MCCANN (to STANLEY). Sit down.
STANLEY. Why?
MCCANN. You’d be more comfortable.
STANLEY. So would you.
Pause.
MCCANN. All right. If you will I will.
STANLEY. You first.
MCCANN slowly sits at the table, left
MCCANN. Well?
STANLEY. Right. Now you’ve both had a rest you can get out!
MCCANN (rising). That’s a dirty trick! I’ll kick the shite out of him!
GOLDBERG (rising). No! I have stood up.
MCCANN. Sit down again!
GOLDBERG. Once I’m up I’m up.
STANLEY. Same here.
MCCANN (moving to STANLEY). You’ve made Mr Goldberg stand up.
STANLEY (his voice rising). It’ll do him good!
MCCANN. Get in that seat.
GOLDBERG. McCann.
MCCANN. Get down in that seat!
GOLDBERG (crossing to him). Webber. (Quietly.) SIT DOWN.
(Silence. STANLEY begins to whistle “The Mountains of Morne”. He strolls casually to the chair at the table. They watch him. He stops whistling. Silence. He sits.)
STANLEY. You’d better be careful.
GOLDBERG. Webber, what were you doing yesterday?
STANLEY. Yesterday?
GOLDBERG. And the day before. What did you do the day before that?
STANLEY. What do you mean?
GOLDBERG. Why are you wasting everybody’s time, Webber? Why are you getting in everybody’s way?
STANLEY. Me? What are you—
GOLDBERG. I’m telling you, Webber. You’re a washout. Why are you getting on everybody’s wick? Why are you driving that old lady off her conk?
MCCANN. He likes to do it!
GOLDBERG. Why do you behave so badly, Webber? Why do you force that old man out to play chess?
STANLEY. Me?
GOLDBERG. Why do you treat that young lady like a leper?She’s not the leper, Webber!
STANLEY. What the—
GOLDBERG. What did you wear last week, Webber? Where do you keep your suits?
MCCANN. Why did you leave the organization?
GOLDBERG. What would your old mum say, Webber?
MCCANN. Why did you betray us?
GOLDBERG. You hurt me, Webber. You’re playing a dirty game.
MCCANN. That’s a Black and Tan fact.
GOLDBERG. Who does he think he is?
MCCANN. Who do you think you are?
STANLEY. You’re on the wrong horse.
GOLDBERG. When did you come to this place?
STANLEY. Last year.
GOLDBERG. Where did you come from?
STANLEY. Somewhere else.
GOLDBERG. Why did you come here?
STANLEY. My feet hurt!
GOLDBERG. Why did you stay?
STANLEY. I had a headache!
GOLDBERG. Did you take anything for it?
STANLEY. Yes.
GOLDBERG. What?
STANLEY. Fruit salts!
GOLDBERG. Enos or Andrews?
STANLEY. En— An—
GOLDBERG. Did you stir properly? Did they fizz?
STANLEY. Now, now, wait, you—
GOLDBERG. Did they fizz? Did they fizz or didn’t they fizz?
MCCANN. He doesn’t know!
GOLDBERG. You don’t know. When did you last have a bath?
STANLEY. I have one every—
GOLDBERG. Don’t lie.
MCCANN. You betrayed the organization. I know him!
STANLEY. You don’t!
GOLDBERG. What can you see without your glasses?
STANLEY. Anything.
GOLDBERG. Take off his glasses.
MCCANN snatches his glasses and as STANLEY rises, reaching for them, takes his chair downstage centre, below the table, STANLEY stumbling as he follows. STANLEY clutches the chair and stays bent over it.
Webber, you’re a fake. (They stand on each side of the chair.) When did you last wash up a cup?
STANLEY. The Christmas before last.
GOLDBERG. Where?
STANLEY. Lyons Corner House.
GOLDBERG. Which one?
STANLEY. Marble Arch.
GOLDBERG. Where was your wife?
STANLEY. In—
GOLDBERG. Answer.
STANLEY (turning, crouched). What wife?
GOLDBERG. What have you done with your wife?
MCCANN. He’s killed his wife!
GOLDBERG. Why did you kill your wife?
STANLEY (sitting, his back to the audience). What wife?
MCCANN. How did he kill her?
GOLDBERG. How did you kill her?
MCCANN. You throttled her.
GOLDBERG. With arsenic.
MCCANN. There’s your man!
GOLDBERG. Where’s your old mum?
STANLEY. In the sanatorium.
MCCANN. Yes!
