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Molloy
Samuel Beckett
1906-1989
Beckett is better known for his plays than for his novels, but
his novels are the greater achievement. They are the funniest
prose alive. Molioy, written initially in French, then
translated into English by Beckett and Patrick Bowles, is the
first novel in the trilogy finished off by Malone Dies and The
Unnamable. Although they complete the trilogy, these two later
novels proved inadequate to the job of putting an end to the
decline begun in Molloy, which extends into everything that
Beckett would go on to write.
Beckett is the great master of every possible shade of decline
and its unrivalled comedian. Molloy is probably the funniest of
all his writing. lt is made up of two stories, each the
doppelganger of the other. In the first, the wretched cripple
Molloy stumbles through a lost thread of episodes peopled by his
insensible mother, a litter of comic citizens, a policeman, and
a grotesque feminine captor named Lousse, before ending up
dumped by Beckett in a ditch. His place is then surrendered to
Moran, whom Beckett dispatches, together with his son, on a
quest to find his predecessor, a quest that Moran pursues with
furious inertia only to find that Beckett has declined to
contrive a meeting between them. He trudges home to find his
bees turned to ash.
Beckett nails all the perks of fiction (all the events,
sympathies, and glitter of fiction's "real life") into their
smorgasbord and buries it. His stories are all the confessions
of a syntax addict whose phantom fix is total disagreement with
himself.
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Malone Dies
Samuel Beckett
1906-1989
For those readers who easily tire of colorful fiction, Malone
Dies will be as revitalizing as anything in the language.
Following the departure of Molloy, .Malone Dies is Beckett's
attempt to winnow down still more violently the nib of his
fiction. The stories are what the language uses to get away from
itself, and they are ah going nowhere. Early on in Malone Dies
we are spoon-fed the story of the sorrows of young Sapo Saposcat,
a fake and abortive bildungsroman in a suite of ludicrously
colorless episodes so boring that even Beckett cannot bring
himself to keep up his ventriloquism of it. Later he tries his
hand at a love story, where the protagonists manage at great
effort and discomfort to act out what are surely the most
repulsive sex scenes in any comedy.
When the language of Malone Dies begins to resemble a novel, it
is always faking it. As each consecutive excuse for a story is
dumped, we are dragged back into the scene of syntax addiction
and the parody of mystification over life and death, endlessly
knocked on the head by casual remarks such as "ideas are so
alike, when you get to know them," and endlessly restarted. So
it goes until the brutal finish of the book, in which Beckett is
perhaps more nearly terrified than anywhere else in his fiction
by the corner he has crushed himself into and by his failure to
lose control of language even in that corner. The fundamental
horror and optimism of Beckett are that true claustrophobia is
possible only in paradise.
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Watt
Samuel Beckett
1906-1989
This novel represents an essential stage in the development of
Beckett's fiction. As Watt progresses, it literally unravels and
collapses. The recognizably linear comic opening is easily
identifiable with the Joycean style that characterized the
preceding Murphy. It becomes increasingly fragmented, however,
as the formal, temporal, and syntactical structures break down;
the "Beckettian" world of his later work begins to take hold.
In the opening chapter, we encounter the titular character, who
meets a number of misfortunes in the shape of a porter pushing a
milk can and an irate lady who pelts him with a stone. Watt
rests in a ditch before continuing his journey to the house of
Mr. Knott, his subsequent employer and the center of the novel's
impending collapse. Upon reaching his destination, Watt takes
his position as the first-floor servant, gradually progressing
up the floors, and closer to Mr. Knott. Knott himself is a
mystery, less a character than a presence, a singularity, and it
is under his service that Watt's obsession with exhaustive
logic, the source of the novel's formal fragmentation,
increasingly takes control. The role of multiple unreliable
narrators assumes a central importance heir for the first time
in Beckett's work, as do the great formal innovations,
particularly in terms of temporal structure. Watt is essential
reading for the spectacle of a writer developing his style on
the page and for a demonstration of the strict order and Intent
that underpin Beckett's chaos.
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The Unnamable
Samuel Beckett
1906-1989
The Unnamable marks the conclusion of Beckett's drive toward the
reduction of the novel form begun in Watt, and it is only
logical that a move away from prose writing into drama
immediately follows.This is the third part of the trilogy that
begins with Molloy's haunted detective story and progresses
through the deathbed hallucinations of Malone Dies. In The
Unnamable, Beckett attempts formally to address a question he
has been skirting around in his previous work; what is left of a
novel once the story, characters, fictional space,and narrator
have been removed?
The first notable quality of The Unnamable is the way it makes
such indispensable use of its status as the third part of a
trilogy. The end of the preceding novel, Malone Dies, begins to
falter and die along with its narrator, spluttering and
collapsing in a series of logical and syntactical breakdowns.
Finally it is silent, and a turn of the page leads to all that
is left of the novel—the disembodied voice in the darkness,
"where now, who now." This voice is the voice of the unnamable,
the "voice" of the novel, a ghost of sorts, exposed with no
world to inhabit, no characters to speak through, and no events
to describe, so speaking only of itself. In The Unnamable
Beckett seems at last to have reached the core, speaking of the
succession of previous Beckett characters as one and the same.
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How It Is
Samuel Beckett
1906-1989
Following the Second World War, nothing occupied Beckett so much
as the idea that his writing should be as difficult to imagine
and to desire as it possibly could be. There is nothing in the
English language comparable with How It Is, a novel that both
ends and cannot ever end itself with every sentence. It ends not
only itself, but also the whole tradition of the novel conceived
from the nineteenth century onward, as a grand historical effort
to bring literature up to date with the infinite detail of
social and moral existence. Detail is erased and replaced by an
exhausting round of repetitions and automatic verbal reflexes,
uttered by a body barely crawling through mud, listing the
contents of a sack, straining to contrive even the outline of a
story or remembrance as if empty and straining to defecate.
Beckett ejects from his last full-length novel even the
caricature of linear narration that sustained him through The
Unnamable, sinking instead into a prose so unsustainable and so
much like pathological or obsessive utterance that it barely
allows the composition of a paragraph. We now receive only the
poltergeist of grammar, only the leveled succession of clauses
without punctuation, none and all of which are subordinate
clauses.There is the shadow, or recollection, of a plot,
flickering through the language. But read this book for what it
does to how language is and to how we are in consequence. In its
most suspended animation, Beckett's prose turns into poetry.
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WAITING FOR GODOT
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Type of work: Drama
Author: Samuel Beckett (1906- )
Type of plot: Tragicomedy
Time of plot: The present
Locale: A country road
First presented: 1952
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In this comedy of the absurd, antic yet philosophically troubling,
Beckett views the human condition through symbolism that has its roots
in Freudian psychology, the Christian myth, and Existentialism. The two
tramps vacillate between hope and despair; they are obsessed by
uncertainty and dominated by the absurd.
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Principal Characters
Vladimir (Didi) (vla-de-meV; de-de') and Estragon (Gogo) (Ss-tra-gon';
go-go'), two tramps. In this play action is unimportant; the characters
remain undeveloped as the tramps wait impatiently for Godot, who remains
a mysterious entity, possibly a local land owner but also a symbol of
man's spiritual seeking. They gnaw carrots, rest their tired feet, and
engage in other simple activities while their conversations reveal the
helplessness of their situation. Throughout the play there is every
suggestion that the two live estranged from a state of grace which is
hoped for but never realized. Often considering suicide, they are caught
in a calm of inactivity between hope and despair in their longing for
salvation, which is linked somehow with Godot. When the play ends, the
two are still waiting for the promised appearance of Godot.
Pozzo (рб-zo'), a materialist. A rich, boisterous tyrant, he is
obviously an expounder of Neitzschean doctrines and materialistic
concepts. Pozzo admits that Lucky has taught him all the beautiful
things he knows, but now his servant has become unbearable and is
driving him mad. At first he drives his servant with a rope; however,
when he reappears, blinded in symbolic fashion by his own worldly
successes and romantic pessimism, he must be led by his mute servant.
Lucky (lti-кё'), Pozzo's servant. Born a peasant, he gives the
impression of a new proletarian, the symbol of modern man's belief in
the promises and miracles of science. Lucky first appears driven by
Pozzo at the end of a rope. Ordered to think for the group, he delivers
the wildest, most brilliantly sustained monologue of the play. When he
next appears, he is leading the blind Pozzo, but he is mute.
A Boy, a messenger from Godot.
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The Story
Estragon tried to take off his boot but failed. Vladimir agreed with him
that it sometimes appeared that there was nothing one could do. They
were glad to be reunited after a night apart. With Vladimir's help,
Estragon succeeded in removing his painful boot. Vladimir, also in pain,
could not laugh in comfort; he tried smiling instead but it was not
satisfactory.
Vladimir mused on the one gospel account that said Christ saved one of
the thieves. Estragon wanted to leave. They could not leave because they
were waiting for Godot. They became confused about the arrangements and
wondered if they were waiting at the right time, in the right place, and
on the right day. They quarreled briefly but were, as always,
reconciled.
They considered hanging themselves but decided that it would be safer to
do nothing until they heard what Godot said. They did not know what they
had asked Godot for. They concluded they had foregone their rights.
Vladimir gave Estragon a carrot, which he ate hungrily. They decided
that although they were not bound to Godot, they were in fact unable to
act.
Pozzo entered, driving Lucky, who was laden with luggage fastened by a
rope around his neck. Estragon and Vladimir mistook him for Godot but
accepted him as Pozzo. Although he attempted to intimidate them, he was
glad of their company. After ordering Lucky to bring him his stool and
his coat, he gave Lucky the whip. Lucky obeyed automatically. Vladimir
and Estragon protested violently against Pozzo's treatment of Lucky.
Pozzo deflected their outburst and the subject was dropped.
After smoking a pipe, Pozzo rose. He then decided he did not want to
leave, but his pride almost prevented him from reseating himself. The
tramps wanted to know why Lucky never put down the luggage. Pozzo said
that Lucky was trying to make him keep the fellow. When Pozzo added that
he would sell Lucky rather than throw him out, Lucky wept; but when
Estragon tried to dry his tears, Lucky kicked him away. Then Estragon
wept. Pozzo philosophized on this and said that Lucky had taught him all
the beautiful things he knew, but that the fellow had now become
unbearable and was driving Pozzo mad. Estragon and Vladimir then abused
Lucky for mistreating his master.
Pozzo broke into a monologue on the twilight, alternating between the
lyrical and the commonplace and ending with the bitter thought that
everything happened in the world when one was least prepared. He decided
to reward Estragon and Vladimir for praising him by making Lucky
entertain them. Lucky executed a feeble dance which Estragon mocked but
failed to imitate.
Estragon stated that there had been no arrivals, no departures, and no
action, and that everything was terrible. Pozzo next decided that Lucky
should think for them. For this Vladimir replaced Lucky's derby hat.
Lucky's thought was an incoherent flood of words which resembled a
dissertation on the possible goodness of God, the tortures of hell fire,
the prevalence of sport, and the vacuity of suburbs. He desperately
upset his listeners, who attacked him and silenced him by seizing his
hat. Having restored Lucky to his position as carrier, Pozzo and the
tramps said many farewells before he and Lucky finally left.
The Boy called to Vladimir and Estragon. He came with a message from
Godot, who would come the next evening. The Boy, a goatherd, said that
Godot was kind to him, but that he beat his brother, a shepherd.
Vladimir asked the Boy to tell Godot only that he had seen them.
By the time the Boy left, night had fallen. Estragon decided to abandon
his boots to someone else. Vladimir protested and Estragon said that
Christ had gone barefoot. Once again they considered and rejected the
idea of separating. They decided to leave for the night. They stayed
where they were.
The following evening the boots were still there and the tree had grown
some leaves. The tramps had spent the night separately. Vladimir
returned first. When Estragon came back he said he had been beaten
again, and Vladimir felt that he could have prevented such cruelty.
Vladimir began to talk of the previous day, but Estragon could remember
nothing but being kicked. Then they were overwhelmed by the thought of
the whispering voices of the dead around them. They tried to break their
silence but succeeded only in part. By a great effort Estragon recalled
that the previous day had been spent chattering inanities. He reflected
that they had spent fifty years doing no more than that.
They discovered that the boots left behind by Estragon had been
exchanged for another old pair. After finding Lucky's hat, which assured
them that they had returned to the right place, they started a wild
exchange of the three hats, shifting them from hand to hand. Finally
Vladimir kept Lucky's hat and Estragon kept his own.
Once more Estragon decided to leave. To distract him, Vladimir suggested
that they "play" Pozzo and Lucky. Puzzled, Estragon left, but he
returned almost immediately because some people were coming. Vladimir
was jubilant, convinced that Godot was arriving. They tried to hide, but
there was nowhere for them to go. Finally Lucky entered with Pozzo, who
was not blind. Lucky fell and dragged Pozzo with him. Pozzo cried for
help. Vladimir passionately wished to act while there was the
opportunity—to do one good thing as a member of the human race, a
species that appalled him. Pozzo was terrified, and Vladimir also fell
in his attempts to raise him. Estragon fell too while trying to lift
Vladimir. As they fought and argued on the ground, they called Pozzo
"Cain* and "Abel." When he responded to both names they concluded that
he was all humanity. Suddenly they got up without difficulty.
Pozzo prepared to leave, but Vladimir wanted Lucky to sing first. Pozzo
explained that Lucky was dumb. They wanted to know when he had been
afflicted. Angry, Pozzo said that all their lives were merely momentary
and time did not matter. He left with Lucky.
While Estragon slept, the Boy entered to say that Godot would come, not
that night but the next. The message for Godot was that the Boy had seen
Vladimir. The Boy left and Estragon awoke. He immediately wanted to
leave. Vladimir insisted that they could not go far because they must
return the next night in order to wait for Godot, who would punish them
if they did not wait.
Estragon and Vladimir remarked that only the tree in the landscape was
alive and considered hanging themselves again. Instead, they decided
that if Godot did not come to save them the next night, they would hang
themselves. At last the tramps decided to go. They remained immobile.
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Critical Evaluation
Waiting for Godot (En Attendant Godot) is a landmark in modern drama.
When it premiered in Paris, its originality stunned audiences; no one
had seen or heard anything like it before. Initially, some were
disgusted; some were puzzled; and some were wildly enthusiastic. Within
a short time, audiences came to the theater prepared for a wholly new
dramatic experience and went away with praises for the enigmatic Samuel
Beckett. The play ran for more than three hundred performances in Paris,
other productions were mounted in London and major cities on the
Continent, and it was widely translated and performed around the world.
After a disastrous United States premiere in Miami, Waiting for Godot
went on to a successful New York run, suggesting that the play was best
received by an audience of sophisticated intellectuals.
Nevertheless, audience enthusiasm has not been matched by unalloyed
critical acclaim. To be sure, many critics as well as eminent
playwrights have paid high tribute to the play, but other critics, like
some members of the first-night audience in Paris, have been repelled or
baffled by Waiting for Godot, their reactions most often stemming from a
misunderstanding of the play. In order to avert such misunderstanding,
it is necessary to examine two crucial aspects of the play: its language
and its philosophical orientation.
First, the language of the play is intimately connected to Beckett's own
background in language studies and literary influences. Beckett was born
in Dublin, Ireland, and took his A.B. degree in French and Italian at
Trinity College. After teaching English in Paris for two years, he
returned to Trinity to teach and complete his M.A. in French. Next, he
traveled in England and on the Continent, and he wrote poems, short
stories, and novels—in English. He at last settled permanently in Paris,
except for a brief hiatus during World War II, and began writing in
French in the late 1940s.
Of equal importance, during Beckett's first sojourn in Paris
(1928-1930), was his meeting with James Joyce, a meeting which launched
a long and mutually satisfying friendship between the two Irish
expatriates and language experts. The influence of Joyce on Beckett's
work is evident in the wordplay in Waiting for Godot, for puns,
allusions, and linguistic "tricks" abound.
Great effort has been expended, for instance, in trying to decipher the
word "Godot," as character and as concept. Beckett himself has declined
to explain, but critics, undeterred, continue to speculate. The most
common view sees Godot as God with the "-ot" as a diminutive suffix. The
French title En Attendant Godot seems to lend support to this
interpretation. Another suggestion is the analogy between Godot and
Chariot (both utilizing the diminutive suffix), the latter an
affectionate nickname for the Charlie Chaplin character in a derby hat,
the kind of hat which plays a significant part in the stage business of
Waiting for Godot. Some readings inevitably deteriorate into the
preposterous—that Godot represents De Gaulle, for example. B^it the most
likely explanation involves an allusion to a highly obscure source:
Honore de Balzac's comedy, Le Faisseur (also known as Mer-cadet).
Balzac's play revolves around a character—named Godeau—who strongly
influences the action of the play but who never appears on stage. The
parallels between the Balzac work and Waiting for Godot are too close to
attribute to mere coincidence, for Beckett, like Joyce, has a marked
fondness for the esoteric literary allusion. It is possible, of course,
to circumvent these literary contortions and simply view Godot as the
objectification of a state of being: the waiting, bracketed by birth and
death, which we call life.
In addition, Beckett plays other word games in Waiting for Godot.
Estragon, for instance, begins a sentence which Vladimir then finishes.
Yet the overwhelming monotony of the dialogue, reflecting the monotony
in the characters' lives, is reminiscent of the exercise drills in old
language texts of the "La plume de ma tante est sur la table" variety,
further suggesting the debasement of language and the consequent
breakdown of communication. (This point is a major preoccupation of
another modern playwright, Eugene Ionesco.) And the non sequiturs which
emerge from rapid-fire exchanges in the dialogue echo the music-hall
comedians in the heyday of vaudeville. Thus Beckett's penchant for
wordplay reveals the influence of his language training, of his friend
James Joyce, and of his conviction that language in the modern world is
both necessary and impotent.
