Tom Stoppard Plays 1

by Tom Stoppard

  MOON: Faced as we are with such ubiquitous obliquity, it is hard, it is hard indeed, and therefore I will not attempt, to refrain from invoking the names of Kafka, Sartre, Shakespeare, St. Paul, Beckett, Birkett, Pinero, Pirandello, Dante and Dorothy L. Sayers.

  BIRDBOOT: A rattling good evening out. I was held.

  (The phone starts to ring on the empty stage. MOON tries to ignore it.)

  MOON: Harder still—— Harder still if possible—— Harder still if it is possible to be—— Neither do I find it easy——Dante and Dorothy L. Sayers. Harder still——

  BIRDBOOT: Others taking part included—Moon!

  (For MOON has lost patience and is bearing down on the ringing phone. He is frankly irritated.)

  MOON (picking up phone, barks): Hel-lo! (Pause, turns to BIRDBOOT, quietly.) It’s for you. (Pause.)

  (BIRDBOOT gets up. He approaches cautiously. MOON gives him the phone and moves back to his seat. BIRDBOOT watches him go. He looks round and smiles weakly, expiating himself.)

  BIRDBOOT (into phone): Hello…. (Explosion.) Oh, for God’s sake, Myrtle!—I’ve told you never to phone me at work! (He is naturally embarrassed, looking about with surreptitious fury.) What? Last night? Good God, woman, this is hardly the time to—I assure you, Myrtle, there is absolutely nothing going on between me and—I took her to dinner simply by way of keeping au fait with the world of the paint and the motley—— Yes, I promise—— Yes, I do—— Yes, I said yes—I do—and you are mine too, Myrtle—darling— I can’t— (whispers) I’m not alone—(up). No, she’s not!—(he looks around furtively, licks his lips and mumbles). All right! I love your little pink ears and you are my own fluffy bunny-boo—— Now for God’s sake—— Good-bye, Myrtle —(puts down phone).

  (BIRDBOOT mops his brow with his handkerchief. As he turns, a tennis ball bounces into through the french windows, followed by FELICITY, as before, in tennis outfit. The lighting is as it was. Everything is as it was. It is, let us say, the same moment of time.)

  FELICITY (calling): Out! (She catches sight of BIRDBOOT and is amazed.) You!

  BIRDBOOT: Er, yes—hello again.

  FELICITY: What are you doing here?!

  BIRDBOOT: Well, I …

  FELICITY: Honestly, darling, you really are extraordinary——

  BIRDBOOT: Yes, well, here I am. (He looks round sheepishly.)

  FELICITY: You must have been desperate to see me—I mean, I’m flattered, but couldn’t it wait till I got back?

  BIRDBOOT: No, no, you’ve got it all wrong——

  FELICITY: What is it?

  BIRDBOOT: And about last night—perhaps I gave you the wrong impression—got carried away a bit, perhaps——

  FELICITY (stiffly): What are you trying to say?

  BIRDBOOT: I want to call it off.

  FELICITY: I see.

  BIRDBOOT: I didn’t promise anything—and the fact is, I have my reputation—people do talk——

  FELICITY: You don’t have to say any more——

  BIRDBOOT: And my wife, too—I don’t know how she got to hear of it, but——

  FELICITY: Of all the nerve! To march in here and——

  BIRDBOOT: I’m sorry you had to find out like this—the fact is I didn’t mean it this way——

  FELICITY: You philandering coward!

  BIRDBOOT: I’m sorry—but I want you to know that I meant those things I said—oh yes—shows brilliant promise—I shall

  FELICITY: I’ll kill you for this, Simon Gascoyne!

  (She leaves in tears, passing MRS. DRUDGE who has entered in time to overhear her last remark.)

  BIRDBOOT (wide-eyed): Good God….

  MRS. DRUDGE: I have come to set up the card table, sir.

  BIRDBOOT (wildly): I can’t stay for a game of cards!

  MRS. DRUDGE: Oh, Lady Muldoon will be disappointed.

  BIRDBOOT: You mean … you mean, she wants to meet me…?

  MRS. DRUDGE: Oh yes, sir, I just told her and it put her in quite a tizzy.

  BIRDBOOT: Really? Yes, well, a man of my influence is not to be sneezed at—I think I have some small name for the making of reputations—mmm, yes, quite a tizzy, you say?

  (MRS. DRUDGE is busied with the card table. BIRDBOOT stands marooned and bemused for a moment.)

  MOON (from his seat): Birdboot!—(a tense whisper). Birdboot!

  (BIRDBOOT looks round vaguely.)

  What the hell are you doing?

  BIRDBOOT: Nothing.

  MOON: Stop making an ass of yourself. Come back.