GOLDBERG. Why did you never get married?
MCCANN. She was waiting at the porch.
GOLDBERG. You skeddadled from the wedding.
MCCANN. He left her in the lurch.
GOLDBERG. You left her in the pudding club.
MCCANN. She was waiting at the church.
GOLDBERG. Webber! Why did you change your name?
STANLEY. I forgot the other one.
GOLDBERG. What’s your name now?
STANLEY. Joe Soap.
GOLDBERG. You stink of sin.
MCCANN. I can smell it.
GOLDBERG. Do you recognise an external force?
STANLEY. What?
GOLDBERG. Do you recognise an external force?
MCCANN. That’s the question!
GOLDBERG. Do you recognise an external force, responsible for you, suffering for you?
STANLEY. It’s late.
GOLDBERG. Late! Late enough! When did you last pray?
MCCANN. He’s sweating!
GOLDBERG. When did you last pray?
MCCANN. He’s sweating!
GOLDBERG. Is the number 846 possible or necessary?
STANLEY. Neither.
GOLDBERG. Wrong! Is the number 846 possible or necessary?
STANLEY. Both.
GOLDBERG. Wrong! It’s necessary but not possible.
STANLEY. Both.
GOLDBERG. Wrong! Why do you think the number 846 is necessarily possible?
STANLEY. Must be.
GOLDBERG. Wrong! It’s only necessarily necessary! We admit possibility only after we grant necessity. It is possible because necessary but by no means necessary through possibility. The possibility can only be assumed after the proof of necessity.
MCCANN. Right!
GOLDBERG. Right? Of course right! We’re right and you’re wrong, Webber, all along the line.
MCCANN. All along the line!
GOLDBERG. Where is your lechery leading you?
MCCANN. You’ll pay for this.
GOLDBERG. You stuff yourself with dry toast.
MCCANN. You contaminate womankind.
GOLDBERG. Why don’t you pay the rent?
MCCANN. Mother defiler!
GOLDBERG. Why do you pick your nose?
MCCANN. I demand justice!
GOLDBERG. What’s your trade?
MCCANN. What about Ireland?
GOLDBERG. What’s your trade?
STANLEY. I play the piano.
GOLDBERG. How many fingers do you use?
STANLEY. No hands!
GOLDBERG. No society would touch you. Not even a building society.
MCCANN. You’re a traitor to the cloth.
GOLDBERG. What do you use for pyjamas?
STANLEY. Nothing.
GOLDBERG. You verminate the sheet of your birth.
MCCANN. What about the Albigensenist heresy?
GOLDBERG. Who watered the wicket in Melbourne?
MCCANN. What about the blessed Oliver Plunkett?
GOLDBERG. Speak up, Webber. Why did the chicken cross the road?
&n
bsp; STANLEY. He wanted to—he wanted to—he wanted to….
MCCANN. He doesn’t know!
GOLDBERG. Why did the chicken cross the road?
STANLEY. He wanted to—he wanted to….
GOLDBERG. Why did the chicken cross the road?
STANLEY. He wanted….
MCCANN. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know which came first!
GOLDBERG. Which came first?
MCCANN. Chicken? Egg? Which came first?
GOLDBERG and MCCANN. Which came first? Which came first? Which came first?
STANLEY screams.
GOLDBERG. He doesn’t know. Do you know your own face?
MCCANN. Wake him up. Stick a needle in his eye.
GOLDBERG. You’re a plague, Webber. You’re an overthrow.
MCCANN. You’re what’s left!
GOLDBERG. But we’ve got the answer to you. We can sterilise you.
MCCANN. What about Drogheda?
GOLDBERG. Your bite is dead. Only your pong is left.
MCCANN. You betrayed our land.
GOLDBERG. You betray our breed.
MCCANN. Who are you, Webber?
GOLDBERG. What makes you think you exist?
MCCANN. You’re dead.
GOLDBERG. You’re dead. You can’t live, you can’t think, you can’t love. You’re dead. You’re a plague gone bad. There’s no juice in you. You’re nothing but an odour!
Silence. They stand over him. He is crouched in the chair. He looks up slowly and kicks GOLDBERG in the stomach. GOLDBERG falls. STANLEY stands. MCCANN seizes a chair and lifts it above his head. STANLEY seizes a chair and covers his head with it. MCCANN and STANLEY circle.
GOLDBERG. Steady, McCann.
STANLEY (circling). Uuuuuhhhhh!
MCCANN. Right, Judas.