The philosophical orientation of Waiting for Godot is another matter,
however, for the years of Beckett's residence in France coincided with a
period of great ferment in Existential philosophy, most of it centered
in Paris. Beckett is not a formal or doctrinaire Existentialist, but he
could hardly avoid being affected by Existentialism, for such ideas were
part of his cultural milieu. There is no systematically Existential
point of view in Waiting for Godot—as there is in, say, the plays of
Jean-Paul Sartre and the novels of Albert Camus. Yet a generally
Existential view of the human condition comes through very clearly in
the play. Vladimir and Estragon, Lucky and Pozzo are psychically
isolated from one another; despite physical proximity, they are
alienated and lonely, as indicated by their failure to communicate
meaningfully. And in that state of mind, each despairs, feeling helpless
in the face of an immutable destiny. But, unlike the formal
Existentialists, Estragon and Vladimir hope, and it is that hope which
sustains them through their monotonous and immobile existence. Thus,
they wait. They wait for Godot, who will surely bring them words of
comfort and advice, and who will intervene to alter their destinies. By
maintaining this hope, by waiting for Godot to come, Vladimir and
Estragon elude the inevitable Existential logic which postulates
hopelessness followed by a sense of futility, reducing humankind to
absurdity. In this way, Vladimir and Estragon attain truly heroic
proportions; they endure.
Beckett's play has been criticized, even by Estragon, because, as the
tramp puts it, "Nothing happens." In fact, a great deal does
happen—there is a lot of action, much coming and going. However, action
in this sense is quite superficial, for all of it is meaningless. Yet
that very action assumes a rhythm and a pattern which constitute the
structure of the play. The repetitious movements and dialogue reinforce
the quasi-Existential theme of the play: that life is a meaningless and
monotonous performance of endlessly repeated routine. The pattern
established in the first act is recapitulated in the second act, with
only slight variation. Obviously the action in Waiting for Godot is not
the action of conventional drama, but it is this unique fusion of theme
and structure which accounts for the startling originality of the play
and which rightly earns Beckett a place as one of the few genuine
innovators in modern drama.
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"Waiting for Godot"
tragicomedy in 2 acts
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ESTRAGON
VLADIMIR
LUCKY
POZZO
a boy
ACT
I
A country road. A tree.
Evening.
Estragon, sitting on a low mound, is trying to take
off his boot. He pulls at it with both hands,
panting.
Image from timil.com
He gives up, exhausted, rests, tries again.
As before.
Enter Vladimir.
ESTRAGON:
(giving up again). Nothing to be done.
VLADIMIR:
(advancing with short, stiff strides, legs wide
apart). I'm beginning to come round to that opinion.
All my life I've tried to put it from me, saying
Vladimir, be reasonable, you haven't yet tried
everything. And I resumed the struggle. (He broods,
musing on the struggle. Turning to Estragon.) So
there you are again.
ESTRAGON:
Am I?
VLADIMIR:
I'm glad to see you back. I thought you were gone
forever.
ESTRAGON:
Me too.
VLADIMIR:
Together again at last! We'll have to celebrate
this. But how? (He reflects.) Get up till I embrace
you.
ESTRAGON:
(irritably). Not now, not now.
VLADIMIR:
(hurt, coldly). May one inquire where His Highness
spent the night?
ESTRAGON:
In a ditch.
VLADIMIR:
(admiringly). A ditch! Where?
ESTRAGON:
(without gesture). Over there.
VLADIMIR:
And they didn't beat you?
ESTRAGON:
Beat me? Certainly they beat me.
VLADIMIR:
The same lot as usual?
ESTRAGON:
The same? I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
When I think of it . . . all these years . . . but
for me . . . where would you be . . . (Decisively.)
You'd be nothing more than a little heap of bones at
the present minute, no doubt about it.
ESTRAGON:
And what of it?
VLADIMIR:
(gloomily). It's too much for one man. (Pause.
Cheerfully.) On the other hand what's the good of
losing heart now, that's what I say. We should have
thought of it a million years ago, in the nineties.
ESTRAGON:
Ah stop blathering and help me off with this bloody
thing.
VLADIMIR:
Hand in hand from the top of the Eiffel Tower, among
the first. We were respectable in those days. Now
it's too late. They wouldn't even let us up.
(Estragon tears at his boot.) What are you doing?
ESTRAGON:
Taking off my boot. Did that never happen to you?
VLADIMIR:
Boots must be taken off every day, I'm tired telling
you that. Why don't you listen to me?
ESTRAGON:
(feebly). Help me!
VLADIMIR:
It hurts?
ESTRAGON:
(angrily). Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!
VLADIMIR:
(angrily). No one ever suffers but you. I don't
count. I'd like to hear what you'd say if you had
what I have.
ESTRAGON:
It hurts?
VLADIMIR:
(angrily). Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!
ESTRAGON:
(pointing). You might button it all the same.
VLADIMIR:
(stooping). True. (He buttons his fly.) Never
neglect the little things of life.
ESTRAGON:
What do you expect, you always wait till the last
moment.
VLADIMIR:
(musingly). The last moment . . . (He meditates.)
Hope deferred maketh the something sick, who said
that?
ESTRAGON:
Why don't you help me?
VLADIMIR:
Sometimes I feel it coming all the same. Then I go
all queer. (He takes off his hat, peers inside it,
feels about inside it, shakes it, puts it on again.)
How shall I say? Relieved and at the same time . . .
(he searches for the word) . . . appalled. (With
emphasis.) AP-PALLED. (He takes off his hat again,
peers inside it.) Funny. (He knocks on the crown as
though to dislodge a foreign body, peers into it
again, puts it on again.) Nothing to be done.
(Estragon with a supreme effort succeeds in pulling
off his boot. He peers inside it, feels about inside
it, turns it upside down, shakes it, looks on the
ground to see if anything has fallen out, finds
nothing, feels inside it again, staring sightlessly
before him.) Well?
ESTRAGON:
Nothing.
VLADIMIR:
Show me.
ESTRAGON:
There's nothing to show.
VLADIMIR:
Try and put it on again.
ESTRAGON:
(examining his foot). I'll air it for a bit.
VLADIMIR:
There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots
the faults of his feet. (He takes off his hat again,
peers inside it, feels about inside it, knocks on
the crown, blows into it, puts it on again.) This is
getting alarming. (Silence. Vladimir deep in
thought, Estragon pulling at his toes.) One of the
thieves was saved. (Pause.) It's a reasonable
percentage. (Pause.) Gogo.
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
Suppose we repented.
ESTRAGON:
Repented what?
VLADIMIR:
Oh . . . (He reflects.) We wouldn't have to go into
the details.
ESTRAGON:
Our being born?
Vladimir breaks into a hearty laugh which he
immediately stifles, his hand pressed to his pubis,
his face contorted.
VLADIMIR:
One daren't even laugh any more.
ESTRAGON:
Dreadful privation.
VLADIMIR:
Merely smile. (He smiles suddenly from ear to ear,
keeps smiling, ceases as suddenly.) It's not the
same thing. Nothing to be done. (Pause.) Gogo.
ESTRAGON:
(irritably). What is it?
VLADIMIR:
Did you ever read the Bible?
ESTRAGON:
The Bible . . . (He reflects.) I must have taken a
look at it.
VLADIMIR:
Do you remember the Gospels?
ESTRAGON:
I remember the maps of the Holy Land. Coloured they
were. Very pretty. The Dead Sea was pale blue. The
very look of it made me thirsty. That's where we'll
go, I used to say, that's where we'll go for our
honeymoon. We'll swim. We'll be happy.
VLADIMIR:
You should have been a poet.
ESTRAGON:
I was. (Gesture towards his rags.) Isn't that
obvious?
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Where was I . . . How's your foot?
ESTRAGON:
Swelling visibly.
VLADIMIR:
Ah yes, the two thieves. Do you remember the story?
ESTRAGON:
No.
VLADIMIR:
Shall I tell it to you?
ESTRAGON:
No.
VLADIMIR:
It'll pass the time. (Pause.) Two thieves, crucified
at the same time as our Saviour. One—
ESTRAGON:
Our what?
VLADIMIR:
Our Saviour. Two thieves. One is supposed to have
been saved and the other . . . (he searches for the
contrary of saved) . . . damned.
ESTRAGON:
Saved from what?
VLADIMIR:
Hell.
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
He does not move.
VLADIMIR:
And yet . . . (pause) . . . how is it –this is not
boring you I hope– how is it that of the four
Evangelists only one speaks of a thief being saved.
The four of them were there –or thereabouts– and
only one speaks of a thief being saved. (Pause.)
Come on, Gogo, return the ball, can't you, once in a
way?
ESTRAGON:
(with exaggerated enthusiasm). I find this really
most extraordinarily interesting.
VLADIMIR:
One out of four. Of the other three, two don't
mention any thieves at all and the third says that
both of them abused him.
ESTRAGON:
Who?
VLADIMIR:
What?
ESTRAGON:
What's all this about? Abused who?
VLADIMIR:
The Saviour.
ESTRAGON:
Why?
VLADIMIR:
Because he wouldn't save them.
ESTRAGON:
From hell?
VLADIMIR:
Imbecile! From death.
ESTRAGON:
I thought you said hell.
VLADIMIR:
From death, from death.
ESTRAGON:
Well what of it?
VLADIMIR:
Then the two of them must have been damned.
ESTRAGON:
And why not?
VLADIMIR:
But one of the four says that one of the two was
saved.
ESTRAGON:
Well? They don't agree and that's all there is to
it.
VLADIMIR:
But all four were there. And only one speaks of a
thief being saved. Why believe him rather than the
others?
ESTRAGON:
Who believes him?
VLADIMIR:
Everybody. It's the only version they know.
ESTRAGON:
People are bloody ignorant apes.
He rises painfully, goes limping to extreme left,
halts, gazes into distance off with his hand
screening his eyes, turns, goes to extreme right,
gazes into distance. Vladimir watches him, then goes
and picks up the boot, peers into it, drops it
hastily.
VLADIMIR:
Pah!
He spits. Estragon moves to center, halts with his
back to auditorium.
ESTRAGON:
Charming spot. (He turns, advances to front, halts
facing auditorium.) Inspiring prospects. (He turns
to Vladimir.) Let's go.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We're waiting for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
(despairingly). Ah! (Pause.) You're sure it was
here?
VLADIMIR:
What?
ESTRAGON:
That we were to wait.
VLADIMIR:
He said by the tree. (They look at the tree.) Do you
see any others?
ESTRAGON:
What is it?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know. A willow.
ESTRAGON:
Where are the leaves?
VLADIMIR:
It
must be dead.
ESTRAGON:
No more weeping.
VLADIMIR:
Or perhaps it's not the season.
ESTRAGON:
Looks to me more like a bush.
VLADIMIR:
A shrub.
ESTRAGON:
A bush.
VLADIMIR:
A—. What are you insinuating? That we've come to the
wrong place?
ESTRAGON:
He should be here.
VLADIMIR:
He didn't say for sure he'd come.
ESTRAGON:
And if he doesn't come?
VLADIMIR:
We'll come back tomorrow.
ESTRAGON:
And then the day after tomorrow.
VLADIMIR:
Possibly.
ESTRAGON:
And so on.
VLADIMIR:
The point is—
ESTRAGON:
Until he comes.
VLADIMIR:
You're merciless.
ESTRAGON:
We came here yesterday.
VLADIMIR:
Ah no, there you're mistaken.
ESTRAGON:
What did we do yesterday?
VLADIMIR:
What did we do yesterday?
ESTRAGON:
Yes.
VLADIMIR:
Why . . . (Angrily.) Nothing is certain when you're
about.
ESTRAGON:
In my opinion we were here.
VLADIMIR:
(looking round). You recognize the place?
ESTRAGON:
I didn't say that.
VLADIMIR:
Well?
ESTRAGON:
That makes no difference.
VLADIMIR:
All the same . . . that tree . . . (turning towards
auditorium) that bog . . .
ESTRAGON:
You're sure it was this evening?
VLADIMIR:
What?
ESTRAGON:
That we were to wait.
VLADIMIR:
He said Saturday. (Pause.) I think.
ESTRAGON:
You think.
VLADIMIR:
I must have made a note of it. (He fumbles in his
pockets, bursting with miscellaneous rubbish.)
ESTRAGON:
(very insidious). But what Saturday? And is it
Saturday? Is it not rather Sunday? (Pause.) Or
Monday? (Pause.) Or Friday?
VLADIMIR:
(looking wildly about him, as though the date was
inscribed in the landscape). It's not possible!
ESTRAGON:
Or Thursday?
VLADIMIR:
What'll we do?
ESTRAGON:
If he came yesterday and we weren't here you may be
sure he won't come again today.
VLADIMIR:
But you say we were here yesterday.
ESTRAGON:
I may be mistaken. (Pause.) Let's stop talking for a
minute, do you mind?
VLADIMIR:
(feebly). All right. (Estragon sits down on the
mound. Vladimir paces agitatedly to and fro, halting
from time to time to gaze into distance off.
Estragon falls asleep. Vladimir halts finally before
Estragon.) Gogo! . . . Gogo! . . . GOGO!
Estragon wakes with a start.
ESTRAGON:
(restored to the horror of his situation). I was
asleep! (Despairingly.) Why will you never let me
sleep?
VLADIMIR:
I felt lonely.
ESTRAGON:
I had a dream.
VLADIMIR:
Don't tell me!
ESTRAGON:
I dreamt that—
VLADIMIR:
DON'T TELL ME!
ESTRAGON:
(gesture toward the universe). This one is enough
for you? (Silence.) It's not nice of you, Didi. Who
am I to tell my private nightmares to if I can't
tell them to you?
VLADIMIR:
Let them remain private. You know I can't bear that.
ESTRAGON:
(coldly.) There are times when I wonder if it
wouldn't be better for us to part.
VLADIMIR:
You wouldn't go far.
ESTRAGON:
That would be too bad, really too bad. (Pause.)
Wouldn't it, Didi, be really too bad? (Pause.) When
you think of the beauty of the way. (Pause.) And the
goodness of the wayfarers. (Pause. Wheedling.)
Wouldn't it, Didi?
VLADIMIR:
Calm yourself.
ESTRAGON:
(voluptuously.) Calm . . . calm . . . The English
say cawm. (Pause.) You know the story of the
Englishman in the brothel?
VLADIMIR:
Yes.
ESTRAGON:
Tell it to me.
VLADIMIR:
Ah stop it!
ESTRAGON:
An Englishman having drunk a little more than usual
proceeds to a brothel. The bawd asks him if he wants
a fair one, a dark one or a red-haired one. Go on.
VLADIMIR:
STOP IT!
Exit Vladimir hurriedly. Estragon gets up and
follows him as far as the limit of the stage.
Gestures of Estragon like those of a spectator
encouraging a pugilist. Enter Vladimir. He brushes
past Estragon, crosses the stage with bowed head.
Estragon takes a step towards him, halts.
ESTRAGON:
(gently.) You wanted to speak to me? (Silence.
Estragon takes a step forward.) You had something to
say to me? (Silence. Another step forward.) Didi . .
.
VLADIMIR:
(without turning). I've nothing to say to you.
ESTRAGON:
(step forward). You're angry? (Silence. Step
forward). Forgive me. (Silence. Step forward.
Estragon lays his hand on Vladimir's shoulder.)
Come, Didi. (Silence.) Give me your hand. (Vladimir
half turns.) Embrace me! (Vladimir stiffens.) Don't
be stubborn! (Vladimir softens. They embrace.
Estragon recoils.) You stink of garlic!
VLADIMIR:
It's for the kidneys. (Silence. Estragon looks
attentively at the tree.) What do we do now?
ESTRAGON:
Wait.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, but while waiting.
ESTRAGON:
What about hanging ourselves?
VLADIMIR:
Hmm. It'd give us an erection.
ESTRAGON:
(highly excited). An erection!
VLADIMIR:
With all that follows. Where it falls mandrakes
grow. That's why they shriek when you pull them up.
Did you not know that?
ESTRAGON:
Let's hang ourselves immediately!
VLADIMIR:
From a bough? (They go towards the tree.) I wouldn't
trust it.
ESTRAGON:
We can always try.
VLADIMIR:
Go ahead.
ESTRAGON:
After you.
VLADIMIR:
No no, you first.
ESTRAGON:
Why me?
VLADIMIR:
You're lighter than I am.
ESTRAGON:
Just so!
VLADIMIR:
I don't understand.
ESTRAGON:
Use your intelligence, can't you?
Vladimir uses his intelligence.
VLADIMIR:
(finally). I remain in the dark.
ESTRAGON:
This is how it is. (He reflects.) The bough . . .
the bough . . . (Angrily.) Use your head, can't you?
VLADIMIR:
You're my only hope.
ESTRAGON:
(with effort). Gogo light—bough not break—Gogo dead.
Didi heavy—bough break—Didi alone. Whereas—
VLADIMIR:
I hadn't thought of that.
ESTRAGON:
If it hangs you it'll hang anything.
VLADIMIR:
But am I heavier than you?
ESTRAGON:
So you tell me. I don't know. There's an even
chance. Or nearly.
VLADIMIR:
Well? What do we do?
ESTRAGON:
Don't let's do anything. It's safer.
VLADIMIR:
Let's wait and see what he says.
ESTRAGON:
Who?
VLADIMIR:
Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Good idea.
VLADIMIR:
Let's wait till we know exactly how we stand.
ESTRAGON:
On the other hand it might be better to strike the
iron before it freezes.
VLADIMIR:
I'm curious to hear what he has to offer. Then we'll
take it or leave it.
ESTRAGON:
What exactly did we ask him for?
VLADIMIR:
Were you not there?
ESTRAGON:
I can't have been listening.
VLADIMIR:
Oh . . . Nothing very definite.
ESTRAGON:
A kind of prayer.
VLADIMIR:
Precisely.
ESTRAGON:
A vague supplication.
VLADIMIR:
Exactly.
ESTRAGON:
And what did he reply?
VLADIMIR:
That he'd see.
ESTRAGON:
That he couldn't promise anything.
VLADIMIR:
That he'd have to think it over.
ESTRAGON:
In the quiet of his home.
VLADIMIR:
Consult his family.
ESTRAGON:
His friends.
VLADIMIR:
His agents.
ESTRAGON:
His correspondents.
VLADIMIR:
His books.
ESTRAGON:
His bank account.
VLADIMIR:
Before taking a decision.
ESTRAGON:
It's the normal thing.
VLADIMIR:
Is it not?
ESTRAGON:
I think it is.
VLADIMIR:
I think so too.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
(anxious). And we?
VLADIMIR:
I beg your pardon?
ESTRAGON:
I said, And we?
VLADIMIR:
I don't understand.
ESTRAGON:
Where do we come in?
VLADIMIR:
Come in?
ESTRAGON:
Take your time.
VLADIMIR:
Come in? On our hands and knees.
ESTRAGON:
As bad as that?
