leave you.

NAGG:
Do you not want your biscuit? [
Pause.
]
I’ll keep it for you. [
Pause.
]
I thought you were going to leave me.

NELL:
I am going to leave you.

NAGG:
Could you give me a scratch before you go?

NELL:
No. [
Pause.
]
Where?

NAGG:
In the back.

NELL:
No. [
Pause.
]
Rub yourself against the rim.

NAGG:
It’s lower down. In the hollow.

NELL:
What hollow?

NAGG:
The hollow! [
Pause.
]
Could you not? [
Pause.
] Yesterday you scratched me there.

NELL:
[
Elegiac
]
Ah yesterday!

NAGG:
Could you not? [
Pause.
]
Would you like me to scratch you? [
Pause.
]
Are you crying again?

NELL:
I was trying.

[
Pause.
]

HAMM:
Perhaps it’s a little vein.

[
Pause.
]

NAGG:
What was that he said?

NELL:
Perhaps it’s a little vein.

NAGG:
What does that mean? [
Pause.
]
That means nothing. [
Pause.
]
Will I tell you the story of the tailor?

NELL:
No. [
Pause.
]
What for?

NAGG:
To cheer you up.

NELL:
It’s not funny.

NAGG:
It always made you laugh. [
Pause.
]
The first time I thought you’d die.

NELL:
It was on Lake Como. [
Pause.
]
One April afternoon. [
Pause.
]
Can you believe it?

NAGG:
What?

NELL:
That we once went out rowing on Lake Como. [
Pause.
] One April afternoon.

NAGG:
We had got engaged the day before.

NELL:
Engaged!

NAGG:
You were in such fits that we capsized. By rights we should have been drowned.

NELL:
It was because I felt happy.

NAGG:
[
Indignant.
]
It was not, it was not, it was my story and nothing else. Happy! Don’t you laugh
at it still? Every time I tell it. Happy!

NELL:
It was deep, deep. And you could see down to the bottom. So white. So clean.

NAGG:
Let me tell it again. [
Raconteur’s
voice.
] An Englishman, needing a pair of striped trousers in a hurry for the New Year festivities,
goes to his tailor who takes his measurements. [
Tailor’s
voice.
]
‘That’s the lot, come back in four days, I’ll have it ready.’ Good. Four days later.
[
Tailor’s
voice.
] ‘So sorry, come back in a week, I’ve made a mess of the seat.’ Good, that’s all
right, a neat seat can be very ticklish. A week later. [
Tailor’s
voice.
] ‘Frightfully sorry, come back in ten days, I’ve made a hash of the crutch.’ Good,
can’t be helped, a snug crutch is always a teaser. Ten days later. [
Tailor’s
voice.
] ‘Dreadfully sorry, come back in a fortnight, I’ve made a balls of the fly.’ Good,
at a pinch, a smart fly is a stiff proposition. [
Pause.
Normal
voice
]
I never told it worse. [
Pause.
Gloomy
.]
I tell this story worse and worse. [
Pause.
Raconteur’s
voice.
]
Well, to make it short, the bluebells are blowing and he ballockses the buttonholes.
[
Customer’s
voice.
]
‘God damn you to hell, Sir, no, it’s indecent, there are limits! In six days, do
you hear me, six days, God made
the world. Yes Sir, no less Sir, the WORLD! And you are not bloody well capable of
making me a pair of trousers in three months!’ [
Tailor’s
voice,
scandalized.
]
‘But my dear Sir, my dear Sir, look – [
disdainful
gesture,
disgustedly
]
–
at the world – [
pause
]
– and look – [
loving
gesture,
proudly
]
–
at my TROUSERS!’