GOLDBERG (rising). Steady, McCann.
MCCANN. Come on!
STANLEY. Uuuuuuuhhhhh!
MCCANN. He’s sweating.
STANLEY. Uuuuuhhhhh!
GOLDBERG. Easy, McCann.
MCCANN. The bastard sweatpig is sweating.
A loud drumbeat off left, descending the stairs. GOLDBERG takes the chair from STANLEY. They put the chairs down. They stop still. Enter MEG, in evening dress, holding sticks and drum.
MEG. I brought the drum down. I’m dressed for the party.
GOLDBERG. Wonderful.
MEG. You like my dress?
GOLDBERG. Wonderful. Out of this world.
MEG. I know. My father gave it to me. (Placing drum on table.) Doesn’t it make a beautiful noise?
GOLDBERG. It’s a fine piece of work. Maybe Stan’ll play us a little tune afterwards.
MEG. Oh yes. Will you, Stan?
STANLEY. Could I have my glasses?
GOLDBERG. Ah yes. (He holds his hand out to MCCANN. MCCANN passes him his glasses.) Here they are. (He holds them out for STANLEY, who reaches for them.) Here they are. (STANLEY takes them.) Now. What have we got here? Enough to scuttle a liner. We’ve got four bottles of Scotch and one bottle of Irish.
MEG. Oh, Mr Goldberg, what should I drink?
GOLDBERG. Glasses, glasses first. Open the Scotch, McCann.
MEG (at the sideboard). Here’s my very best glasses in here.
MCCANN. I don’t drink Scotch.
GOLDBERG. You’ve got the Irish.
MEG (bringing the glasses). Here they are.
GOLDBERG. Good. Mrs Boles, I think Stanley should pour the toast, don’t you?
MEG. Oh yes. Come on, Stanley. (STANLEY walks slowly to the table.) Do you like my dress, Mr Goldberg?
GOLDBERG. It’s out on its own. Turn yourself round a minute. I used to be in the business. Go on, walk up there.
MEG. Oh no.
GOLDBERG. Don’t be shy. (He slaps her bottom.)
MEG. Oooh!
GOLDBERG. Walk up the boulevard. Let’s have a look at you. What a carriage. What’s your opinion, McCann? Like a Countess, nothing less. Madam, now turn about and promenade to the kitchen. What a deportment!
MCCANN (to STANLEY). You can pour my Irish too.
GOLDBERG. You look like a Gladiola.
MEG. Stan, what about my dress?
GOLDBERG. One for the lady, one for the lady. Now madam—your glass.
MEG. Thank you.
GOLDBERG. Lift your glasses, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll drink a toast.
MEG. Lulu isn’t here.
GOLDBERG. It’s past the hour. Now—who’s going to propose the toast? Mrs Boles, it can only be you.
MEG. Me?
GOLDBERG. Who else?
MEG. But what do I say?
GOLDBERG. Say what you feel. What you honestly feel. (MEG looks uncertain.) It’s Stanley’s birthday. Your Stanley. Look at him. Look at him and it’ll come. Wait a minute, the light’s too strong. Let’s have proper lighting. McCann, have you got your torch?
MCCANN (bringing a small torch from his pocket). Here.
GOLDBERG. Switch out the light and put on your torch. (MCCANN goes to the door, switches off the light, comes back, shines the torch on MEG. Outside the window there is still a faint light.) Not on the lady, on the gentleman! You must shine it on the birthday boy. (MCCANN shines the torch in STANLEY’S face.) Now, Mrs Boles, it’s all yours.
Pause.
MEG. I don’t know what to say.
GOLDBERG. Look at him. Just look at him.
MEG. Isn’t the light in his eyes?
GOLDBERG. No, no. Go on.
MEG. Well—it’s very, very nice to be here tonight, in my house, and I want to propose a toast to Stanley, because it’s his birthday, and he’s lived here for a long while now, and he’s my Stanley now. And I think he’s a good boy, although sometimes he’s bad. (An appreciative laugh from GOLDBERG.) And he’s the only Stanley I know, and I know him better than all the world, although he doesn’t think so. (“Hear—hear” from GOLDBERG.) Well, I could cry because I’m so happy, having him here and not gone away, on his birthday, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him, and all you good people here tonight…. (She sobs.)
GOLDBERG. Beautiful! A beautiful speech. Put the light on, McCann. (MCCANN goes to the door. STANLEY remains still.) That was a lovely toast. (The light goes on. LULU enters from the door, left. GOLDBERG comforts MEG.) Buck up now. Come on, smile at the birdy. That’s better. Ah, look who’s here.
