The Collected Shorter Plays
Page 12
Through the scum
Down a little way
To whence one glimpse
Of that wellhead.
[Pause. Shocked.] My Lord! [Sound of club let fall. As before.] My Lord! [Shuffling slippers, with halts. They die away. Long pause.] Bob.
[Pause.] Bob!
MUSIC
Brief rude retort.
WORDS
Music. [Imploring.] Music!
[Pause.]
MUSIC
Rap of baton and statement with elements already used or wellhead alone.
[Pause.]
WORDS
Again. [Pause. Imploring.] Again!
MUSIC
As before or only very slightly varied.
[Pause.]
WORDS
Deep sigh.
Curtain
CASCANDO
A radio piece for music and voice
OPENER
[cold] It is the month of May . . . for me.
[Pause.]
Correct.
[Pause.]
I open.
VOICE
[low, panting] —story . . . if you could finish it . . . you could rest . . . sleep . . . not before . . . oh I know . . . the ones I’ve finished . . . thousands and one . . . all I ever did . . . in my life . . . with my life . . . saying to myself . . . finish this one . . . it’s the right one . . . then rest . . . sleep . . . no more stories . . . no more words . . . and finished it . . . and not the right one . . . couldn’t rest . . . straight away another . . . to begin . . . to finish . . . saying to myself . . . finish this one . . . then rest . . . this time . . . it’s the right one . . . this time . . . you have it . . . and finished it . . . and not the right one . . . couldn’t rest . . . straight away another . . . but this one . . . it’s different . . . I’ll finish it . . . I’ve got it . . . Woburn . . . I resume . . . a long life . . . already . . . say what you like . . . a few misfortunes . . . that’s enough . . . five years later . . . ten . . . I don’t know . . . Woburn . . . he’s changed . . . not enough . . . recognizable . . . in the shed . . . yet another . . . waiting for night . . . night to fall . . . to go out . . . go on . . . elsewhere . . . sleep elsewhere . . . it’s slow . . . he lift s his head . . . now and then . . . his eyes . . . to the window . . . it’s darkening . . . earth darkening . . . it’s night . . . he gets up . . . knees first . . . then up . . . on his feet . . . slips out . . . Woburn . . . same old coat . . . right the sea . . . left the hills . . . he has the choice . . . he has only—
OPENER
[with Voice] And I close.
[Silence.]
I open the other.
MUSIC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
OPENER
[with Music] And I close.
[Silence.]
I open both.
give up . . . then rest . . . sleep . . . not before . . . finish ......................................................... this time . . . it’s the right one . . . you have it . . . you’ve got ......................................................... it . . . it’s there . . . somewhere . . . you’ve got him . . . follow ............................................................ him . . . don’t lose him . . . Woburn story . . . getting on . . . ......................................................... finish . . . then sleep . . . no more stories . . . no more words .......................................................... . . come on . . . next thing . . . he— .........................
OPENER
[with Voice and Music] And I close.
[Silence.]
I start again.
VOICE
—down . . . gentle slopes . . . boreen . . . giant aspens . . . wind in the boughs . . . faint sea . . . Woburn . . . same old coat . . . he goes on . . . stops . . . not a soul . . . not yet . . . night too bright . . . say what you like . . . he goes on . . . hugging the bank . . . same old stick . . . he goes down . . . falls . . . on purpose or not . . . can’t see . . . he’s down . . . that’s what counts . . . face in the mud . . . arms spread . . . that’s the idea . . . already . . . there already . . . no not yet . . . he gets up . . . knees first . . . hands flat . . . in the mud . . . head sunk . . . then up . . . on his feet . . . huge bulk . . . come on . . . he goes on . . . he goes down . . . come on . . . in his head . . . what’s in his head . . . a hole . . . a shelter . . . a hollow . . . in the dunes . . . a cave . . . vague memory . . . in his head . . . of a cave . . . he goes down . . . no more trees . . . no more bank . . . he’s changed . . . not enough . . . night too bright . . . soon the dunes . . . no more cover . . . not a soul . . . not—
[Silence.]
MUSIC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
[Silence.]
no more words . . . don’t give up . . . this time . . . it’s the ......................................................... right one . . . we’re there . . . I’m there . . . somewhere . . . ......................................................... Woburn . . . I’ve got him . . . don’t lose him . . . follow him .......................................................... . . to the end . . . come on . . . this time . . . it’s the right one ......................................................... . . . finish . . . sleep . . . Woburn . . . come on— .......................................
[Silence.]
OPENER
So, at will.
They say, It’s in his head.
No. I open.
VOICE
—falls . . . again . . . on purpose or not . . . can’t see . . . he’s down . . . that’s what matters . . . face in the sand . . . arms spread . . . bare dunes . . . not a scrub . . . same old coat . . . night too bright . . . say what you like . . . sea louder . . . thunder . . . manes of foam . . . Woburn . . . his head . . . what’s in his head . . . peace . . . peace again . . . in his head . . . no further . . . no more searching . . . sleep . . . no not yet . . . he gets up . . . knees first . . . hands flat . . . in the sand . . . head sunk . . . then up . . . on his feet . . . huge bulk . . . same old broadbrim . . . jammed down . . . come on . . . he goes on . . . ton weight . . . in the sand . . . knee-deep . . . he goes down . . . sea—
OPENER
[with Voice] And I close.
[Silence.]
I open the other.
MUSIC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
OPENER
[with Music] And I close.
[Silence.]
So, at will.
It’s my life, I live on that.
[Pause.]
Correct.
[Pause.]
What do I open?
They say, He opens nothing, he has nothing to open, it’s in his
head.