VLADIMIR:
Your Worship wishes to assert his prerogatives?
ESTRAGON:
We've no rights any more?
Laugh of Vladimir, stifled as before, less the
smile.
VLADIMIR:
You'd make me laugh if it wasn't prohibited.
ESTRAGON:
We've lost our rights?
VLADIMIR:
(distinctly). We got rid of them.
Silence. They remain motionless, arms dangling,
heads sunk, sagging at the knees.
ESTRAGON:
(feebly). We're not tied? (Pause.) We're not—
VLADIMIR:
Listen!
They listen, grotesquely rigid.
ESTRAGON:
I hear nothing.
VLADIMIR:
Hsst! (They listen. Estragon loses his balance,
almost falls. He clutches the arm of Vladimir, who
totters. They listen, huddled together.) Nor I.
Sighs of relief. They relax and separate.
ESTRAGON:
You gave me a fright.
VLADIMIR:
I thought it was he.
ESTRAGON:
Who?
VLADIMIR:
Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Pah! The wind in the reeds.
VLADIMIR:
I could have sworn I heard shouts.
ESTRAGON:
And why would he shout?
VLADIMIR:
At his horse.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
(violently). I'm hungry!
VLADIMIR:
Do you want a carrot?
ESTRAGON:
Is that all there is?
VLADIMIR:
I might have some turnips.
ESTRAGON:
Give me a carrot. (Vladimir rummages in his pockets,
takes out a turnip and gives it to Estragon who
takes a bite out of it. Angrily.) It's a turnip!
VLADIMIR:
Oh pardon! I could have sworn it was a carrot. (He
rummages again in his pockets, finds nothing but
turnips.) All that's turnips. (He rummages.) You
must have eaten the last. (He rummages.) Wait, I
have it. (He brings out a carrot and gives it to
Estragon.) There, dear fellow. #
(Estragon wipes the carrot on his sleeve and begins
to eat it.) Make it last, that's the end of them.
ESTRAGON:
(chewing). I asked you a question.
VLADIMIR:
Ah.
ESTRAGON:
Did you reply?
VLADIMIR:
How's the carrot?
ESTRAGON:
It's a carrot.
VLADIMIR:
So much the better, so much the better. (Pause.)
What was it you wanted to know?
ESTRAGON:
I've forgotten. (Chews.) That's what annoys me. (He
looks at the carrot appreciatively, dangles it
between finger and thumb.) I'll never forget this
carrot. (He sucks the end of it meditatively.) Ah
yes, now I remember.
VLADIMIR:
Well?
ESTRAGON:
(his mouth full, vacuously). We're not tied?
VLADIMIR:
I don't hear a word you're saying.
ESTRAGON:
(chews, swallows). I'm asking you if we're tied.
VLADIMIR:
Tied?
ESTRAGON:
Ti-ed.
VLADIMIR:
How do you mean tied?
ESTRAGON:
Down.
VLADIMIR:
But to whom? By whom?
ESTRAGON:
To your man.
VLADIMIR:
To Godot? Tied to Godot! What an idea! No question
of it. (Pause.) For the moment.
ESTRAGON:
His name is Godot?
VLADIMIR:
I think so.
ESTRAGON:
Fancy that. (He raises what remains of the carrot by
the stub of leaf, twirls it before his eyes.) Funny,
the more you eat the worse it gets.
VLADIMIR:
With me it's just the opposite.
ESTRAGON:
In other words?
VLADIMIR:
I get used to the muck as I go along.
ESTRAGON:
(after prolonged reflection). Is that the opposite?
VLADIMIR:
Question of temperament.
ESTRAGON:
Of character.
VLADIMIR:
Nothing you can do about it.
ESTRAGON:
No use struggling.
VLADIMIR:
One is what one is.
ESTRAGON:
No use wriggling.
VLADIMIR:
The essential doesn't change.
ESTRAGON:
Nothing to be done. (He proffers the remains of the
carrot to Vladimir.) Like to finish it?
A terrible cry, close at hand. Estragon drops the
carrot. They remain motionless, then together make a
sudden rush towards the wings. Estragon stops
halfway, runs back, picks up the carrot, stuffs it
in his pocket, runs to rejoin Vladimir who is
waiting for him, stops again, runs back, picks up
his boot, runs to rejoin Vladimir. Huddled together,
shoulders hunched, cringing away from the menace,
they wait.
Enter Pozzo and Lucky. Pozzo drives Lucky by means
of a rope passed round his neck, so that Lucky is
the first to enter, followed by the rope which is
long enough to let him reach the middle of the stage
before Pozzo appears. Lucky carries a heavy bag, a
folding stool, a picnic basket and a greatcoat,
Pozzo a whip.
POZZO:
(off). On! (Crack of whip. Pozzo appears. They cross
the stage. Lucky passes before Vladimir and Estragon
and exit. Pozzo at the sight of Vladimir and
Estragon stops short. The rope tautens. Pozzo jerks
at it violently.) Back!
Noise of Lucky falling with all his baggage.
Vladimir and Estragon turn towards him, half wishing
half fearing to go to his assistance. Vladimir takes
a step towards Lucky, Estragon holds him back by the
sleeve.
VLADIMIR:
Let me go!
ESTRAGON:
Stay where you are!
POZZO:
Be careful! He's wicked. (Vladimir and Estragon turn
towards Pozzo.) With strangers.
ESTRAGON:
(undertone). Is that him?
VLADIMIR:
Who?
ESTRAGON:
(trying to remember the name). Er . . .
VLADIMIR:
Godot?
ESTRAGON:
Yes.
POZZO:
I present myself: Pozzo.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). Not at all!
ESTRAGON:
He said Godot.
VLADIMIR:
Not at all!
ESTRAGON:
(timidly, to Pozzo). You're not Mr. Godot, Sir?
POZZO:
(terrifying voice). I am Pozzo! (Silence.) Pozzo!
(Silence.) Does that name mean nothing to you?
(Silence.) I say does that name mean nothing to you?
Vladimir and Estragon look at each other
questioningly.
ESTRAGON:
(pretending to search). Bozzo . . . Bozzo . . .
VLADIMIR:
(ditto). Pozzo . . . Pozzo . . .
POZZO:
PPPOZZZO!
ESTRAGON:
Ah! Pozzo . . . let me see . . . Pozzo . . .
VLADIMIR:
Is it Pozzo or Bozzo?
ESTRAGON:
Pozzo . . . no . . . I'm afraid I . . . no . . . I
don't seem to . . .
Pozzo advances threateningly.
VLADIMIR:
(conciliating). I once knew a family called Gozzo.
The mother had the clap.
ESTRAGON:
(hastily). We're not from these parts, Sir.
POZZO:
(halting). You are human beings none the less. (He
puts on his glasses.) As far as one can see. (He
takes off his glasses.) Of the same species as
myself. (He bursts into an enormous laugh.) Of the
same species as Pozzo! Made in God's image!
VLADIMIR:
Well you see—
POZZO:
(peremptory). Who is Godot?
ESTRAGON:
Godot?
POZZO:
You took me for Godot.
VLADIMIR:
Oh no, Sir, not for an instant, Sir.
POZZO:
Who is he?
VLADIMIR:
Oh he's a . . . he's a kind of acquaintance.
ESTRAGON:
Nothing of the kind, we hardly know him.
VLADIMIR:
True . . . we don't know him very well . . . but all
the same . . .
ESTRAGON:
Personally, I wouldn't even know him if I saw him.
POZZO:
You took me for him.
ESTRAGON:
(recoiling before Pozzo). That's to say . . . you
understand . . . the dusk . . . the strain . . .
waiting . . . I confess . . . I imagined . . . for a
second . . .
POZZO:
Waiting? So you were waiting for him?
VLADIMIR:
Well you see—
POZZO:
Here? On my land?
VLADIMIR:
We didn't intend any harm.
ESTRAGON:
We meant well.
POZZO:
The road is free to all.
VLADIMIR:
That's how we looked at it.
POZZO:
It's a disgrace. But there you are.
ESTRAGON:
Nothing we can do about it.
POZZO:
(with magnanimous gesture). Let's say no more about
it. (He jerks the rope.) Up pig! (Pause.) Every time
he drops he falls asleep. (Jerks the rope.) Up hog!
(Noise of Lucky getting up and picking up his
baggage. Pozzo jerks the rope.) Back! (Enter Lucky
backwards.) Stop! (Lucky stops.) Turn! (Lucky turns.
To Vladimir and Estragon, affably.) Gentlemen, I am
happy to have met you. (Before their incredulous
expression.) Yes yes, sincerely happy. (He jerks the
rope.) Closer! (Lucky advances.) Stop! (Lucky
stops.) Yes, the road seems long when one journeys
all alone for . . . (he consults his watch) . . .
yes . . . (he calculates) . . . yes, six hours,
that's right, six hours on end, and never a soul in
sight. (To Lucky.) Coat! (Lucky puts down the bag,
advances, gives the coat, goes back to his place,
takes up the bag.) Hold that! (Pozzo holds out the
whip. Lucky advances and, both his hands being
occupied, takes the whip in his mouth, then goes
back to his place. Pozzo begins to put on his coat,
stops.) Coat! (Lucky puts down the bag, basket and
stool, helps Pozzo on with his coat, goes back to
his place and takes up bag, basket and stool.) Touch
of autumn in the air this evening. (Pozzo finishes
buttoning up his coat, stoops, inspects himself,
straightens up.) Whip! (Lucky advances, stoops,
Pozzo snatches the whip from his mouth, Lucky goes
back to his place.) Yes, gentlemen, I cannot go for
long without the society of my likes (he puts on his
glasses and looks at the two likes) even when the
likeness is an imperfect one. (He takes off his
glasses.) Stool! (Lucky puts down bag and basket,
advances, opens stool, puts it down, goes back to
his place, takes up bag and basket.) Closer! (Lucky
puts down bag and basket, advances, moves stool,
goes back to his place, takes up bag and basket.
Pozzo sits down, places the butt of his whip against
Lucky's chest and pushes.) Back! (Lucky takes a step
back.) Further! (Lucky takes another step back.)
Stop! (Lucky stops. To Vladimir and Estragon.) That
is why, with your permission, I propose to dally
with you a moment, before I venture any further.
Basket! (Lucky advances, gives the basket, goes back
to his place.) The fresh air stimulates the jaded
appetite. (He opens the basket, takes out a piece of
chicken and a bottle of wine.) Basket! (Lucky
advances, picks up the basket and goes back to his
place.) Further! (Lucky takes a step back.) He
stinks. Happy days!
He drinks from the bottle, puts it down and begins
to eat. Silence.
Vladimir and Estragon, cautiously at first, then
more boldly, begin to circle about Lucky, inspecting
him up and down. Pozzo eats his chicken voraciously,
throwing away the bones after having sucked them.
Lucky sags slowly, until bag and basket touch the
ground, then straightens up with a start and begins
to sag again. Rhythm of one sleeping on his feet.
ESTRAGON:
What ails him?
VLADIMIR:
He looks tired.
ESTRAGON:
Why doesn't he put down his bags?
VLADIMIR:
How do I know? (They close in on him.) Careful!
ESTRAGON:
Say something to him.
VLADIMIR:
Look!
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
(pointing). His neck!
ESTRAGON:
(looking at the neck). I see nothing.
VLADIMIR:
Here.
Estragon goes over beside Vladimir.
ESTRAGON:
Oh I say!
VLADIMIR:
A running sore!
ESTRAGON:
It's the rope.
VLADIMIR:
It's the rubbing.
ESTRAGON:
It's inevitable.
VLADIMIR:
It's the knot.
ESTRAGON:
It's the chafing.
They resume their inspection, dwell on the face.
VLADIMIR:
(grudgingly). He's not bad looking.
ESTRAGON:
(shrugging his shoulders, wry face.) Would you say
so?
VLADIMIR:
A trifle effeminate.
ESTRAGON:
Look at the slobber.
VLADIMIR:
It's inevitable.
ESTRAGON:
Look at the slaver.
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps he's a halfwit.
ESTRAGON:
A cretin.
VLADIMIR:
(looking closer). Looks like a goiter.
ESTRAGON:
(ditto). It's not certain.
VLADIMIR:
He's panting.
ESTRAGON:
It's inevitable.
VLADIMIR:
And his eyes!
ESTRAGON:
What about them?
VLADIMIR:
Goggling out of his head.
ESTRAGON:
Looks like his last gasp to me.
VLADIMIR:
It's not certain. (Pause.) Ask him a question.
ESTRAGON:
Would that be a good thing?
VLADIMIR:
What do we risk?
ESTRAGON:
(timidly). Mister . . .
VLADIMIR:
Louder.
ESTRAGON:
(louder). Mister . . .
POZZO:
Leave him in peace! (They turn toward Pozzo who,
having finished eating, wipes his mouth with the
back of his hand.) Can't you see he wants to rest?
Basket! (He strikes a match and begins to light his
pipe. Estragon sees the chicken bones on the ground
and stares at them greedily. As Lucky does not move
Pozzo throws the match angrily away and jerks the
rope.) Basket! (Lucky starts, almost falls, recovers
his senses, advances, puts the bottle in the basket
and goes back to his place. Estragon stares at the
bones. Pozzo strikes another match and lights his
pipe.) What can you expect, it's not his job. (He
pulls at his pipe, stretches out his legs.) Ah!
That's better.
ESTRAGON:
(timidly). Please Sir . . .
POZZO:
What is it, my good man?
ESTRAGON:
Er . . . you've finished with the . . . er . . . you
don't need the . . . er . . . bones, Sir?
VLADIMIR:
(scandalized). You couldn't have waited?
POZZO:
No no, he does well to ask. Do I need the bones? (He
turns them over with the end of his whip.) No,
personally I do not need them any more. (Estragon
takes a step towards the bones.) But . . . (Estragon
stops short) . . . but in theory the bones go to the
carrier. He is therefore the one to ask. (Estragon
turns towards Lucky, hesitates.) Go on, go on, don't
be afraid, ask him, he'll tell you.
Estragon goes towards Lucky, stops before him.
ESTRAGON:
Mister . . . excuse me, Mister . . .
POZZO:
You're being spoken to, pig! Reply! (To Estragon.)
Try him again.
ESTRAGON:
Excuse me, Mister, the bones, you won't be wanting
the bones?
Lucky looks long at Estragon.
POZZO:
(in raptures). Mister! (Lucky bows his head.) Reply!
Do you want them or don't you? (Silence of Lucky. To
Estragon.) They're yours. (Estragon makes a dart at
the bones, picks them up and begins to gnaw them.) I
don't like it. I've never known him to refuse a bone
before. (He looks anxiously at Lucky.) Nice business
it'd be if he fell sick on me!
He puffs at his pipe.
VLADIMIR:
(exploding). It's a scandal!
Silence. Flabbergasted, Estragon stops gnawing,
looks at Pozzo and Vladimir in turn. Pozzo outwardly
calm. Vladimir embarrassed.
POZZO:
(To Vladimir). Are you alluding to anything in
particular?
VLADIMIR:
(stutteringly resolute). To treat a man . . .
(gesture towards Lucky) . . . like that . . . I
think that . . . no . . . a human being . . . no . .
. it's a scandal!
ESTRAGON:
(not to be outdone). A disgrace!
He resumes his gnawing.
POZZO:
You are severe. (To Vladimir.) What age are you, if
it's not a rude question? (Silence.) Sixty? Seventy?
(To Estragon.) What age would you say he was?
ESTRAGON:
Eleven.
POZZO:
I am impertinent. (He knocks out his pipe against
the whip, gets up.) I must be getting on. Thank you
for your society. (He reflects.) Unless I smoke
another pipe before I go. What do you say? (They say
nothing.) Oh I'm only a small smoker, a very small
smoker, I'm not in the habit of smoking two pipes
one on top of the other, it makes (hand to heart,
sighing) my heart go pit-a-pat. (Silence.) It's the
nicotine, one absorbs it in spite of one's
precautions. (Sighs.) You know how it is. (Silence.)
But perhaps you don't smoke? Yes? No? It's of no
importance. (Silence.) But how am I to sit down now,
without affectation, now that I have risen? Without
appearing to –how shall I say– without appearing to
falter. (To Vladimir.) I beg your pardon? (Silence.)
Perhaps you didn't speak? (Silence.) It's of no
importance. Let me see . . .
He reflects.
ESTRAGON:
Ah! That's better.
He puts the bones in his pocket.
VLADIMIR:
Let's go.
ESTRAGON:
So soon?
POZZO:
One moment! (He jerks the rope.) Stool! (He points
with his whip. Lucky moves the stool.) More! There!
(He sits down. Lucky goes back to his place.) Done
it!
He fills his pipe.
VLADIMIR:
(vehemently). Let's go!
POZZO:
I hope I'm not driving you away. Wait a little
longer, you'll never regret it.
ESTRAGON:
(scenting charity). We're in no hurry.
POZZO:
(having lit his pipe). The second is never so sweet
. . . (he takes the pipe out of his mouth,
contemplates it) . . . as the first I mean. (He puts
the pipe back in his mouth.) But it's sweet just the
same.
VLADIMIR:
I'm going.
POZZO:
He can no longer endure my presence. I am perhaps
not particularly human, but who cares? (To
Vladimir.) Think twice before you do anything rash.
Suppose you go now while it is still day, for there
is no denying it is still day. (They all look up at
the sky.) Good. (They stop looking at the sky.) What
happens in that case– (he takes the pipe out of his
mouth, examines it) –I'm out– (he relights his pipe)
–in that case– (puff) –in that case– (puff) –what
happens in that case to your appointment with this .
. . Godet . . . Godot . . . Godin . . . anyhow you
see who I mean, who has your future in his hands . .
. (pause) . . . at least your immediate future?
VLADIMIR:
Who told you?
POZZO:
He speaks to me again! If this goes on much longer
we'll soon be old friends.
ESTRAGON:
Why doesn't he put down his bags?
POZZO:
I too would be happy to meet him. The more people I
meet the happier I become. From the meanest creature
one departs wiser, richer, more conscious of one's
blessings. Even you . . . (he looks at them
ostentatiously in turn to make it clear they are
both meant) . . . even you, who knows, will have
added to my store.
ESTRAGON:
Why doesn't he put down his bags?
POZZO:
But that would surprise me.
VLADIMIR:
You're being asked a question.