MEG. Lulu.
GOLDBERG. How do you do, Lulu? I’m Nat Goldberg.
LULU. Hallo.
GOLDBERG. Stanley, a drink for your guest. You just missed the toast, my dear, and what a toast.
LULU. Did I?
GOLDBERG. Stanley, a drink for your guest. Stanley. (STANLEY hands a glass to LULU.) Right. Now raise your glasses. Everyone standing up? No, not you, Stanley. You must sit down.
MCCANN. Yes, that’s right. He must sit down.
GOLDBERG. You don’t mind sitting down a minute? We’re going to drink to you.
MEG. Come on!
LULU. Come on!
STANLEY sits in a chair at the table.
GOLDBERG. Right. Now Stanley’s sat down. (Taking the stage.) Well, I want to say first that I’ve never been so touched to the heart as by the toast we’ve just heard. How often, in this day and age, do you come across real, true warmth? Once in a lifetime. Until a few minutes ago, ladies and gentlemen, I, like all of you, was asking the same question. What’s happened to the love, the bonhomie, the unashamed expression of affection of the day before yesterday, that our mums taught us in the nursery?
MCCANN. Gone with the wind.
GOLDBERG. That’s what I thought, until today. I believe in a good laugh, a day’s fishing, a bit of gardening. I was very proud of my old greenhouse, made out of my own spit and faith. That’s the sort of man I am. Not size but quality. A little Austin, tea in Fullers, a library book from Boots, and I’m satisfied. But just now, I say just now, the lady of the house said her piece and I for one am knocked over by the sentiments she expressed. Lucky is the man who’s at the receiving end,
that’s what I say. (Pause.) How can I put it to you? We all wander on our tod through this world. It’s a lonely pillow to kip on. Right!
LULU (admiringly). Right!
GOLDBERG. Agreed. But tonight, Lulu, McCann, we’ve known a great fortune. We’ve heard a lady extend the sum total of her devotion, in all its pride, plume and peacock, to a member of her own living race. Stanley, my heartfelt congratulations. I wish you, on behalf of us all, a happy birthday. I’m sure you’ve never been a prouder man than you are today. Mazoltov! And may we only meet at Simchahs! (LULU and MEG applaud.) Turn out the light, McCann, while we drink the toast.
LULU. That was a wonderful speech.
MCCANN switches out the light, comes back, and shines the torch in STANLEY’S face. The light outside the window is fainter.
GOLDBERG. Lift your glasses. Stanley—happy birthday.
MCCANN. Happy birthday.
LULU. Happy birthday.
MEG. Many happy returns of the day, Stan.
GOLDBERG. And well over the fast.
They all drink.
MEG (kissing him). Oh, Stanny….
GOLDBERG. Lights!
MCCANN. Right! (He switches on the lights.)
MEG. Clink my glass, Stan.
LULU. Mr Goldberg—
GOLDBERG. Call me Nat.
MEG (to MCCANN). You clink my glass.
LULU (to GOLDBERG). You’re empty. Let me fill you up.
GOLDBERG. It’s a pleasure.
LULU. You’re a marvellous speaker, Nat, you know that? Where did you learn to speak like that?
GOLDBERG. You liked it, eh?
LULU. Oh yes!
GOLDBERG. Well, my first chance to stand up and give a lecture was at the Ethical Hall, Bayswater. A wonderful opportunity. I’ll never forget it. They were all there that night. Charlotte Street was empty. Of course, that’s a good while ago.
LULU. What did you speak about?
GOLDBERG. The Necessary and the Possible. It went like a bomb. Since then I always speak at weddings.
STANLEY is still. GOLDBERG sits left of the table. MEG joins MCCANN downstage, right, LULU is downstage, left. MCCANN pours more Irish from the bottle, which he carries, into his glass.
MEG. Let’s have some of yours.
MCCANN. In that?
MEG. Yes.
MCCANN. Are you used to mixing them?
MEG. No.
MCCANN. Give me your glass.
MEG sits on a shoe-box, downstage, right. LULU, at the table, pours more drink for GOLDBERG and herself, and gives GOLDBERG his glass.
GOLDBERG. Thank you.
MEG (to MCCANN). Do you think I should?
GOLDBERG. Lulu, you’re a big bouncy girl. Come and sit on my lap.
MCCANN. Why not?
Harold Pinter Plays 1 Page 5