  BIRDBOOT: Oh, I know what you’re thinking—but the fact is I genuinely consider her performance to be one of the summits——

  (CYNTHIA enters as before. MRS. DRUDGE has gone.)

  CYNTHIA: Darling!

  BIRDBOOT: Ah, good evening—may I say that I genuinely consider——

  CYNTHIA: Don’t say anything for a moment—just hold me.

  (She falls into his arms.)

  BIRDBOOT: All right! (They kiss.) My God!—she does have her mouth open! Dear lady, from the first moment I saw you, I felt my whole life changing——

  CYNTHIA (breaking free): We can’t go on meeting like this!

  BIRDBOOT: I am not ashamed to proclaim nightly my love for you!—but fortunately that will not be necessary—— I know of a very good hotel, discreet—run by a man of the world——

  CTNTHIA: But darling, this is madness!

  BIRDBOOT: Yes! I am mad with love.

  CYNTHIA: Please!—remember where we are!

  BIRDBOOT: I don’t care! Let them think what they like, I love you!

  CYNTHIA: Don’t—I love Albert!

  BIRDBOOT: He’s dead. (Shaking her.) Do you understand me—Albert’s dead!

  CYNTHIA: No —I’ll never give up hope! Let me go! We are not free!

  BIRDBOOT: You mean Myrtle? She means nothing to me—nothing!—she’s all cocoa and blue nylon fur slippers—not a spark of creative genius in her whole slumping knee-length-knickered body——

  CYNTHIA: You’re a cad, Simon! You will use me and cast me aside as you have cast aside so many others!

  BIRDBOOT: No, Cynthia—now that I have found you——

  CYNTHIA: You’re ruthless—so strong—so cruel——

  (BIRDBOOT seizes her in an embrace, during which MRS. DRUDGE enters, and MOON’s fevered voice is heard.)

  MOON: Have you taken leave of your tiny mind?

  (CYNTHIA breaks free.)

  CYNTHIA: Stop—can’t you see you’re making a fool of yourself!

  MOON: She’s right.

  BIRDBOOT (to MOON): You keep out of this.

  CYNTHIA: Yes, what is it, Mrs. Drudge?

  MRS. DRUDGE: Should I close the windows, my lady? The fog——

  CYNTHIA: Yes, you’d better.

  MOON: Look, they’ve got your number——

  BIRDBOOT: I’ll leave in my own time, thank you very much.

  MOON: It’s the finish of you, I suppose you know that——

  BIRDBOOT: I don’t need your twopenny Grubb Street prognostications—I have found something bigger and finer——

  MOON: (bemused, to himself): If only it were Higgs….

  CYNTHIA: … And fetch the Major down.

  MRS. DRUDGE: I think I hear him coming down stairs now.

  (She leaves. The sound of a wheelchair’s approach as before. BIRDBOOT prudently keeps out of the chair’s former path but it enters from the next wing down and knocks him flying. A babble of anguish and protestation.)

  CYNTHIA: Simon—say something!

  BIRDBOOT: That reckless bastard (as he sits up).

  CYNTHIA: Thank God!——

  MAGNUS: What’s he doing here?

  CYNTHIA: He just turned up.

  MAGNUS: Really? How do you like it here?

  BIRDBOOT: I couldn’t take it night after night.

  (FELICITY enters.)

  FELICITY: So—you’re still here.

  CYNTHIA: Of course he’s still here. We’re going to play cards. Th
ere is no need to introduce you two, is there, for I recall now that you, Simon, met me through Felicity, our mutual friend.

  FELICITY: Yes, Simon is an old friend——

  BIRDBOOT: Ah—yes—well, I like to give young up and comers the benefit of my—er—Of course, she lacks technique as yet——

  FELICITY: Last night.

  BIRDBOOT: I’m not talking about last night!

  CYNTHIA: Indeed? Well, you deal, Felicity. Simon, you help me with the sofa.

  BIRDBOOT (to MOON): Did you see that? Tried to kill me. I told you it was Magnus—not that it is Magnus.

  MOON: Who did it, you mean?

  BIRDBOOT: What?

  MOON: You think it’s not Magnus who did it?

  BIRDBOOT: Get a grip on yourself, Moon—the facts are staring you in the face. He’s after Cynthia for one thing.

  MAGNUS: It’s Gascoyne, isn’t it?

  BIRDBOOT: Over my dead body!

  MAGNUS: If he comes between us …

  MOON (angrily): For God’s sake sit down!

  CYNTHIA: Simon!

  BIRDBOOT: She needs me, Moon. I’ve got to make up a four.

  (CYNTHIA and BIRDBOOT move the sofa as before, and they all sit at the table.)

  CYNTHIA: Right! Who starts?