POZZO:
(delighted). A question! Who? What? A moment ago you
were calling me Sir, in fear and trembling. Now
you're asking me questions. No good will come of
this!
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). I think he's listening.
ESTRAGON:
(circling about Lucky). What?
VLADIMIR:
You can ask him now. He's on the alert.
ESTRAGON:
Ask him what?
VLADIMIR:
Why he doesn't put down his bags.
ESTRAGON:
I wonder.
VLADIMIR:
Ask him, can't you?
POZZO:
(who has followed these exchanges with anxious
attention, fearing lest the question get lost). You
want to know why he doesn't put down his bags, as
you call them.
VLADIMIR:
That's it.
POZZO:
(to Estragon). You are sure you agree with that?
ESTRAGON:
He's puffing like a grampus.
POZZO:
The answer is this. (To Estragon). But stay still, I
beg of you, you're making me nervous!
VLADIMIR:
Here.
ESTRAGON:
What is it?
VLADIMIR:
He's about to speak.
Estragon goes over beside Vladimir. Motionless, side
by side, they wait.
POZZO:
Good. Is everybody ready? Is everybody looking at
me? (He looks at Lucky, jerks the rope. Lucky raises
his head.) Will you look at me, pig! (Lucky looks at
him.) Good. (He puts the pipe in his pocket, takes
out a little vaporizer and sprays his throat, puts
back the vaporizer in his pocket, clears his throat,
spits, takes out the vaporizer again, sprays his
throat again, puts back the vaporizer in his
pocket.) I am ready. Is everybody listening? Is
everybody ready? (He looks at them all in turn,
jerks the rope.) Hog! (Lucky raises his head.) I
don't like talking in a vacuum. Good. Let me see.
He reflects.
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
POZZO:
What was it exactly you wanted to know?
VLADIMIR:
Why he—
POZZO:
(angrily). Don't interrupt me! (Pause. Calmer.) If
we all speak at once we'll never get anywhere.
(Pause.) What was I saying? (Pause. Louder.) What
was I saying?
Vladimir mimics one carrying a heavy burden. Pozzo
looks at him, puzzled.
ESTRAGON:
(forcibly). Bags. (He points at Lucky.) Why? Always
hold. (He sags, panting.) Never put down. (He opens
his hands, straightens up with relief.) Why?
POZZO:
Ah! Why couldn't you say so before? Why he doesn't
make himself comfortable? Let's try and get this
clear. Has he not the right to? Certainly he has. It
follows that he doesn't want to. There's reasoning
for you. And why doesn't he want to? (Pause.)
Gentlemen, the reason is this.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). Make a note of this.
POZZO:
He wants to impress me, so that I'll keep him.
ESTRAGON:
What?
POZZO:
Perhaps I haven't got it quite right. He wants to
mollify me, so that I'll give up the idea of parting
with him. No, that's not exactly it either.
VLADIMIR:
You want to get rid of him?
POZZO:
He wants to cod me, but he won't.
VLADIMIR:
You want to get rid of him?
POZZO:
He imagines that when I see how well he carries I'll
be tempted to keep him on in that capacity.
ESTRAGON:
You've had enough of him?
POZZO:
In reality he carries like a pig. It's not his job.
VLADIMIR:
You want to get rid of him?
POZZO:
He imagines that when I see him indefatigable I'll
regret my decision. Such is his miserable scheme. As
though I were short of slaves! (All three look at
Lucky.) Atlas, son of Jupiter! (Silence.) Well,
that's that, I think. Anything else?
Vaporizer.
VLADIMIR:
You want to get rid of him?
POZZO:
Remark that I might just as well have been in his
shoes and he in mine. If chance had not willed
otherwise. To each one his due.
VLADIMIR:
You waagerrim?
POZZO:
I beg your pardon?
VLADIMIR:
You want to get rid of him?
POZZO:
I do. But instead of driving him away as I might
have done, I mean instead of simply kicking him out
on his arse, in the goodness of my heart I am
bringing him to the fair, where I hope to get a good
price for him. The truth is you can't drive such
creatures away. The best thing would be to kill
them.
Lucky weeps.
ESTRAGON:
He's crying!
POZZO:
Old dogs have more dignity. (He proffers his
handkerchief to Estragon.) Comfort him, since you
pity him. (Estragon hesitates.) Come on. (Estragon
takes the handkerchief.) Wipe away his tears, he'll
feel less forsaken.
Estragon hesitates.
VLADIMIR:
Here, give it to me, I'll do it.
Estragon refuses to give the handkerchief.
Childish gestures.
POZZO:
Make haste, before he stops. (Estragon approaches
Lucky and makes to wipe his eyes. Lucky kicks him
violently in the shins. Estragon drops the
handkerchief, recoils, staggers about the stage
howling with pain.) Hanky!
Lucky puts down bag and basket, picks up
handkerchief and gives it to Pozzo, goes back to his
place, picks up bag and basket.
ESTRAGON:
Oh the swine! (He pulls up the leg of his trousers.)
He's crippled me!
POZZO:
I told you he didn't like strangers.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). Show me. (Estragon shows his leg. To
Pozzo, angrily.) He's bleeding!
POZZO:
It's a good sign.
ESTRAGON:
(on one leg). I'll never walk again!
VLADIMIR:
(tenderly). I'll carry you. (Pause.) If necessary.
POZZO:
He's stopped crying. (To Estragon.) You have
replaced him as it were. (Lyrically.) The tears of
the world are a constant quantity. For each one who
begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The
same is true of the laugh. (He laughs.) Let us not
then speak ill of our generation, it is not any
unhappier than its predecessors. (Pause.) Let us not
speak well of it either. (Pause.) Let us not speak
of it at all. (Pause. Judiciously.) It is true the
population has increased.
VLADIMIR:
Try and walk.
Estragon takes a few limping steps, stops before
Lucky and spits on him, then goes and sits down on
the mound.
POZZO:
Guess who taught me all these beautiful things.
(Pause. Pointing to Lucky.) My Lucky!
VLADIMIR:
(looking at the sky.) Will night never come?
POZZO:
But for him all my thoughts, all my feelings, would
have been of common things. (Pause. With
extraordinary vehemence.) Professional worries!
(Calmer.) Beauty, grace, truth of the first water, I
knew they were all beyond me. So I took a knook.
VLADIMIR:
(startled from his inspection of the sky). A knook?
POZZO:
That was nearly sixty years ago . . . (he consults
his watch) . . . yes, nearly sixty. (Drawing himself
up proudly.) You wouldn't think it to look at me,
would you? Compared to him I look like a young man,
no? (Pause.) Hat! (Lucky puts down the basket and
takes off his hat. His long white hair falls about
his face. He puts his hat under his arm and picks up
the basket.) Now look. (Pozzo takes off his hat.
[All four wear bowlers.] He is completely bald. He
puts on his hat again.) Did you see?
VLADIMIR:
And now you turn him away? Such an old and faithful
servant!
ESTRAGON:
Swine!
Pozzo more and more agitated.
VLADIMIR:
After having sucked all the good out of him you
chuck him away like a . . . like a banana skin.
Really . . .
POZZO:
(groaning, clutching his head). I can't bear it . .
. any longer . . . the way he goes on . . . you've
no idea . . . it's terrible . . . he must go . . .
(he waves his arms) . . . I'm going mad . . . (he
collapses, his head in his hands) . . . I can't bear
it . . . any longer . . .
Silence. All look at Pozzo.
VLADIMIR:
He can't bear it.
ESTRAGON:
Any longer.
VLADIMIR:
He's going mad.
ESTRAGON:
It's terrible.
VLADIMIR:
(to Lucky). How dare you! It's abominable! Such a
good master! Crucify him like that! After so many
years! Really!
POZZO:
(sobbing). He used to be so kind . . . so helpful .
. . and entertaining . . . my good angel . . . and
now . . . he's killing me.
ESTRAGON:
( to Vladimir). Does he want to replace him?
VLADIMIR:
What?
ESTRAGON:
Does he want someone to take his place or not?
VLADIMIR:
I don't think so.
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know.
ESTRAGON:
Ask him.
POZZO:
(calmer). Gentlemen, I don't know what came over me.
Forgive me. Forget all I said. (More and more his
old self.) I don't remember exactly what it was, but
you may be sure there wasn't a word of truth in it.
(Drawing himself up, striking his chest.) Do I look
like a man that can be made to suffer? Frankly? (He
rummages in his pockets.) What have I done with my
pipe?
VLADIMIR:
Charming evening we're having.
ESTRAGON:
Unforgettable.
VLADIMIR:
And it's not over.
ESTRAGON:
Apparently not.
VLADIMIR:
It's only beginning.
ESTRAGON:
It's awful.
VLADIMIR:
Worse than the pantomime.
ESTRAGON:
The circus.
VLADIMIR:
The music-hall.
ESTRAGON:
The circus.
POZZO:
What can I have done with that briar?
ESTRAGON:
He's a scream. He's lost his dudeen.
Laughs noisily.
VLADIMIR:
I'll be back.
He hastens towards the wings.
ESTRAGON:
End of the corridor, on the left.
VLADIMIR:
Keep my seat.
Exit Vladimir.
POZZO:
(on the point of tears). I've lost my Kapp and
Peterson!
ESTRAGON:
(convulsed with merriment). He'll be the death of
me!
POZZO:
You didn't see by any chance– (He misses Vladimir.)
Oh! He's gone! Without saying goodbye! How could he!
He might have waited!
ESTRAGON:
He would have burst.
POZZO:
Oh! (Pause.) Oh well then of course in that case . .
.
ESTRAGON:
Come here.
POZZO:
What for?
ESTRAGON:
You'll see.
POZZO:
You want me to get up?
ESTRAGON:
Quick! (Pozzo gets up and goes over beside Estragon.
Estragon points off.) Look!
POZZO:
(having put on his glasses). Oh I say!
ESTRAGON:
It's all over.
Enter Vladimir, somber. He shoulders Lucky out of
his way, kicks over the stool, comes and goes
agitatedly.
POZZO:
He's not pleased.
ESTRAGON:
(to Vladimir). You missed a treat. Pity.
Vladimir halts, straightens the stool, comes and
goes, calmer.
POZZO:
He subsides. (Looking round.) Indeed all subsides. A
great calm descends. (Raising his hand.) Listen! Pan
sleeps.
VLADIMIR:
Will night never come?
All three look at the sky.
POZZO:
You don't feel like going until it does?
ESTRAGON:
Well you see—
POZZO:
Why it's very natural, very natural. I myself in
your situation, if I had an appointment with a Godin
. . . Godet . . . Godot . . . anyhow, you see who I
mean, I'd wait till it was black night before I gave
up. (He looks at the stool.) I'd very much like to
sit down, but I don't quite know how to go about it.
ESTRAGON:
Could I be of any help?
POZZO:
If you asked me perhaps.
ESTRAGON:
What?
POZZO:
If you asked me to sit down.
ESTRAGON:
Would that be a help?
POZZO:
I fancy so.
ESTRAGON:
Here we go. Be seated, Sir, I beg of you.
POZZO:
No no, I wouldn't think of it! (Pause. Aside.) Ask
me again.
ESTRAGON:
Come come, take a seat I beseech you, you'll get
pneumonia.
POZZO:
You really think so?
ESTRAGON:
Why it's absolutely certain.
POZZO:
No doubt you are right. (He sits down.) Done it
again! (Pause.) Thank you, dear fellow. (He consults
his watch.) But I must really be getting along, if I
am to observe my schedule.
VLADIMIR:
Time has stopped.
POZZO:
(cuddling his watch to his ear). Don't you believe
it, Sir, don't you believe it. (He puts his watch
back in his pocket.) Whatever you like, but not
that.
ESTRAGON:
(to Pozzo). Everything seems black to him today.
POZZO:
Except the firmament. (He laughs, pleased with this
witticism.) But I see what it is, you are not from
these parts, you don't know what our twilights can
do. Shall I tell you? (Silence. Estragon is fiddling
with his boot again, Vladimir with his hat.) I can't
refuse you. (Vaporizer.) A little attention, if you
please. (Vladimir and Estragon continue their
fiddling, Lucky is half asleep. Pozzo cracks his
whip feebly.) What's the matter with this whip? (He
gets up and cracks it more vigorously, finally with
success. Lucky jumps. Vladimir's hat, Estragon's
boot, Lucky's hat, fall to the ground. Pozzo throws
down the whip.) Worn out, this whip. (He looks at
Vladimir and Estragon.) What was I saying?
VLADIMIR:
Let's go.
ESTRAGON:
But take the weight off your feet, I implore you,
you'll catch your death.
POZZO:
True. (He sits down. To Estragon.) What is your
name?
ESTRAGON:
Adam.
POZZO:
(who hasn't listened). Ah yes! The night. (He raises
his head.) But be a little more attentive, for
pity's sake, otherwise we'll never get anywhere. (He
looks at the sky.) Look! (All look at the sky except
Lucky who is dozing off again. Pozzo jerks the
rope.) Will you look at the sky, pig! (Lucky looks
at the sky.) Good, that's enough. (They stop looking
at the sky.) What is there so extraordinary about
it? Qua sky. It is pale and luminous like any sky at
this hour of the day. (Pause.) In these latitudes.
(Pause.) When the weather is fine. (Lyrical.) An
hour ago (he looks at his watch, prosaic) roughly
(lyrical) after having poured forth even since (he
hesitates, prosaic) say ten o'clock in the morning
(lyrical) tirelessly torrents of red and white light
it begins to lose its effulgence, to grow pale
(gesture of the two hands lapsing by stages) pale,
ever a little paler, a little paler until (dramatic
pause, ample gesture of the two hands flung wide
apart) pppfff! finished! it comes to rest. But–
(hand raised in admonition)– but behind this veil of
gentleness and peace, night is charging (vibrantly)
and will burst upon us (snaps his fingers) pop! like
that! (his inspiration leaves him) just when we
least expect it. (Silence. Gloomily.) That's how it
is on this bitch of an earth.
Long silence.
ESTRAGON:
So long as one knows.
VLADIMIR:
One can bide one's time.
ESTRAGON:
One knows what to expect.
VLADIMIR:
No further need to worry.
ESTRAGON:
Simply wait.
VLADIMIR:
We're used to it.
He picks up his hat, peers inside it, shakes it,
puts it on.
POZZO:
How did you find me? (Vladimir and Estragon look at
him blankly.) Good? Fair? Middling? Poor? Positively
bad?
VLADIMIR:
(first to understand). Oh very good, very very good.
POZZO:
(to Estragon). And you, Sir?
ESTRAGON:
Oh tray bong, tray tray tray bong.
POZZO:
(fervently). Bless you, gentlemen, bless you!
(Pause.) I have such need of encouragement! (Pause.)
I weakened a little towards the end, you didn't
notice?
VLADIMIR:
Oh perhaps just a teeny weeny little bit.
ESTRAGON:
I thought it was intentional.
POZZO:
You see my memory is defective.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
In the meantime, nothing happens.
POZZO:
You find it tedious?
ESTRAGON:
Somewhat.
POZZO:
(to Vladimir). And you, Sir?
VLADIMIR:
I've been better entertained.
Silence. Pozzo struggles inwardly.
POZZO:
Gentlemen, you have been . . . civil to me.
ESTRAGON:
Not at all!
VLADIMIR:
What an idea!
POZZO:
Yes yes, you have been correct. So that I ask myself
is there anything I can do in my turn for these
honest fellows who are having such a dull, dull
time.
ESTRAGON:
Even ten francs would be a help.
VLADIMIR:
We are not beggars!
POZZO:
Is there anything I can do, that's what I ask
myself, to cheer them up? I have given them bones, I
have talked to them about this and that, I have
explained the twilight, admittedly. But is it
enough, that's what tortures me, is it enough?
ESTRAGON:
Even five.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon, indignantly). That's enough!
ESTRAGON:
I couldn't accept less.
POZZO:
Is is enough? No doubt. But I am liberal. It's my
nature. This evening. So much the worse for me. (He
jerks the rope. Lucky looks at him.) For I shall
suffer, no doubt about that. (He picks up the whip.)
What do you prefer? Shall we have him dance, or
sing, or recite, or think, or—
ESTRAGON:
Who?
POZZO:
Who! You know how to think, you two?
VLADIMIR:
He thinks?
POZZO:
Certainly. Aloud. He even used to think very
prettily once, I could listen to him for hours. Now
. . . (he shudders). So much the worse for me. Well,
would you like him to think something for us?
ESTRAGON:
I'd rather he dance, it'd be more fun.
POZZO:
Not necessarily.
ESTRAGON:
Wouldn't it, Didi, be more fun?
VLADIMIR:
I'd like well to hear him think.
ESTRAGON:
Perhaps he could dance first and think afterwards,
if it isn't too much to ask him.
VLADIMIR:
(to Pozzo). Would that be possible?
POZZO:
By all means, nothing simpler. It's the natural
order.
He laughs briefly.
VLADIMIR:
Then let him dance.
Silence.
POZZO:
Do you hear, hog?
ESTRAGON:
He never refuses?
POZZO:
He refused once. (Silence.) Dance, misery!
Lucky puts down bag and basket, advances towards
front, turns to Pozzo. Lucky dances. He stops.
ESTRAGON:
Is that all?
POZZO:
Encore!
Lucky executes the same movements, stops.
ESTRAGON:
Pooh! I'd do as well myself. (He imitates Lucky,
almost falls.) With a little practice.
POZZO:
He used to dance the farandole, the fling, the
brawl, the jig, the fandango and even the hornpipe.
He capered. For joy. Now that's the best he can do.
Do you know what he calls it?
ESTRAGON:
The Scapegoat's Agony.
VLADIMIR:
The Hard Stool.
POZZO:
The Net. He thinks he's entangled in a net.
VLADIMIR:
(squirming like an aesthete). There's something
about it . . .
Lucky makes to return to his burdens.
POZZO:
Woaa!
Lucky stiffens.
ESTRAGON:
Tell us about the time he refused.
POZZO:
With pleasure, with pleasure. (He fumbles in his
pockets.) Wait. (He fumbles.) What have I done with
my spray? (He fumbles.) Well now isn't that . . .
(He looks up, consternation on his features.
Faintly.) I can't find my pulverizer!
ESTRAGON:
(faintly). My left lung is very weak! (He coughs
feebly. In ringing tones.) But my right lung is as
sound as a bell!
POZZO:
(normal voice). No matter! What was I saying. (He
ponders.) Wait. (Ponders.) Well now isn't that . . .
(He raises his head.) Help me!
ESTRAGON:
Wait!
VLADIMIR:
Wait!
POZZO:
Wait!
All three take off their hats simultaneously, press
their hands to their foreheads, concentrate.
ESTRAGON:
(triumphantly). Ah!
VLADIMIR:
He has it.
POZZO:
(impatient). Well?
ESTRAGON:
Why doesn't he put down his bags?
VLADIMIR:
Rubbish!
POZZO:
Are you sure?
VLADIMIR:
Damn it haven't you already told us?
POZZO:
I've already told you?
ESTRAGON:
He's already told us?
VLADIMIR:
Anyway he has put them down.
ESTRAGON:
(glance at Lucky). So he has. And what of it?
VLADIMIR:
Since he has put down his bags it is impossible we
should have asked why he does not do so.
POZZO:
Stoutly reasoned!
ESTRAGON:
And why has he put them down?
POZZO:
Answer us that.
VLADIMIR:
In order to dance.
ESTRAGON:
True!
POZZO:
True!
Silence. They put on their hats.
ESTRAGON:
Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's
awful!
VLADIMIR:
(to Pozzo). Tell him to think.
POZZO:
Give him his hat.
VLADIMIR:
His hat?
POZZO:
He can't think without his hat.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). Give him his hat.
ESTRAGON:
Me! After what he did to me! Never!
VLADIMIR:
I'll give it to him.
He does not move.
ESTRAGON:
(to Pozzo). Tell him to go and fetch it.
POZZO:
It's better to give it to him.
VLADIMIR:
I'll give it to him.
He picks up the hat and tenders it at arm's length
to Lucky, who does not move.
POZZO:
You must put it on his head.
ESTRAGON:
(to Pozzo). Tell him to take it.
POZZO:
It's better to put it on his head.
VLADIMIR:
I'll put it on his head.
He goes round behind Lucky, approaches him
cautiously, puts the hat on his head and recoils
smartly. Lucky does not move. Silence.
ESTRAGON:
What's he waiting for?
POZZO:
Stand back! (Vladimir and Estragon move away from
Lucky. Pozzo jerks the rope. Lucky looks at Pozzo.)
Think, pig! (Pause. Lucky begins to dance.) Stop!
(Lucky stops.) Forward! (Lucky advances.) Stop!
(Lucky stops.) Think!
Silence.
LUCKY:
On the other hand with regard to—
POZZO:
Stop! (Lucky stops.) Back! (Lucky moves back.) Stop!
(Lucky stops.) Turn! (Lucky turns towards
auditorium.) Think!
During Lucky's tirade the others react as follows.
1) Vladimir and Estragon all attention, Pozzo
dejected and disgusted.
2) Vladimir and Estragon begin to protest, Pozzo's
sufferings increase.
3) Vladimir and Estragon attentive again, Pozzo more
and more agitated and groaning.
4) Vladimir and Estragon protest violently. Pozzo
jumps up, pulls on the rope. General outcry. Lucky
pulls on the rope, staggers, shouts his text. All
three throw themselves on Lucky who struggles and
shouts his text.
LUCKY:
Given the existence as uttered forth in the public
works of Puncher and Wattmann of a personal God
quaquaquaqua with white beard quaquaquaqua outside
time without extension who from the heights of
divine apathia divine athambia divine aphasia loves
us dearly with some exceptions for reasons unknown
but time will tell and suffers like the divine
Miranda with those who for reasons unknown but time
will tell are plunged in torment plunged in fire
whose fire flames if that continues and who can
doubt it will fire the firmament that is to say
blast hell to heaven so blue still and calm so calm
with a calm which even though intermittent is better
than nothing but not so fast and considering what is
more that as a result of the labors left unfinished
crowned by the Acacacacademy of Anthropopopometry of
Essy-in-Possy of Testew and Cunard it is established
beyond all doubt all other doubt than that which
clings to the labors of men that as a result of the
labors unfinished of Testew and Cunnard it is
established as hereinafter but not so fast for
reasons unknown that as a result of the public works
of Puncher and Wattmann it is established beyond all
doubt that in view of the labors of Fartov and
Belcher left unfinished for reasons unknown of
Testew and Cunard left unfinished it is established
what many deny that man in Possy of Testew and
Cunard that man in Essy that man in short that man
in brief in spite of the strides of alimentation and
defecation wastes and pines wastes and pines and
concurrently simultaneously what is more for reasons
unknown in spite of the strides of physical culture
the practice of sports such as tennis football
running cycling swimming flying floating riding
gliding conating camogie skating tennis of all kinds
dying flying sports of all sorts autumn summer
winter winter tennis of all kinds hockey of all
sorts penicillin and succedanea in a word I resume
flying gliding golf over nine and eighteen holes
tennis of all sorts in a word for reasons unknown in
Feckham Peckham Fulham Clapham namely concurrently
simultaneously what is more for reasons unknown but
time will tell fades away I resume Fulham Clapham in
a word the dead loss per head since the death of
Bishop Berkeley being to the tune of one inch four
ounce per head approximately by and large more or
less to the nearest decimal good measure round
figures stark naked in the stockinged feet in
Connemara in a word for reasons unknown no matter
what matter the facts are there and considering what
is more much more grave that in the light of the
labors lost of Steinweg and Peterman it appears what
is more much more grave that in the light the light
the light of the labors lost of Steinweg and
Peterman that in the plains in the mountains by the
seas by the rivers running water running fire the
air is the same and then the earth namely the air
and then the earth in the great cold the great dark
the air and the earth abode of stones in the great
cold alas alas in the year of their Lord six hundred
and something the air the earth the sea the earth
abode of stones in the great deeps the great cold on
sea on land and in the air I resume for reasons
unknown in spite of the tennis the facts are there
but time will tell I resume alas alas on on in short
in fine on on abode of stones who can doubt it I
resume but not so fast I resume the skull fading
fading fading and concurrently simultaneously what
is more for reasons unknown in spite of the tennis
on on the beard the flames the tears the stones so
blue so calm alas alas on on the skull the skull the
skull the skull in Connemara in spite of the tennis
the labors abandoned left unfinished graver still
abode of stones in a word I resume alas alas
abandoned unfinished the skull the skull in
Connemara in spite of the tennis the skull alas the
stones Cunard (mêlée, final vociferations)
. .
. tennis . . . the stones . . . so calm . . . Cunard
. . . unfinished . . .
POZZO:
His hat!
Vladimir seizes Lucky's hat. Silence of Lucky. He
falls. Silence. Panting of the victors.
ESTRAGON:
Avenged!
Vladimir examines the hat, peers inside it.
POZZO:
Give me that! (He snatches the hat from Vladimir,
throws it on the ground, tramples on it.) There's an
end to his thinking!
VLADIMIR:
But will he be able to walk?
POZZO:
Walk or crawl! (He kicks Lucky.) Up pig!
ESTRAGON:
Perhaps he's dead.
VLADIMIR:
You'll kill him.
POZZO:
Up scum! (He jerks the rope.) Help me!
VLADIMIR:
How?
POZZO:
Raise him up!
Vladimir and Estragon hoist Lucky to his feet,
support him an instant, then let him go. He falls.
ESTRAGON:
He's doing it on purpose!
POZZO:
You must hold him. (Pause.) Come on, come on, raise
him up.
ESTRAGON:
To hell with him!
VLADIMIR:
Come on, once more.
ESTRAGON:
What does he take us for?
They raise Lucky, hold him up.
POZZO:
Don't let him go! (Vladimir and Estragon totter.)
Don't move! (Pozzo fetches bag and basket and brings
them towards Lucky.) Hold him tight! (He puts the
bag in Lucky's hand. Lucky drops it immediately.)
Don't let him go! (He puts back the bag in Lucky's
hand. Gradually, at the feel of the bag, Lucky
recovers his senses and his fingers finally close
round the handle.) Hold him tight! (As before with
basket.) #
Now! You can let him go. (Vladimir and Estragon move
away from Lucky who totters, reels, sags, but
succeeds in remaining on his feet, bag and basket in
his hands. Pozzo steps back, cracks his whip.)
Forward! (Lucky totters forward.) Back! (Lucky
totters back.) Turn! (Lucky turns.) Done it! He can
walk. (Turning to Vladimir and Estragon.) Thank you,
gentlemen, and let me . . . (he fumbles in his
pockets) . . . let me wish you . . . (fumbles) . . .
wish you . . . (fumbles) . . . what have I done with
my watch? (Fumbles.) A genuine half-hunter,
gentlemen, with deadbeat escapement! (Sobbing.) Twas
my granpa gave it to me! (He searches on the ground,
Vladimir and Estragon likewise. Pozzo turns over
with his foot the remains of Lucky's hat.) Well now
isn't that just—
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps it's in your fob.
POZZO:
Wait! (He doubles up in an attempt to apply his ear
to his stomach, listens. Silence.) I hear nothing.
(He beckons them to approach, Vladimir and Estragon
go over to him, bend over his stomach.) Surely one
should hear the tick-tick.
VLADIMIR:
Silence!
All listen, bent double.
ESTRAGON:
I hear something.
POZZO:
Where?
VLADIMIR:
It's the heart.
POZZO:
(disappointed). Damnation!
VLADIMIR:
Silence!
ESTRAGON:
Perhaps it has stopped.
They straighten up.
POZZO:
Which of you smells so bad?
ESTRAGON:
He has stinking breath and I have stinking feet.
POZZO:
I must go.
ESTRAGON:
And your half-hunter?
POZZO:
I must have left it at the manor.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Then adieu.
POZZO:
Adieu.
VLADIMIR:
Adieu.
POZZO:
Adieu.
Silence. No one moves.
VLADIMIR:
Adieu.
POZZO:
Adieu.
ESTRAGON:
Adieu.
Silence.
POZZO:
And thank you.
VLADIMIR:
Thank you.
POZZO:
Not at all.
ESTRAGON:
Yes yes.
POZZO:
No no.
VLADIMIR:
Yes yes.
ESTRAGON:
No no.
Silence.
POZZO:
I don't seem to be able . . . (long hesitation) . .
. to depart.
ESTRAGON:
Such is life.
Pozzo turns, moves away from Lucky towards the
wings, paying out the rope as he goes.
VLADIMIR:
You're going the wrong way.
POZZO:
I need a running start. (Having come to the end of
the rope, i.e., off stage, he stops, turns and
cries.) Stand back! (Vladimir and Estragon stand
back, look towards Pozzo. Crack of whip.) On! On!
ESTRAGON:
On!
VLADIMIR:
On!
Lucky moves off.
POZZO:
Faster! (He appears, crosses the stage preceded by
Lucky. Vladimir and Estragon wave their hats. Exit
Lucky.) On! On! (On the point of disappearing in his
turn he stops and turns. The rope tautens. Noise of
Lucky falling off.) Stool! (Vladimir fetches stool
and gives it to Pozzo who throws it to Lucky.)
Adieu!
VLADIMIR and ESTRAGON:
(waving). Adieu! Adieu!
POZZO:
Up! Pig! (Noise of Lucky getting up.) On! (Exit
Pozzo.) Faster! On! Adieu! Pig! Yip! Adieu!
Long silence.
VLADIMIR:
That passed the time.
ESTRAGON:
It would have passed in any case.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, but not so rapidly.
Pause.
ESTRAGON:
What do we do now?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know.
ESTRAGON:
Let's go.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We're waiting for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
(despairingly). Ah!
Pause.
VLADIMIR:
How they've changed!
ESTRAGON:
Who?
VLADIMIR:
Those two.
ESTRAGON:
That's the idea, let's make a little conversation.
VLADIMIR:
Haven't they?
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
Changed.
ESTRAGON:
Very likely. They all change. Only we can't.
VLADIMIR:
Likely! It's certain. Didn't you see them?
ESTRAGON:
I suppose I did. But I don't know them.
VLADIMIR:
Yes you do know them.
ESTRAGON:
No I don't know them.
VLADIMIR:
We know them, I tell you. You forget everything.
(Pause. To himself.) Unless they're not the same . .
.
ESTRAGON:
Why didn't they recognize us then?
VLADIMIR:
That means nothing. I too pretended not to recognize
them. And then nobody ever recognizes us.
ESTRAGON:
Forget it. What we need– Ow! (Vladimir does not
react.) Ow!
VLADIMIR:
(to himself). Unless they're not the same . . .
ESTRAGON:
Didi! It's the other foot!
He goes hobbling towards the mound.
VLADIMIR:
Unless they're not the same . . .
BOY:
(off). Mister!
Estragon halts. Both look towards the voice.
ESTRAGON:
Off we go again.
VLADIMIR:
Approach, my child.
Enter Boy, timidly. He halts.
BOY:
Mister Albert . . . ?
VLADIMIR:
Yes.
ESTRAGON:
What do you want?
VLADIMIR:
Approach!
The Boy does not move.
ESTRAGON:
(forcibly). Approach when you're told, can't you?
The Boy advances timidly, halts.
VLADIMIR:
What is it?
BOY:
Mr. Godot . . .
VLADIMIR:
Obviously . . . (Pause.) Approach.
ESTRAGON:
(violently). Will you approach! (The Boy advances
timidly.) What kept you so late?
VLADIMIR:
You have a message from Mr. Godot?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Well, what is it?
ESTRAGON:
What kept you so late?
The Boy looks at them in turn, not knowing to which
he should reply.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). Let him alone.
ESTRAGON:
(violently). You let me alone. (Advancing, to the
Boy.) Do you know what time it is?
BOY:
(recoiling). It's not my fault, Sir.
ESTRAGON:
And whose is it? Mine?
BOY:
I was afraid, Sir.
ESTRAGON:
Afraid of what? Of us? (Pause.) Answer me!
VLADIMIR:
I know what it is, he was afraid of the others.
ESTRAGON:
How long have you been here?
BOY:
A good while, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
You were afraid of the whip?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
The roars?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
The two big men.
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Do you know them?
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Are you a native of these parts? (Silence.) Do you
belong to these parts?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
ESTRAGON:
That's all a pack of lies. (Shaking the Boy by the
arm.) Tell us the truth!
BOY:
(trembling). But it is the truth, Sir!
VLADIMIR:
Will you let him alone! What's the matter with you?
(Estragon releases the Boy, moves away, covering his
face with his hands. Vladimir and the Boy observe
him. Estragon drops his hands. His face is
convulsed.) What's the matter with you?
ESTRAGON:
I'm unhappy.
VLADIMIR:
Not really! Since when?
ESTRAGON:
I'd forgotten.
VLADIMIR:
Extraordinary the tricks that memory plays!
(Estragon tries to speak, renounces, limps to his
place, sits down and begins to take off his boots.
To Boy.) Well?
BOY:
Mr. Godot—
VLADIMIR:
I've seen you before, haven't I?
BOY:
I don't know, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
You don't know me?
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
It wasn't you came yesterday?
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
This is your first time?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Words words. (Pause.) Speak.
BOY:
(in a rush). Mr. Godot told me to tell you he won't
come this evening but surely tomorrow.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Is that all?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
You work for Mr. Godot?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
What do you do?
BOY:
I mind the goats, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Is he good to you?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
He doesn't beat you?
BOY:
No Sir, not me.
VLADIMIR:
Whom does he beat?
BOY:
He beats my brother, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Ah, you have a brother?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
What does he do?
BOY:
He minds the sheep, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
And why doesn't he beat you?
BOY:
I don't know, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
He must be fond of you.
BOY:
I don't know, Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Does he give you enough to eat? (The Boy hesitates.)
Does he feed you well?
BOY:
Fairly well, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
You're not unhappy? (The Boy hesitates.) Do you hear
me?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Well?
BOY:
I don't know, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
You don't know if you're unhappy or not?
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
You're as bad as myself. (Silence.) Where do you
sleep?
BOY:
In the loft, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
With your brother?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
In the hay?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
All right, you may go.
BOY:
What am I to tell Mr. Godot, Sir?
VLADIMIR:
Tell him . . . (he hesitates) . . . tell him you saw
us. (Pause.) You did see us, didn't you?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
He steps back, hesitates, turns and exit running.
The light suddenly fails. In a moment it is night.
The moon rises at back, mounts in the sky, stands
still, shedding a pale light on the scene.
VLADIMIR:
At last! (Estragon gets up and goes towards
Vladimir, a boot in each hand. He puts them down at
edge of stage, straightens and contemplates the
moon.)
What are you doing?
ESTRAGON:
Pale for weariness.
VLADIMIR:
Eh?
ESTRAGON:
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the likes of us.
VLADIMIR:
Your boots, what are you doing with your boots?
ESTRAGON:
(turning to look at the boots). I'm leaving them
there. (Pause.) Another will come, just as . . . as
. . . as me, but with smaller feet, and they'll make
him happy.
VLADIMIR:
But you can't go barefoot!
ESTRAGON:
Christ did.
VLADIMIR:
Christ! What has Christ got to do with it. You're
not going to compare yourself to Christ!
ESTRAGON:
All my life I've compared myself to him.
VLADIMIR:
But where he lived it was warm, it was dry!
ESTRAGON:
Yes. And they crucified quick.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
We've nothing more to do here.
ESTRAGON:
Nor anywhere else.
VLADIMIR:
Ah Gogo, don't go on like that. Tomorrow everything
will be better.
ESTRAGON:
How do you make that out?
VLADIMIR:
Did you not hear what the child said?
ESTRAGON:
No.
VLADIMIR:
He said that Godot was sure to come tomorrow.
(Pause.) What do you say to that?
ESTRAGON:
Then all we have to do is to wait on here.
VLADIMIR:
Are you mad? We must take cover. (He takes Estragon
by the arm.) Come on.
He draws Estragon after him. Estragon yields, then
resists. They halt.
ESTRAGON:
(looking at the tree). Pity we haven't got a bit of
rope.
VLADIMIR:
Come on. It's cold.
He draws Estragon after him. As before.
ESTRAGON:
Remind me to bring a bit of rope tomorrow.
VLADIMIR:
Yes. Come on.
He draws him after him. As before.
ESTRAGON:
How long have we been together all the time now?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know. Fifty years maybe.
ESTRAGON:
Do you remember the day I threw myself into the
Rhone?
VLADIMIR:
We were grape harvesting.
ESTRAGON:
You fished me out.
VLADIMIR:
That's all dead and buried.
ESTRAGON:
My clothes dried in the sun.