  MAGNUS: I do. I’ll dummy for a no-bid ruff and double my holding on South’s queen. (While he moves cards.)

  CYNTHIA. Did I hear you say you saw Felicity last night, Simon?

  BIRDBOOT: Er—er——

  FELICITY: Pay twenty-ones or trump my contract. (Discards.) Cynthia’s turn.

  CYNTHIA: I’ll trump your contract with five dummy no-trumps there (discards), and I’ll move West’s rook for the re-bid with a banker ruff on his second trick there. (Discards.) Simon?

  BIRDBOOT: Would you mind doing that again?

  CYNTHIA: And I’ll ruff your dummy with five no-bid trumps there, (discards) and I support your re-bid with a banker for the solo ruff in the dummy trick there, (discards.)

  BIRDBOOT (standing up and throwing down his cards): And I call your bluff!

  CYNTHIA: Well done, Simon!

  (MAGNUS pays BIRDBOOT while CYNTHIA deals.)

  FELICITY: Strange how Simon appeared in the neighbourhood from nowhere, we know so little about him.

  CYNTHIA: Right, Simon, it’s your opening on the minor bid. Hmm, Let’s see. I think I’ll overbid the spade convention with two no-trumps and King’s gambit offered there—(discards) and West’s dummy split double to Queen’s Bishop four there!

  MAGNUS (as he plays cards): Faites vos jeux. Rien ne va plus. Rouge et noir. Zero.

  CYNTHIA: Simon?

  BIRDBOOT (triumphant, leaping to his feet) And I call your bluff!

  CYNTHIA (imperturbably): I meld.

  FELICITY: I huff.

  MAGNUS: I ruff.

  BIRDBOOT: I bluff.

  CYNTHIA: Twist.

  FELICITY: Bust.

  MAGNUS. Check.

  BIRDBOOT: Snap.

  CYNTHIA: How’s that?

  FELICITY: Not out.

  MAGNUS: Double top.

  BIRDBOOT: Bingo!

  CYNTHIA: No! Simon—your luck’s in tonight.

  FELICITY: We shall see—the night is not over yet, Simon Gascoyne! (She quickly exits.)

  BIRDBOOT (looking after FELICITY): Red herring—smell it a mile off. (To MAGNUS.) Oh, yes, she’s as clean as a whistle, I’ve seen it a thousand times. And I’ve seen you before too, haven’t I? Strange—there’s something about you——

  MAGNUS: Care for a spin round the rose garden, Cynthia?

  CYNTHIA: No, Magnus, I must talk to Simon.

  BIRDBOOT: There’s nothing for you there, you know.

  MAGNUS: You think so?

  BIRDBOOT: Oh, yes, she knows which side her bread is buttered. I am a man not without a certain influence among those who would reap the limelight—she’s not going to throw me over for a heavily disguised cripple.

  MAGNUS. There’s an old Canadian proverb——

  BIRDBOOT: Don’t give me that—I tumbled to you right from the start—oh, yes, you chaps are not as clever as you think…. Sooner or later you make your mistake…. Incidentally, where was it I saw you? … I’ve definitely——

  MAGNUS (leaving): Well, I think I’ll go and oil my gun. (Exit.)

  BIRDBOOT (after MAGNUS): Double bluff!—(to CYNTHIA) I’ve seen it a thousand times.

  CYNTHIA: I think Magnus suspects something. And Felicity? Simon, was there anything between you and Felicity?

  BIRDBOOT: No, no—that’s all over now. I merely flattered her a a little over a drink, told her she’d go far, that sort of thing. Dear me, the fuss that’s been made over a simple flirtation——

  CYNTHIA (as MRS. DRUDGE enters behind): If I find you have falsely seduced me from my dear husband Albert, I will kill you, Simon Gascoyne!

  (The “CURTAIN” as before. MRS. DRUDGE and CYNTHIA leave. BIRDBOOT starts to follow them.)

  MOON: Birdboot!

  (BIRDBOOT stops.)

  MOON: For God’s sake pull yourself together.

  BIRDBOOT: I can’t help it.

  MOON: What do you think you’re doing? You’re turning it into a complete farce!

  BIRDBOOT: I know, I know—but I can’t live without her. (He is making erratic neurotic journeys about the stage.) I shall resign my position, of course. I don’t care I’m a gonner, I tell you—— (He has arrived at the body. He looks at it in surprise, hesitates, bends and turns it over.)

  MOON: Birdboot, think of your family, your friends—your high standing the world of letters—I say, what are you doing?

  (BIRDBOOT is staring at the body’s face.)

  Birdboot … leave it alone. Come and sit down—what’s the matter with you?

  BIRDBOOT (dead-voiced): It’s Higgs.

  MOON: What?