VLADIMIR:
There's no good harking back on that. Come on.
He draws him after him. As before.
ESTRAGON:
Wait!
VLADIMIR:
I'm cold!
ESTRAGON:
Wait! (He moves away from Vladimir.) I sometimes
wonder if we wouldn't have been better off alone,
each one for himself. (He crosses the stage and sits
down on the mound.) We weren't made for the same
road.
VLADIMIR:
(without anger). It's not certain.
ESTRAGON:
No, nothing is certain.
Vladimir slowly crosses the stage and sits down
beside Estragon.
VLADIMIR:
We can still part, if you think it would be better.
ESTRAGON:
It's not worthwhile now.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
No, it's not worthwhile now.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Well, shall we go?
VLADIMIR:
Yes, let's go.
They do not move.
Curtain.
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ACT
II
Next day. Same time.
Same place.
Estragon's boots front center, heels together, toes
splayed.
Lucky's hat at same place.
The tree has four or five leaves.
Enter Vladimir agitatedly. He halts and looks long
at the tree, then suddenly begins to move feverishly
about the stage. He halts before the boots, picks
one up, examines it, sniffs it, manifests disgust,
puts it back carefully. Comes and goes. Halts
extreme right and gazes into distance off, shading
his eyes with his hand. Comes and goes. Halts
extreme left, as before. Comes and goes. Halts
suddenly and begins to sing loudly.
VLADIMIR:
A
dog came in–
Having begun too high he stops, clears his throat,
resumes:
A dog came in the kitchen
And stole a crust of bread.
Then cook up with a ladle
And beat him till he was dead.
Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb–
He
stops, broods, resumes:
Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb
And wrote upon the tombstone
For the eyes of dogs to come:
A
dog came in the kitchen
And stole a crust of bread.
Then cook up with a ladle
And beat him till he was dead.
Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb–
He
stops, broods, resumes:
Then all the dogs came running
And dug the dog a tomb–
He
stops, broods. Softly.
And dug the dog a tomb . . .
He remains a moment silent and motionless, then
begins to move feverishly about the stage. He halts
before the tree, comes and goes, before the boots,
comes and goes, halts extreme right, gazes into
distance, extreme left, gazes into distance. Enter
Estragon right, barefoot, head bowed. He slowly
crosses the stage. Vladimir turns and sees him.
VLADIMIR:
You again! (Estragon halts but does not raise his
head. Vladimir goes towards him.) Come here till I
embrace you.
ESTRAGON:
Don't touch me!
Vladimir holds back, pained.
VLADIMIR:
Do you want me to go away? (Pause.) Gogo! (Pause.
Vladimir observes him attentively.) Did they beat
you? (Pause.) Gogo! (Estragon remains silent, head
bowed.) Where did you spend the night?
ESTRAGON:
Don't touch me! Don't question me! Don't speak to
me! Stay with me!
VLADIMIR:
Did I ever leave you?
ESTRAGON:
You let me go.
VLADIMIR:
Look at me. (Estragon does not raise his head.
Violently.) Will you look at me!
Estragon raises his head. They look long at each
other, then suddenly embrace, clapping each other on
the back. End of the embrace. Estragon, no longer
supported, almost falls.
ESTRAGON:
What a day!
VLADIMIR:
Who beat you? Tell me.
ESTRAGON:
Another day done with.
VLADIMIR:
Not yet.
ESTRAGON:
For me it's over and done with, no matter what
happens. (Silence.) I heard you singing.
VLADIMIR:
That's right, I remember.
ESTRAGON:
That finished me. I said to myself, He's all alone,
he thinks I'm gone for ever, and he sings.
VLADIMIR:
One is not master of one's moods. All day I've felt
in great form. (Pause.) I didn't get up in the
night, not once!
ESTRAGON:
(sadly). You see, you piss better when I'm not
there.
VLADIMIR:
I missed you . . . and at the same time I was happy.
Isn't that a strange thing?
ESTRAGON:
(shocked). Happy?
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps it's not quite the right word.
ESTRAGON:
And now?
VLADIMIR:
Now? . . . (Joyous.) There you are again . . .
(Indifferent.) There we are again. . . (Gloomy.)
There I am again.
ESTRAGON:
You see, you feel worse when I'm with you. I feel
better alone too.
VLADIMIR:
(vexed). Then why do you always come crawling back?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
No, but I do. It's because you don't know how to
defend yourself. I wouldn't have let them beat you.
ESTRAGON:
You couldn't have stopped them.
VLADIMIR:
Why not?
ESTRAGON:
There was ten of them.
VLADIMIR:
No, I mean before they beat you. I would have
stopped you from doing whatever it was you were
doing.
ESTRAGON:
I wasn't doing anything.
VLADIMIR:
Then why did they beat you?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
Ah no, Gogo, the truth is there are things that
escape you that don't escape me, you must feel it
yourself.
ESTRAGON:
I tell you I wasn't doing anything.
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps you weren't. But it's the way of doing it
that counts, the way of doing it, if you want to go
on living.
ESTRAGON:
I wasn't doing anything.
VLADIMIR:
You must be happy too, deep down, if you only knew
it.
ESTRAGON:
Happy about what?
VLADIMIR:
To be back with me again.
ESTRAGON:
Would you say so?
VLADIMIR:
Say you are, even if it's not true.
ESTRAGON:
What am I to say?
VLADIMIR:
Say, I am happy.
ESTRAGON:
I am happy.
VLADIMIR:
So am I.
ESTRAGON:
So am I.
VLADIMIR:
We are happy.
ESTRAGON:
We are happy. (Silence.) What do we do now, now that
we are happy?
VLADIMIR:
Wait for Godot. (Estragon groans. Silence.) Things
have changed here since yesterday.
ESTRAGON:
And if he doesn't come?
VLADIMIR:
(after a moment of bewilderment). We'll see when the
time comes. (Pause.) I was saying that things have
changed here since yesterday.
ESTRAGON:
Everything oozes.
VLADIMIR:
Look at the tree.
ESTRAGON:
It's never the same pus from one second to the next.
VLADIMIR:
The tree, look at the tree.
Estragon looks at the tree.
ESTRAGON:
Was it not there yesterday?
VLADIMIR:
Yes of course it was there. Do you not remember? We
nearly hanged ourselves from it. But you wouldn't.
Do you not remember?
ESTRAGON:
You dreamt it.
VLADIMIR:
Is it possible you've forgotten already?
ESTRAGON:
That's the way I am. Either I forget immediately or
I never forget.
VLADIMIR:
And Pozzo and Lucky, have you forgotten them too?
ESTRAGON:
Pozzo and Lucky?
VLADIMIR:
He's forgotten everything!
ESTRAGON:
I remember a lunatic who kicked the shins off me.
Then he played the fool.
VLADIMIR:
That was Lucky.
ESTRAGON:
I remember that. But when was it?
VLADIMIR:
And his keeper, do you not remember him?
ESTRAGON:
He gave me a bone.
VLADIMIR:
That was Pozzo.
ESTRAGON:
And all that was yesterday, you say?
VLADIMIR:
Yes of course it was yesterday.
ESTRAGON:
And here where we are now?
VLADIMIR:
Where else do you think? Do you not recognize the
place?
ESTRAGON:
(suddenly furious). Recognize! What is there to
recognize? All my lousy life I've crawled about in
the mud! And you talk to me about scenery! (Looking
wildly about him.) Look at this muckheap! I've never
stirred from it!
VLADIMIR:
Calm yourself, calm yourself.
ESTRAGON:
You and your landscapes! Tell me about the worms!
VLADIMIR:
All the same, you can't tell me that this (gesture)
bears any resemblance to . . . (he hesitates) . . .
to the Macon country for example. You can't deny
there's a big difference.
ESTRAGON:
The Macon country! Who's talking to you about the
Macon country?
VLADIMIR:
But you were there yourself, in the Macon country.
ESTRAGON:
No I was never in the Macon country! I've puked my
puke of a life away here, I tell you! Here! In the
Cackon country!
VLADIMIR:
But we were there together, I could swear to it!
Picking grapes for a man called . . . (he snaps his
fingers) . . . can't think of the name of the man,
at a place called . . . (snaps his fingers) . . .
can't think of the name of the place, do you not
remember?
ESTRAGON:
(a little calmer). It's possible. I didn't notice
anything.
VLADIMIR:
But down there everything is red!
ESTRAGON:
(exasperated). I didn't notice anything, I tell you!
Silence. Vladimir sighs deeply.
VLADIMIR:
You're a hard man to get on with, Gogo.
ESTRAGON:
It'd be better if we parted.
VLADIMIR:
You always say that and you always come crawling
back.
ESTRAGON:
The best thing would be to kill me, like the other.
VLADIMIR:
What other? (Pause.) What other?
ESTRAGON:
Like billions of others.
VLADIMIR:
(sententious). To every man his little cross. (He
sighs.) Till he dies. (Afterthought.) And is
forgotten.
ESTRAGON:
In the meantime let us try and converse calmly,
since we are incapable of keeping silent.
VLADIMIR:
You're right, we're inexhaustible.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't think.
VLADIMIR:
We have that excuse.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't hear.
VLADIMIR:
We have our reasons.
ESTRAGON:
All the dead voices.
VLADIMIR:
They make a noise like wings.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
VLADIMIR:
Like sand.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
They all speak at once.
ESTRAGON:
Each one to itself.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Rather they whisper.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
VLADIMIR:
They murmur.
ESTRAGON:
They rustle.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
What do they say?
ESTRAGON:
They talk about their lives.
VLADIMIR:
To have lived is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
They have to talk about it.
VLADIMIR:
To be dead is not enough for them.
ESTRAGON:
It is not sufficient.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
They make a noise like feathers.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
VLADIMIR:
Likes ashes.
ESTRAGON:
Like leaves.
Long silence.
VLADIMIR:
Say something!
ESTRAGON:
I'm trying.
Long silence.
VLADIMIR:
(in anguish). Say anything at all!
ESTRAGON:
What do we do now?
VLADIMIR:
Wait for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Ah!
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
This is awful!
ESTRAGON:
Sing something.
VLADIMIR:
No no! (He reflects.) We could start all over again
perhaps.
ESTRAGON:
That should be easy.
VLADIMIR:
It's the start that's difficult.
ESTRAGON:
You can start from anything.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, but you have to decide.
ESTRAGON:
True.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Help me!
ESTRAGON:
I'm trying.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
When you seek you hear.
ESTRAGON:
You do.
VLADIMIR:
That prevents you from finding.
ESTRAGON:
It does.
VLADIMIR:
That prevents you from thinking.
ESTRAGON:
You think all the same.
VLADIMIR:
No no, it's impossible.
ESTRAGON:
That's the idea, let's contradict each another.
VLADIMIR:
Impossible.
ESTRAGON:
You think so?
VLADIMIR:
We're in no danger of ever thinking any more.
ESTRAGON:
Then what are we complaining about?
VLADIMIR:
Thinking is not the worst.
ESTRAGON:
Perhaps not. But at least there's that.
VLADIMIR:
That what?
ESTRAGON:
That's the idea, let's ask each other questions.
VLADIMIR:
What do you mean, at least there's that?
ESTRAGON:
That much less misery.
VLADIMIR:
True.
ESTRAGON:
Well? If we gave thanks for our mercies?
VLADIMIR:
What is terrible is to have thought.
ESTRAGON:
But did that ever happen to us?
VLADIMIR:
Where are all these corpses from?
ESTRAGON:
These skeletons.
VLADIMIR:
Tell me that.
ESTRAGON:
True.
VLADIMIR:
We must have thought a little.
ESTRAGON:
At the very beginning.
VLADIMIR:
A charnel-house! A charnel-house!
ESTRAGON:
You don't have to look.
VLADIMIR:
You can't help looking.
ESTRAGON:
True.
VLADIMIR:
Try as one may.
ESTRAGON:
I beg your pardon?
VLADIMIR:
Try as one may.
ESTRAGON:
We should turn resolutely towards Nature.
VLADIMIR:
We've tried that.
ESTRAGON:
True.
VLADIMIR:
Oh it's not the worst, I know.
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
To have thought.
ESTRAGON:
Obviously.
VLADIMIR:
But we could have done without it.
ESTRAGON:
Que voulez-vous?
VLADIMIR:
I beg your pardon?
ESTRAGON:
Que voulez-vouz.
VLADIMIR:
Ah! que voulez-vous. Exactly.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
That wasn't such a bad little canter.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, but now we'll have to find something else.
ESTRAGON:
Let me see.
He takes off his hat, concentrates.
VLADIMIR:
Let me see. (He takes off his hat, concentrates.
Long silence.) Ah!
They put on their hats, relax.
ESTRAGON:
Well?
VLADIMIR:
What was I saying, we could go on from there.
ESTRAGON:
What were you saying when?
VLADIMIR:
At the very beginning.
ESTRAGON:
The very beginning of WHAT?
VLADIMIR:
This evening . . . I was saying . . . I was saying .
. .
ESTRAGON:
I'm not a historian.
VLADIMIR:
Wait . . . we embraced . . . we were happy . . .
happy . . . what do we do now that we're happy . . .
go on waiting . . . waiting . . . let me think . . .
it's coming . . . go on waiting . . . now that we're
happy . . . let me see . . . ah! The tree!
ESTRAGON:
The tree?
VLADIMIR:
Do you not remember?
ESTRAGON:
I'm tired.
VLADIMIR:
Look at it.
They look at the tree.
ESTRAGON:
I see nothing.
VLADIMIR:
But yesterday evening it was all black and bare. And
now it's covered with leaves.
ESTRAGON:
Leaves?
VLADIMIR:
In a single night.
ESTRAGON:
It must be the Spring.
VLADIMIR:
But in a single night!
ESTRAGON:
I tell you we weren't here yesterday. Another of
your nightmares.
VLADIMIR:
And where were we yesterday evening according to
you?
ESTRAGON:
How would I know? In another compartment. There's no
lack of void.
VLADIMIR:
(sure of himself). Good. We weren't here yesterday
evening. Now what did we do yesterday evening?
ESTRAGON:
Do?
VLADIMIR:
Try and remember.
ESTRAGON:
Do . . . I suppose we blathered.
VLADIMIR:
(controlling himself). About what?
ESTRAGON:
Oh . . . this and that I suppose, nothing in
particular. (With assurance.) Yes, now I remember,
yesterday evening we spent blathering about nothing
in particular. That's been going on now for half a
century.
VLADIMIR:
You don't remember any fact, any circumstance?
ESTRAGON:
(weary). Don't torment me, Didi.
VLADIMIR:
The sun. The moon. Do you not remember?
ESTRAGON:
They must have been there, as usual.
VLADIMIR:
You didn't notice anything out of the ordinary?
ESTRAGON:
Alas!
VLADIMIR:
And Pozzo? And Lucky?
ESTRAGON:
Pozzo?
VLADIMIR:
The bones.
ESTRAGON:
They were like fishbones.
VLADIMIR:
It was Pozzo gave them to you.
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
And the kick.
ESTRAGON:
That's right, someone gave me a kick.
VLADIMIR:
It was Lucky gave it to you.
ESTRAGON:
And all that was yesterday?
VLADIMIR:
Show me your leg.
ESTRAGON:
Which?
VLADIMIR:
Both. Pull up your trousers. (Estragon gives a leg
to Vladimir, staggers. Vladimir takes the leg. They
stagger.) Pull up your trousers.
ESTRAGON:
I can't.
Vladimir pulls up the trousers, looks at the leg,
lets it go. Estragon almost falls.
VLADIMIR:
The other. (Estragon gives the same leg.) The other,
pig! (Estragon gives the other leg. Triumphantly.)
There's the wound! Beginning to fester!
ESTRAGON:
And what about it?
VLADIMIR:
(letting go the leg). Where are your boots?
ESTRAGON:
I must have thrown them away.
VLADIMIR:
When?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
Why?
ESTRAGON:
(exasperated). I don't know why I don't know!
VLADIMIR:
No, I mean why did you throw them away?
ESTRAGON:
(exasperated). Because they were hurting me!
VLADIMIR:
(triumphantly, pointing to the boots). There they
are! (Estragon looks at the boots.) At the very spot
where you left them yesterday!
Estragon goes towards the boots, inspects them
closely.
ESTRAGON:
They're not mine.
VLADIMIR:
(stupefied). Not yours!
ESTRAGON:
Mine were black. These are brown.
VLADIMIR:
You're sure yours were black?
ESTRAGON:
Well they were a kind of gray.
VLADIMIR:
And these are brown. Show me.
ESTRAGON:
(picking up a boot). Well they're a kind of green.
VLADIMIR:
Show me. (Estragon hands him the boot. Vladimir
inspects it, throws it down angrily.) Well of all
the—
ESTRAGON:
You see, all that's a lot of bloody—
VLADIMIR:
Ah! I see what it is. Yes, I see what's happened.
ESTRAGON:
All that's a lot of bloody—
VLADIMIR:
It's elementary. Someone came and took yours and
left you his.
ESTRAGON:
Why?
VLADIMIR:
His were too tight for him, so he took yours.
ESTRAGON:
But mine were too tight.
VLADIMIR:
For you. Not for him.
ESTRAGON:
(having tried in vain to work it out). I'm tired!
(Pause.) Let's go.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We're waiting for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Ah! (Pause. Despairing.) What'll we do, what'll we
do!
VLADIMIR:
There's nothing we can do.
ESTRAGON:
But I can't go on like this!
VLADIMIR:
Would you like a radish?
ESTRAGON:
Is that all there is?
VLADIMIR:
There are radishes and turnips.
ESTRAGON:
Are there no carrots?
VLADIMIR:
No. Anyway you overdo it with your carrots.
ESTRAGON:
Then give me a radish. (Vladimir fumbles in his
pockets, finds nothing but turnips, finally brings
out a radish and hands it to Estragon who examines
it, sniffs it.) It's black!
VLADIMIR:
It's a radish.
ESTRAGON:
I only like the pink ones, you know that!
VLADIMIR:
Then you don't want it?
ESTRAGON:
I only like the pink ones!
VLADIMIR:
Then give it back to me.
Estragon gives it back.
ESTRAGON:
I'll go and get a carrot.
He does not move.
VLADIMIR:
This is becoming really insignificant.
ESTRAGON:
Not enough.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
What about trying them.
ESTRAGON:
I've tried everything.
VLADIMIR:
No, I mean the boots.