  BIRDBOOT: It’s Higgs.

  (Pause.)

  MOON: Don’t be silly.

  BIRDBOOT: I tell you it’s Higgs!

  (MOON half rises. Bewildered.)

  I don’t understand…. He’s dead.

  MOON: Dead?

  BIRDBOOT: Who would want to…?

  MOON: He must have been lying there all the time….

  BIRDBOOT: … kill Higgs?

  MOON: But what’s he doing here? I was standing in tonight….

  BIRDBOOT (turning): Moon? …

  MOON (in wonder, quietly): So it’s me and Puckeridge now.

  BIRDBOOT: Moon …?

  MOON (faltering): But I swear I….

  BIRDBOOT: I’ve got it——

  MOON: But I didn’t——

  BIRDBOOT (quietly): My God … so that was it…. (Up.) Moon —now I see——

  MOON: —I swear I didn’t——

  BIRDBOOT: Now—finally—I see it all——

  (There is a shot and BIRDBOOT falls dead.)

  MOON: Birdboot! (He runs on, to BIRDBOOT’s body.)

  (CYNTHIA appears at the french windows. She stops and stares. All as before.)

  CYNTHIA: Oh my God—what happened, Inspector?

  MOON (almost to himself): He’s dead…. (He rises.) That’s a bit rough, isn’t it?—A bit extreme!—He may have had his faults —I admit he was a fickle old … Who did this, and why?

  (MOON turns to face her. He stands up and makes swiftly for his seat. Before he gets there he is stopped by the sound of voices.)

  (SIMON and HOUND are occupying the critics’ seats.) (MOON freezes.)

  SIMON: To say that it is without pace, point, focus, interest, drama, wit or originality is to say simply that it does not happen to be my cup of tea. One has only to compare this ragbag with the masters of the genre to see that here we have a trifle that is not my cup of tea at all.

  HOUND: I’m sorry to be blunt but there is no getting away from it. It lacks pace. A complete ragbag.

  SIMON: I will go further. Those of you who were fortunate enough to be at the Comedie Française on Wednesday last, will not need to be reminded tha
t hysterics are no substitute for éclat

  HOUND: It lacks élan.

  SIMON: Some of the cast seem to have given up acting altogether, apparently aghast, with every reason, at finding themselves involved in an evening that would, and indeed will, make the angels weep.

  HOUND: I am not a prude but I fail to see any reason for the shower of filth and sexual allusion foisted on to an unsuspecting public in the guise of modernity at all costs….

  (Behind MOON, FELICITY, MAGNUS and MRS. DRUDGE have made their entrances, so that he turns to face their semicircle.)

  MAGNUS (pointing to BIRDBOOT’s body): Well, Inspector, is this your man?

  MOON (warily): … Yes … Yes …

  CYNTHIA: It’s Simon …

  MOON: Yes … yes … poor…. (Up.) Is this some kind of a joke?

  MAGNUS: If it is, Inspector, it’s in very poor taste.

  (MOON pulls himself together and becomes galvanic, a little wild, in grief for BIRDBOOT.)

  MOON: All right! I’m going to find out who did this! I want everyone to go to the positions they occupied when the shot was fired—(they move; hysterically): No one will leave the house! (They move back.)

  MAGNUS: I think we all had the opportunity to fire the shot Inspector——

  MOON (furious): I am not——

  MAGNUS: —but which of us would want to?

  MOON: Perhaps you. Major Magnus!

  MAGNUS: Why should I want to kill him?

  MOON: Because he was on to you—yes, he tumbled you right from the start—and you shot him just when he was about to reveal that you killed—(MOON points, pauses and then crosses to Higgs’s body and falters)—killed—(he turns Higgs over)—this … chap.

  MAGNUS: But what motive would there be for killing him? (Pause.) Who is this chap? (Pause.) Inspector?

  MOON (rising): I don’t know. Quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met. (Long pause.) Well … now …

  MRS. DRUDGE: Inspector?

  MOON (eagerly): Yes? Yes, what is it, dear lady?

  MRS. DRUDGE: Happening to enter this room earlier in the day to close the windows, I chanced to overhear a remark made by the deceased Simon Gascoyne to her ladyship, viz.—“I will kill anyone who comes between us.”

  MOON: Ah—yes—well, that’s it, then. This … chap …

  (pointing) was obviously killed by (pointing) er … by (pause) Simon.

  CYNTHIA: But he didn’t come between us!

  MAGNUS: And who, then, killed Simon?

  MRS. DRUDGE: Subsequent to that reported remark, I also happened to be in earshot of a remark made by Lady Muldoon to the deceased, to the effect, “I will kill you, Simon Gascoyne!” I hope you don’t mind my mentioning it.