ESTRAGON:
Would that be a good thing?
VLADIMIR:
It'd pass the time. (Estragon hesitates.) I assure
you, it'd be an occupation.
ESTRAGON:
A relaxation.
VLADIMIR:
A recreation.
ESTRAGON:
A relaxation.
VLADIMIR:
Try.
ESTRAGON:
You'll help me?
VLADIMIR:
I will of course.
ESTRAGON:
We don't manage too badly, eh Didi, between the two
of us?
VLADIMIR:
Yes yes. Come on, we'll try the left first.
ESTRAGON:
We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the
impression we exist?
VLADIMIR:
(impatiently). Yes yes, we're magicians. But let us
persevere in what we have resolved, before we
forget. (He picks up a boot.) Come on, give me your
foot. (Estragon raises his foot.) The other, hog!
(Estragon raises the other foot.) Higher!
(Wreathed together they stagger about the stage.
Vladimir succeeds finally in getting on the boot.)
Try and walk. (Estragon walks.) Well?
ESTRAGON:
It fits.
VLADIMIR:
(taking string from his pocket). We'll try and lace
it.
ESTRAGON:
(vehemently). No no, no laces, no laces!
VLADIMIR:
You'll be sorry. Let's try the other. (As before.)
Well?
ESTRAGON:
(grudgingly). It fits too.
VLADIMIR:
They don't hurt you?
ESTRAGON:
Not yet.
VLADIMIR:
Then you can keep them.
ESTRAGON:
They're too big.
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps you'll have socks some day.
ESTRAGON:
True.
VLADIMIR:
Then you'll keep them?
ESTRAGON:
That's enough about these boots.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, but—
ESTRAGON:
(violently). Enough! (Silence.) I suppose I might as
well sit down.
He looks for a place to sit down, then goes and sits
down on the mound.
VLADIMIR:
That's where you were sitting yesterday evening.
ESTRAGON:
If I could only sleep.
VLADIMIR:
Yesterday you slept.
ESTRAGON:
I'll try.
He resumes his foetal posture, his head between his
knees.
VLADIMIR:
Wait. (He goes over and sits down beside Estragon
and begins to sing in a loud voice.)
Bye bye bye bye
Bye bye–
ESTRAGON:
(looking up angrily). Not so loud!
VLADIMIR:
(softly).
Bye bye bye bye
Bye bye bye bye
Bye bye bye bye
Bye bye . . .
Estragon sleeps. Vladimir gets up softly, takes off
his coat and lays it across Estragon's shoulders,
then starts walking up and down, swinging his arms
to keep himself warm. Estragon wakes with a start,
jumps up, casts about wildly. Vladimir runs to him,
puts his arms around him.) There . . . there . . .
Didi is here . . . don't be afraid . . .
ESTRAGON:
Ah!
VLADIMIR:
There . . . there . . . it's all over.
ESTRAGON:
I was falling—
VLADIMIR:
It's all over, it's all over.
ESTRAGON:
I was on top of a—
VLADIMIR:
Don't tell me! Come, we'll walk it off.
He takes Estragon by the arm and walks him up and
down until Estragon refuses to go any further.
ESTRAGON:
That's enough. I'm tired.
VLADIMIR:
You'd rather be stuck there doing nothing?
ESTRAGON:
Yes.
VLADIMIR:
Please yourself.
He releases Estragon, picks up his coat and puts it
on.
ESTRAGON:
Let's go.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We're waiting for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Ah! (Vladimir walks up and down.) Can you not stay
still?
VLADIMIR:
I'm cold.
ESTRAGON:
We came too soon.
VLADIMIR:
It's always at nightfall.
ESTRAGON:
But night doesn't fall.
VLADIMIR:
It'll fall all of a sudden, like yesterday.
ESTRAGON:
Then it'll be night.
VLADIMIR:
And we can go.
ESTRAGON:
Then it'll be day again. (Pause. Despairing.)
What'll we do, what'll we do!
VLADIMIR:
(halting, violently). Will you stop whining! I've
had about my bellyful of your lamentations!
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
VLADIMIR:
(seeing Lucky's hat). Well!
ESTRAGON:
Farewell.
VLADIMIR:
Lucky's hat. (He goes towards it.) I've been here an
hour and never saw it. (Very pleased.) Fine!
ESTRAGON:
You'll never see me again.
VLADIMIR:
I knew it was the right place. Now our troubles are
over. (He picks up the hat, contemplates it,
straightens it.) Must have been a very fine hat. (He
puts it on in place of his own which he hands to
Estragon.) Here.
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
Hold that.
Estragon takes Vladimir's hat. Vladimir adjusts
Lucky's hat on his head. Estragon puts on Vladimir's
hat in place of his own which he hands to Vladimir.
Vladimir takes Estragon's hat. Estragon adjusts
Vladimir's hat on his head. Vladimir puts on
Estragon's hat in place of Lucky's which he hands to
Estragon. Estragon takes Lucky's hat. Vladimir
adjusts Estragon's hat on his head. Estragon puts on
Lucky's hat in place of Vladimir's which he hands to
Vladimir. Vladimir takes his hat, Estragon adjusts
Lucky's hat on his head. Vladimir puts on his hat in
place of Estragon's which he hands to Estragon.
Estragon takes his hat. Vladimir adjusts his hat on
his head. Estragon puts on his hat in place of
Lucky's which he hands to Vladimir. Vladimir takes
Lucky's hat. Estragon adjusts his hat on his head.
Vladimir puts on Lucky's hat in place of his own
which he hands to Estragon. Estragon takes
Vladimir's hat. Vladimir adjusts Lucky's hat on his
head. Estragon hands Vladimir's hat back to Vladimir
who takes it and hands it back to Estragon who takes
it and hands it back to Vladimir who takes it and
throws it down.
How does it fit me?
ESTRAGON:
How would I know?
VLADIMIR:
No, but how do I look in it?
He turns his head coquettishly to and fro, minces
like a mannequin.
ESTRAGON:
Hideous.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, but not more so than usual?
ESTRAGON:
Neither more nor less.
VLADIMIR:
Then I can keep it. Mine irked me. (Pause.) How
shall I say? (Pause.) It itched me.
He takes off Lucky's hat, peers into it, shakes it,
knocks on the crown, puts it on again.
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Will you not play?
ESTRAGON:
Play at what?
VLADIMIR:
We could play at Pozzo and Lucky.
ESTRAGON:
Never heard of it.
VLADIMIR:
I'll do Lucky, you do Pozzo. (He imitates Lucky
sagging under the weight of his baggage. Estragon
looks at him with stupefaction.) Go on.
ESTRAGON:
What am I to do?
VLADIMIR:
Curse me!
ESTRAGON:
(after reflection). Naughty!
VLADIMIR:
Stronger!
ESTRAGON:
Gonococcus! Spirochete!
Vladimir sways back and forth, doubled in two.
VLADIMIR:
Tell me to think.
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
Say, Think, pig!
ESTRAGON:
Think, pig!
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
I can't.
ESTRAGON:
That's enough of that.
VLADIMIR:
Tell me to dance.
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
VLADIMIR:
Dance, hog! (He writhes. Exit Estragon left,
precipitately.) I can't! (He looks up, misses
Estragon.) Gogo! (He moves wildly about the stage.
Enter Estragon left, panting. He hastens towards
Vladimir, falls into his arms.) There you are again
at last!
ESTRAGON:
I'm accursed!
VLADIMIR:
Where were you? I thought you were gone for ever.
ESTRAGON:
They're coming!
VLADIMIR:
Who?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
How many?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
(triumphantly). It's Godot! At last! Gogo! It's
Godot! We're saved! Let's go and meet him! (He drags
Estragon towards the wings. Estragon resists, pulls
himself free, exit right.) Gogo! Come back!
(Vladimir runs to extreme left, scans the horizon.
Enter Estragon right, he hastens towards Vladimir,
falls into his arms.) There you are again again!
ESTRAGON:
I'm in hell!
VLADIMIR:
Where were you?
ESTRAGON:
They're coming there too!
VLADIMIR:
We're surrounded! (Estragon makes a rush towards
back.) Imbecile! There's no way out there. (He takes
Estragon by the arm and drags him towards front.
Gesture towards front.) There! Not a soul in sight!
Off you go! Quick! (He pushes Estragon towards
auditorium. Estragon recoils in horror.) You won't?
(He contemplates auditorium.) Well I can understand
that. Wait till I see. (He reflects.) Your only hope
left is to disappear.
ESTRAGON:
Where?
VLADIMIR:
Behind the tree. (Estragon hesitates.) Quick! Behind
the tree. (Estragon goes and crouches behind the
tree, realizes he is not hidden, comes out from
behind the tree.) Decidedly this tree will not have
been the slightest use to us.
ESTRAGON:
(calmer). I lost my head. Forgive me. It won't
happen again. Tell me what to do.
VLADIMIR:
There's nothing to do.
ESTRAGON:
You go and stand there. (He draws Vladimir to
extreme right and places him with his back to the
stage.) There, don't move, and watch out. (Vladimir
scans horizon, screening his eyes with his hand.
Estragon runs and takes up same position extreme
left. They turn their heads and look at each other.)
Back to back like in the good old days. (They
continue to look at each other for a moment, then
resume their watch. Long silence.) Do you see
anything coming?
VLADIMIR:
(turning his head). What?
ESTRAGON:
(louder). Do you see anything coming?
VLADIMIR:
No.
ESTRAGON:
Nor I.
They resume their watch. Silence.
VLADIMIR:
You must have had a vision.
ESTRAGON:
(turning his head). What?
VLADIMIR:
(louder). You must have had a vision.
ESTRAGON:
No need to shout!
They resume their watch. Silence.
VLADIMIR and ESTRAGON:
(turning simultaneously). Do you—
VLADIMIR:
Oh pardon!
ESTRAGON:
Carry on.
VLADIMIR:
No no, after you.
ESTRAGON:
No no, you first.
VLADIMIR:
I interrupted you.
ESTRAGON:
On the contrary.
They glare at each other angrily.
VLADIMIR:
Ceremonious ape!
ESTRAGON:
Punctilious pig!
VLADIMIR:
Finish your phrase, I tell you!
ESTRAGON:
Finish your own!
Silence. They draw closer, halt.
VLADIMIR:
Moron!
ESTRAGON:
That's the idea, let's abuse each other.
They turn, move apart, turn again and face each
other.
VLADIMIR:
Moron!
ESTRAGON:
Vermin!
VLADIMIR:
Abortion!
ESTRAGON:
Morpion!
VLADIMIR:
Sewer-rat!
ESTRAGON:
Curate!
VLADIMIR:
Cretin!
ESTRAGON:
(with finality). Crritic!
VLADIMIR:
Oh!
He wilts, vanquished, and turns away.
ESTRAGON:
Now let's make it up.
VLADIMIR:
Gogo!
ESTRAGON:
Didi!
VLADIMIR:
Your hand!
ESTRAGON:
Take it!
VLADIMIR:
Come to my arms!
ESTRAGON:
Yours arms?
VLADIMIR:
My breast!
ESTRAGON:
Off we go!
They embrace.
They separate. Silence.
VLADIMIR:
How time flies when one has fun!
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
What do we do now?
VLADIMIR:
While waiting.
ESTRAGON:
While waiting.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
We could do our exercises.
ESTRAGON:
Our movements.
VLADIMIR:
Our elevations.
ESTRAGON:
Our relaxations.
VLADIMIR:
Our elongations.
ESTRAGON:
Our relaxations.
VLADIMIR:
To warm us up.
ESTRAGON:
To calm us down.
VLADIMIR:
Off we go.
Vladimir hops from one foot to the other. Estragon
imitates him.
ESTRAGON:
(stopping). That's enough. I'm tired.
VLADIMIR:
(stopping). We're not in form. What about a little
deep breathing?
ESTRAGON:
I'm tired breathing.
VLADIMIR:
You're right. (Pause.) Let's just do the tree, for
the balance.
ESTRAGON:
The tree?
Vladimir does the tree, staggering about on one leg.
VLADIMIR:
(stopping). Your turn.
Estragon does the tree, staggers.
ESTRAGON:
Do you think God sees me?
VLADIMIR:
You must close your eyes.
Estragon closes his eyes, staggers worse.
ESTRAGON:
(stopping, brandishing his fists, at the top of his
voice.) God have pity on me!
VLADIMIR:
(vexed). And me?
ESTRAGON:
On me! On me! Pity! On me!
Enter Pozzo and Lucky. Pozzo is blind. Lucky
burdened as before. Rope as before, but much
shorter, so that Pozzo may follow more easily. Lucky
wearing a different hat. At the sight of Vladimir
and Estragon he stops short. Pozzo, continuing on
his way, bumps into him.
VLADIMIR:
Gogo!
POZZO:
(clutching onto Lucky who staggers). What is it? Who
is it?
Lucky falls, drops everything and brings down Pozzo
with him. They lie helpless among the scattered
baggage.
ESTRAGON:
Is it Godot?
VLADIMIR:
At last! (He goes towards the heap.) Reinforcements
at last!
POZZO:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
Is it Godot?
VLADIMIR:
We were beginning to weaken. Now we're sure to see
the evening out.
POZZO:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
Do you hear him?
VLADIMIR:
We are no longer alone, waiting for the night,
waiting for Godot, waiting for . . . waiting. All
evening we have struggled, unassisted. Now it's
over. It's already tomorrow.
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
Time flows again already. The sun will set, the moon
rise, and we away . . . from here.
POZZO:
Pity!
VLADIMIR:
Poor Pozzo!
ESTRAGON:
I knew it was him.
VLADIMIR:
Who?
ESTRAGON:
Godot.
VLADIMIR:
But it's not Godot.
ESTRAGON:
It's not Godot?
VLADIMIR:
It's not Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Then who is it?
VLADIMIR:
It's Pozzo.
POZZO:
Here! Here! Help me up!
VLADIMIR:
He can't get up.
ESTRAGON:
Let's go.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We're waiting for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Ah!
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps he has another bone for you.
ESTRAGON:
Bone?
VLADIMIR:
Chicken. Do you not remember?
ESTRAGON:
It was him?
VLADIMIR:
Yes.
ESTRAGON:
Ask him.
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps we should help him first.
ESTRAGON:
To do what?
VLADIMIR:
To get up.
ESTRAGON:
He can't get up?
VLADIMIR:
He wants to get up.
ESTRAGON:
Then let him get up.
VLADIMIR:
He can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know.
Pozzo writhes, groans, beats the ground with his
fists.
ESTRAGON:
We should ask him for the bone first. Then if he
refuses we'll leave him there.
VLADIMIR:
You mean we have him at our mercy?
ESTRAGON:
Yes.
VLADIMIR:
And that we should subordinate our good offices to
certain conditions?
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
That seems intelligent all right. But there's one
thing I'm afraid of.
POZZO:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
That Lucky might get going all of a sudden. Then
we'd be ballocksed.
ESTRAGON:
Lucky?
VLADIMIR:
The one that went for you yesterday.
ESTRAGON:
I tell you there was ten of them.
VLADIMIR:
No, before that, the one that kicked you.
ESTRAGON:
Is he there?
VLADIMIR:
As large as life. (Gesture towards Lucky.) For the
moment he is inert. But he might run amuck any
minute.
POZZO:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
And suppose we gave him a good beating, the two of
us.
VLADIMIR:
You mean if we fell on him in his sleep?
ESTRAGON:
Yes.
VLADIMIR:
That seems a good idea all right. But could we do
it? Is he really asleep? (Pause.) No, the best would
be to take advantage of Pozzo's calling for help—
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
To help him—
ESTRAGON:
We help him?
VLADIMIR:
In anticipation of some tangible return.
ESTRAGON:
And suppose he—
VLADIMIR:
Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! (Pause.
Vehemently.) Let us do something, while we have the
chance! It is not every day that we are needed. Not
indeed that we personally are needed. Others would
meet the case equally well, if not better. To all
mankind they were addressed, those cries for help
still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at
this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we
like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before
it is too late! Let us represent worthily for once
the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us!
What do you say? (Estragon says nothing.) It is true
that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and
cons we are no less a credit to our species. The
tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without
the least reflection, or else he slinks away into
the depths of the thickets. But that is not the
question. What are we doing here, that is the
question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen
to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion
one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot
to come—
ESTRAGON:
Ah!
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
Or for night to fall. (Pause.) We have kept our
appointment and that's an end to that. We are not
saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many
people can boast as much?
ESTRAGON:
Billions.
VLADIMIR:
You think so?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
You may be right.
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
All I know is that the hours are long, under these
conditions, and constrain us to beguile them with
proceedings which –how shall I say– which may at
first sight seem reasonable, until they become a
habit. You may say it is to prevent our reason from
foundering. No doubt. But has it not long been
straying in the night without end of the abyssal
depths? That's what I sometimes wonder. You follow
my reasoning?
ESTRAGON:
(aphoristic for once). We are all born mad. Some
remain so.
POZZO:
Help! I'll pay you!
ESTRAGON:
How much?
POZZO:
One hundred francs!
ESTRAGON:
It's not enough.
VLADIMIR:
I wouldn't go so far as that.
ESTRAGON:
You think it's enough?
VLADIMIR:
No, I mean so far as to assert that I was weak in
the head when I came into the world. But that is not
the question.
POZZO:
Two hundred!
VLADIMIR:
We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No,
don't protest, we are bored to death, there's no
denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what
do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let's get to
work! (He advances towards the heap, stops in his
stride.) In an instant all will vanish and we'll be
alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!
He broods.
POZZO:
Two hundred!
VLADIMIR:
We're coming!
He tries to pull Pozzo to his feet, fails, tries
again, stumbles, falls, tries to get up, fails.
ESTRAGON:
What's the matter with you all?
VLADIMIR:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
VLADIMIR:
Don't leave me! They'll kill me!
POZZO:
Where am I?
VLADIMIR:
Gogo!
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
VLADIMIR:
Help me up first, then we'll go together.
ESTRAGON:
You promise?
VLADIMIR:
I swear it!
ESTRAGON:
And we'll never come back?
VLADIMIR:
Never!
ESTRAGON:
We'll go to the Pyrenees.
VLADIMIR:
Wherever you like.
ESTRAGON:
I've always wanted to wander in the Pyrenees.
VLADIMIR:
You'll wander in them.
ESTRAGON:
(recoiling). Who farted?
VLADIMIR:
Pozzo.
POZZO:
Here! Here! Pity!
ESTRAGON:
It's revolting!
VLADIMIR:
Quick! Give me your hand!
ESTRAGON:
I'm going. (Pause. Louder.) I'm going.
VLADIMIR:
Well I suppose in the end I'll get up by myself. (He
tries, fails.) In the fullness of time.
ESTRAGON:
What's the matter with you?
VLADIMIR:
Go to hell.
ESTRAGON:
Are you staying there?
VLADIMIR:
For the time being.
ESTRAGON:
Come on, get up, you'll catch a chill.
VLADIMIR:
Don't worry about me.
ESTRAGON:
Come on, Didi, don't be pig-headed!
He stretches out his hand which Vladimir makes haste
to seize.
VLADIMIR:
Pull!
Estragon pulls, stumbles, falls. Long silence.
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
We've arrived.
POZZO:
Who are you?
VLADIMIR:
We are men.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Sweet mother earth!
VLADIMIR:
Can you get up?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
Try.
ESTRAGON:
Not now, not now.
Silence.
POZZO:
What happened?
VLADIMIR:
(violently). Will you stop it, you! Pest! He can
think of nothing but himself!
ESTRAGON:
What about a little snooze?
VLADIMIR:
Did you hear him? He wants to know what happened!
ESTRAGON:
Don't mind him. Sleep.
Silence.
POZZO:
Pity! Pity!
ESTRAGON:
(with a start). What is it?
VLADIMIR:
Were you asleep?
ESTRAGON:
I must have been.
VLADIMIR:
It's this bastard Pozzo at it again.
ESTRAGON:
Make him stop it. Kick him in the crotch.
VLADIMIR:
(striking Pozzo). Will you stop it! Crablouse! (Pozzo
extricates himself with cries of pain and crawls
away. He stops, saws the air blindly, calling for
help. Vladimir, propped on his elbow, observes his
retreat.) He's off! (Pozzo collapses.) He's down!
ESTRAGON:
What do we do now?
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps I could crawl to him.
ESTRAGON:
Don't leave me!
VLADIMIR:
Or I could call to him.
ESTRAGON:
Yes, call to him.
VLADIMIR:
Pozzo! (Silence.) Pozzo! (Silence.) No reply.
ESTRAGON:
Together.
VLADIMIR and ESTRAGON:
Pozzo! Pozzo!
VLADIMIR:
He moved.
ESTRAGON:
Are you sure his name is Pozzo?
VLADIMIR:
(alarmed). Mr. Pozzo! Come back! We won't hurt you!
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
We might try him with other names.
VLADIMIR:
I'm afraid he's dying.
ESTRAGON:
It'd be amusing.
VLADIMIR:
What'd be amusing?
ESTRAGON:
To try him with other names, one after the other.
It'd pass the time. And we'd be bound to hit on the
right one sooner or later.
VLADIMIR:
I tell you his name is Pozzo.
ESTRAGON:
We'll soon see. (He reflects.) Abel! Abel!
POZZO:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
Got it in one!
VLADIMIR:
I begin to weary of this motif.
ESTRAGON:
Perhaps the other is called Cain. Cain! Cain!
POZZO:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
He's all humanity. (Silence.) Look at the little
cloud.
VLADIMIR:
(raising his eyes). Where?
ESTRAGON:
There. In the zenith.
VLADIMIR:
Well? (Pause.) What is there so wonderful about it?
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Let's pass on now to something else, do you mind?
VLADIMIR:
I was just going to suggest it.
ESTRAGON:
But to what?
VLADIMIR:
Ah!
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Suppose we got up to begin with?
VLADIMIR:
No harm trying.
They get up.
ESTRAGON:
Child's play.
VLADIMIR:
Simple question of will-power.
ESTRAGON:
And now?
POZZO:
Help!
ESTRAGON:
Let's go.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We're waiting for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Ah! (Despairing.) What'll we do, what'll we do!
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
What about helping him?
ESTRAGON:
What does he want?
VLADIMIR:
He wants to get up.
ESTRAGON:
Then why doesn't he?
VLADIMIR:
He wants us to help him get up.
ESTRAGON:
Then why don't we? What are we waiting for?
They help Pozzo to his feet, let him go. He falls.
VLADIMIR:
We must hold him. (They get him up again. Pozzo sags
between them, his arms round their necks.)
Feeling better?
POZZO:
Who are you?
VLADIMIR:
Do you not recognize us?
POZZO:
I am blind.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Perhaps he can see into the future.
VLADIMIR:
Since when?
POZZO:
I used to have wonderful sight— but are you friends?
ESTRAGON:
(laughing noisily). He wants to know if we are
friends!
VLADIMIR:
No, he means friends of his.
ESTRAGON:
Well?
VLADIMIR:
We've proved we are, by helping him.
ESTRAGON:
Exactly. Would we have helped him if we weren't his
friends?
VLADIMIR:
Possibly.
ESTRAGON:
True.
VLADIMIR:
Don't let's quibble about that now.
POZZO:
You are not highwaymen?
ESTRAGON:
Highwaymen! Do we look like highwaymen?
VLADIMIR:
Damn it, can't you see the man is blind!
ESTRAGON:
Damn it, so he is. (Pause.) So he says.
POZZO:
Don't leave me!
VLADIMIR:
No question of it.
ESTRAGON:
For the moment.
POZZO:
What time is it?
VLADIMIR:
(inspecting the sky). Seven o'clock . . . eight
o'clock . . .
ESTRAGON:
That depends what time of year it is.
POZZO:
Is it evening?
Silence. Vladimir and Estragon scrutinize the
sunset.
ESTRAGON:
It's rising.
VLADIMIR:
Impossible.
ESTRAGON:
Perhaps it's the dawn.
VLADIMIR:
Don't be a fool. It's the west over there.
ESTRAGON:
How do you know?
POZZO:
(anguished). Is it evening?
VLADIMIR:
Anyway, it hasn't moved.
ESTRAGON:
I tell you it's rising.
POZZO:
Why don't you answer me?
ESTRAGON:
Give us a chance.
VLADIMIR:
(reassuring). It's evening, Sir, it's evening, night
is drawing nigh. My friend here would have me doubt
it and I must confess he shook me for a moment. But
it is not for nothing I have lived through this long
day and I can assure you it is very near the end of
its repertory. (Pause.) How do you feel now?
ESTRAGON:
How much longer are we to cart him around? (They
half release him, catch him again as he falls.) We
are not caryatids!
VLADIMIR:
You were saying your sight used to be good, if I
heard you right.
POZZO:
Wonderful! Wonderful, wonderful sight!
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
(irritably). Expand! Expand!
VLADIMIR:
Let him alone. Can't you see he's thinking of the
days when he was happy. (Pause.) Memoria
praeteritorum bonorum— that must be unpleasant.
ESTRAGON:
We wouldn't know.
VLADIMIR:
And it came on you all of a sudden?
POZZO:
Quite wonderful!
VLADIMIR:
I'm asking you if it came on you all of a sudden.
POZZO:
I woke up one fine day as blind as Fortune. (Pause.)
Sometimes I wonder if I'm not still asleep.
VLADIMIR:
And when was that?
POZZO:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
But no later than yesterday—
POZZO:
(violently). Don't question me! The blind have no
notion of time. The things of time are hidden from
them too.
VLADIMIR:
Well just fancy that! I could have sworn it was just
the opposite.
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
POZZO:
Where are we?
VLADIMIR:
I couldn't tell you.
POZZO:
It isn't by any chance the place known as the Board?
VLADIMIR:
Never heard of it.
POZZO:
What is it like?
VLADIMIR:
(looking round). It's indescribable. It's like
nothing. There's nothing. There's a tree.
POZZO:
Then it's not the Board.
ESTRAGON:
(sagging). Some diversion!
POZZO:
Where is my menial?
VLADIMIR:
He's about somewhere.
POZZO:
Why doesn't he answer when I call?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know. He seems to be sleeping. Perhaps he's
dead.
POZZO:
What happened, exactly?
ESTRAGON:
Exactly!
VLADIMIR:
The two of you slipped. (Pause.) And fell.
POZZO:
Go and see is he hurt.
VLADIMIR:
We can't leave you.
POZZO:
You needn't both go.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). You go.
ESTRAGON:
After what he did to me? Never!
POZZO:
Yes yes, let your friend go, he stinks so.
(Silence.) What is he waiting for?
VLADIMIR:
What are you waiting for?
ESTRAGON:
I'm waiting for Godot.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
What exactly should he do?
POZZO:
Well to begin with he should pull on the rope, as
hard as he likes so long as he doesn't strangle him.
He usually responds to that. If not he should give
him a taste of his boot, in the face and the
privates as far as possible.
VLADIMIR:
(to Estragon). You see, you've nothing to be afraid
of. It's even an opportunity to revenge yourself.
ESTRAGON:
And if he defends himself?
POZZO:
No no, he never defends himself.
VLADIMIR:
I'll come flying to the rescue.
ESTRAGON:
Don't take your eyes off me.
He goes towards Lucky.
VLADIMIR:
Make sure he's alive before you start. No point in
exerting yourself if he's dead.
ESTRAGON:
(bending over Lucky). He's breathing.
VLADIMIR:
Then let him have it.
With sudden fury Estragon starts kicking Lucky,
hurling abuse at him as he does so. But he hurts his
foot and moves away, limping and groaning. Lucky
stirs.
ESTRAGON:
Oh the brute!
He sits down on the mound and tries to take off his
boot. But he soon desists and disposes himself for
sleep, his arms on his knees and his head on his
arms.
POZZO:
What's gone wrong now?
VLADIMIR:
My friend has hurt himself.
POZZO:
And Lucky?
VLADIMIR:
So it is he?
POZZO:
What?
VLADIMIR:
It is Lucky?
POZZO:
I don't understand.
VLADIMIR:
And you are Pozzo?
POZZO:
Certainly I am Pozzo.
VLADIMIR:
The same as yesterday?
POZZO:
Yesterday?
VLADIMIR:
We met yesterday. (Silence.) Do you not remember?
POZZO:
I don't remember having met anyone yesterday. But
tomorrow I won't remember having met anyone today.
So don't count on me to enlighten you.
VLADIMIR:
But—
POZZO:
Enough! Up pig!
VLADIMIR:
You were bringing him to the fair to sell him. You
spoke to us. He danced. He thought. You had your
sight.
POZZO:
As you please. Let me go! (Vladimir moves away.) Up!
Lucky gets up, gathers up his burdens.
VLADIMIR:
Where do you go from here?
POZZO:
On. (Lucky, laden down, takes his place before Pozzo.)
Whip! (Lucky puts everything down, looks for whip,
finds it, puts it into Pozzo's hand, takes up
everything again.) Rope!
Lucky puts everything down, puts end of rope into
Pozzo's hand, takes up everything again.
VLADIMIR:
What is there in the bag?
POZZO:
Sand. (He jerks the rope.) On!
VLADIMIR:
Don't go yet.
POZZO:
I'm going.
VLADIMIR:
What do you do when you fall far from help?
POZZO:
We wait till we can get up. Then we go on. On!
VLADIMIR:
Before you go tell him to sing.
POZZO:
Who?
VLADIMIR:
Lucky.
POZZO:
To sing?
VLADIMIR:
Yes. Or to think. Or to recite.
POZZO:
But he is dumb.
VLADIMIR:
Dumb!
POZZO:
Dumb. He can't even groan.
VLADIMIR:
Dumb! Since when?
POZZO:
(suddenly furious.) Have you not done tormenting me
with your accursed time! It's abominable! When!
When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day
he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go
deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die,
the same day, the same second, is that not enough
for you? (Calmer.) They give birth astride of a
grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night
once more. (He jerks the rope.) On!
Exeunt Pozzo and Lucky. Vladimir follows them to the
edge of the stage, looks after them. The noise of
falling, reinforced by mimic of Vladimir, announces
that they are down again. Silence. Vladimir goes
towards Estragon, contemplates him a moment, then
shakes him awake.
ESTRAGON:
(wild gestures, incoherent words. Finally.) Why will
you never let me sleep?
VLADIMIR:
I felt lonely.
ESTRAGON:
I was dreaming I was happy.
VLADIMIR:
That passed the time.
ESTRAGON:
I was dreaming that—
VLADIMIR:
(violently). Don't tell me! (Silence.) I wonder is
he really blind.
ESTRAGON:
Blind? Who?
VLADIMIR:
Pozzo.
ESTRAGON:
Blind?
VLADIMIR:
He told us he was blind.
ESTRAGON:
Well what about it?
VLADIMIR:
It seemed to me he saw us.
ESTRAGON:
You dreamt it. (Pause.) Let's go. We can't. Ah!
(Pause.) Are you sure it wasn't him?
VLADIMIR:
Who?
ESTRAGON:
Godot.
VLADIMIR:
But who?
ESTRAGON:
Pozzo.
VLADIMIR:
Not at all! (Less sure.) Not at all! (Still less
sure.) Not at all!
ESTRAGON:
I suppose I might as well get up. (He gets up
painfully.) Ow! Didi!
VLADIMIR:
I don't know what to think any more.
ESTRAGON:
My feet! (He sits down again and tries to take off
his boots.) Help me!
VLADIMIR:
Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I
sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do,
what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my
friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I
waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his
carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in
all that what truth will there be?
(Estragon, having struggled with his boots in vain,
is dozing off again. Vladimir looks at him.) He'll
know nothing. He'll tell me about the blows he
received and I'll give him a carrot. (Pause.)
Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in
the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the
forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full
of our cries. (He listens.) But habit is a great
deadener. (He looks again at Estragon.) At me too
someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He
is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on.
(Pause.) I can't go on! (Pause.) What have I said?
He goes feverishly to and fro, halts finally at
extreme left, broods. Enter Boy right. He halts.
Silence.
BOY:
Mister . . . (Vladimir turns.) Mister Albert . . .
VLADIMIR:
Off we go again. (Pause.) Do you not recognize me?
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
It wasn't you came yesterday.
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
This is your first time.
BOY:
Yes Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
You have a message from Mr. Godot.
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
He won't come this evening.
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
But he'll come tomorrow.
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Without fail.
BOY:
Yes Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Did you meet anyone?
BOY:
No Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Two other . . . (he hesitates) . . . men?
BOY:
I didn't see anyone, Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
What does he do, Mr. Godot? (Silence.) Do you hear
me? #
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Well?
BOY:
He does nothing, Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
How is your brother?
BOY:
He's sick, Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Perhaps it was he came yesterday.
BOY:
I don't know, Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
(softly). Has he a beard, Mr. Godot?
BOY:
Yes Sir.
VLADIMIR:
Fair or . . . (he hesitates) . . . or black?
BOY:
I think it's white, Sir.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Christ have mercy on us!
Silence.
BOY:
What am I to tell Mr. Godot, Sir?
VLADIMIR:
Tell him . . . (he hesitates) . . . tell him you saw
me and that . . . (he hesitates) . . . that you saw
me. (Pause. Vladimir advances, the Boy recoils.
Vladimir halts, the Boy halts. With sudden
violence.) You're sure you saw me, you won't come
and tell me tomorrow that you never saw me!
Silence. Vladimir makes a sudden spring forward, the
Boy avoids him and exits running. Silence. The sun
sets, the moon rises. As in Act 1. Vladimir stands
motionless and bowed. Estragon wakes, takes off his
boots, gets up with one in each hand and goes and
puts them down center front, then goes towards
Vladimir.
ESTRAGON:
What's wrong with you?
VLADIMIR:
Nothing.
ESTRAGON:
I'm going.
VLADIMIR:
So am I.
ESTRAGON:
Was I long asleep?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Where shall we go?
VLADIMIR:
Not far.
ESTRAGON:
Oh yes, let's go far away from here.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We have to come back tomorrow.
ESTRAGON:
What for?
VLADIMIR:
To wait for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Ah! (Silence.) He didn't come?
VLADIMIR:
No.
ESTRAGON:
And now it's too late.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, now it's night.
ESTRAGON:
And if we dropped him? (Pause.) If we dropped him?
VLADIMIR:
He'd punish us. (Silence. He looks at the tree.)
Everything's dead but the tree.
ESTRAGON:
(looking at the tree). What is it?
VLADIMIR:
It's the tree.
ESTRAGON:
Yes, but what kind?
VLADIMIR:
I don't know. A willow.
Estragon draws Vladimir towards the tree. They stand
motionless before it. Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Why don't we hang ourselves?
VLADIMIR:
With what?
ESTRAGON:
You haven't got a bit of rope?
VLADIMIR:
No.
ESTRAGON:
Then we can't.
Silence.
VLADIMIR:
Let's go.
ESTRAGON:
Wait, there's my belt.
VLADIMIR:
It's too short.
ESTRAGON:
You could hang onto my legs.
VLADIMIR:
And who'd hang onto mine?
ESTRAGON:
True.
VLADIMIR:
Show me all the same. (Estragon loosens the cord
that holds up his trousers which, much too big for
him, fall about his ankles. They look at the cord.)
It might do in a pinch. But is it strong enough?
ESTRAGON:
We'll soon see. Here.
They each take an end of the cord and pull.
It
breaks. They almost fall.
VLADIMIR:
Not worth a curse.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
You say we have to come back tomorrow?
VLADIMIR:
Yes.
ESTRAGON:
Then we can bring a good bit of rope.
VLADIMIR:
Yes.
Silence.
ESTRAGON:
Didi?
VLADIMIR:
Yes.
ESTRAGON:
I can't go on like this.
VLADIMIR:
That's what you think.
ESTRAGON:
If we parted? That might be better for us.
VLADIMIR:
We'll hang ourselves tomorrow. (Pause.) Unless Godot
comes.
ESTRAGON:
And if he comes?
VLADIMIR:
We'll be saved.
Vladimir takes off his hat (Lucky's), peers inside
it, feels about inside it, shakes it, knocks on the
crown, puts it on again.
ESTRAGON:
Well? Shall we go?
VLADIMIR:
Pull on your trousers.
ESTRAGON:
What?
VLADIMIR:
Pull on your trousers.
ESTRAGON:
You want me to pull off my trousers?
VLADIMIR:
Pull ON your trousers.
ESTRAGON:
(realizing his trousers are down). True.
He pulls up his trousers.
VLADIMIR:
Well? Shall we go?
ESTRAGON:
Yes, let's go.
They do not move.
Curtain.
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