They don’t see me, they don’t see what I do, they don’t see what
I have, and they say, He opens nothing, he has nothing to
open, it’s in his head.
I don’t protest any more, I don’t say any more,
There is nothing in my head.
I don’t answer any more.
I open and close.
VOICE
—lights . . . of the land . . . the island . . . the sky . . . he need only . . . lift his head . . . his eyes . . . he’d see them . . . shine on him . . . but no . . . he—
[Silence.]
MUSIC
[brief] .....................................................
[Silence.]
OPENER
They say, That is not his life, he does not live on that. They don’t see me, they don’t see what my life is, they don’t see what I live on, and they say, That is not his life, he does not live on that.
[Pause.]
I have lived on it . . . till I’m old.
Old enough.
&
nbsp; Listen.
VOICE
[weakening] —this time . . . I’m there . . . Woburn . . . it’s him . . . I’ve seen him . . . I’ve got him . . . come on . . . same old coat . . . he goes down . . . falls . . . falls again . . . on purpose or not . . . can’t see . . . he’s down . . . that’s what counts . . . come on—
OPENER
[with Voice] Full strength.
VOICE
—face . . . in the stones . . . no more sand . . . all stones . . . that’s the idea . . . we’re there . . . this time . . . no not yet . . . he gets up . . . knees first . . . hands flat . . . in the stones . . . head sunk . . . then up . . . on his feet . . . huge bulk . . . Woburn . . . faster . . . he goes on . . . he goes down . . . he—
[Silence.]
MUSIC
[weakening] ................................................
OPENER
[with Music] Full strength.
MUSIC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
[Silence.]
OPENER
That’s not all.
I open both.
Listen.
searching . . . to find him . . . in the dark . . . to see him . . . ......................................................... to say to him . . . for whom . . . that’s it . . . no matter . . . ......................................................... never him . . . never right . . . start again . . . in the dark . . . ......................................................... done with that . . . this time . . . it’s the right one . . . we’re ......................................................... there . . . nearly . . . finish— ..........................
[Silence.]
OPENER
From one world to another, it’s as though they drew together. We have not much further to go. Good.
him . . . I’ve said him . . . we’re there . . . nearly . . . no more ......................................................... stories . . . all false . . . this time . . . it’s the right one . . . I ......................................................... have it . . . finish . . . sleep . . . Woburn . . . it’s him . . . I’ve ......................................................... got him . . . follow him . . . to—
.............................
[Silence.]
OPENER
Good.
[Pause.]
Yes, correct, the month of May.
You know, the reawakening.
[Pause.]
I open.
VOICE
—no tiller . . . no thwarts . . . no oars . . . afloat . . . sucked out . . . then back . . . aground . . . drags free . . . out . . . Woburn . . . he fills it . . . flat out . . . face in the bilge . . . arms spread . . . same old coat . . . hands clutching . . . the gunnels . . . no . . . I don’t know . . . I see him . . . he clings on . . . out to sea . . . heading nowhere . . . for the island . . . then no more . . . else—
[Silence.]
MUSIC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
[Silence.]
OPENER
They said, It’s his own, it’s his voice, it’s in his head.
[Pause.]
VOICE
—faster . . . out . . . driving out . . . rearing . . . plunging . . . heading nowhere . . . for the island . . . then no more . . . elsewhere . . . anywhere . . . heading anywhere . . . lights—
[Pause.]
OPENER
No resemblance.
I answered, And that . . .
MUSIC
[brief] ...................................................
[Silence.]
OPENER
. . . is that mine too?
But I don’t answer any more.
And they don’t say anything any more.
They have quit.
Good.
[Pause.]
Yes, correct, the month of May, the close of May.
The long days.
[Pause.]
I open.
[Pause.]
I’m afraid to open.
But I must open.
So I open.
VOICE
—come on . . . Woburn . . . arms spread . . . same old coat . . . face in the bilge . . . he clings on . . . island gone . . . far astern . . . heading out . . . open sea . . . land gone . . . his head . . . what’s in his head . . . Woburn—
OPENER
[with Voice] Come on! Come on!
VOICE
—at last . . . we’re there . . . no further . . . no more searching
. . . in the dark . . . elsewhere . . . always elsewhere . . . we’re there . . . nearly . . . Woburn . . . hang on . . . don’t let go . . . lights gone . . . of the land . . . all gone . . . nearly all . . . too far . . . too late . . . of the sky . . . those . . . if you like . . . he need only . . . turn over . . . he’d see them . . . shine on him . . . but no . . . he clings on . . . Woburn . . . he’s changed . . . nearly enough—
[Silence.]
MUSIC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
OPENER
[with Music] God.
MUSIC
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
[Silence.]
OPENER
God God.
[Pause.]
There was a time I asked myself, What is it.
There were times I answered, It’s the outing.
Two outings.
Then the return.
Where?
To the village.
To the inn.
Two outings, then at last the return, to the village, to the inn, by the only road that leads there.
An image, like any other.
But I don’t answer any more.
I open.
right one . . . this time . . . I have it . . . we’re there . . . ......................................................... Woburn . . . nearly— ....................
OPENER
[with Voice and Music] As though they had linked their arms.
. . . Woburn . . . it’s him . . . see him . . . say him . . . to the ......................................................... end . . . don’t let go—
OPENER
[with Voice and Music] Good.
more . . . I’m there . . . nearly . . . Woburn . . . it’s him . . . it ......................................................... was him . . . I’ve got him . . . nearly—
OPENER
[with Voice and Music, fervently] Good!
finish . . . no more stories . . . sleep . . . we’re there . . . nearly .......................................................... . . just a few more . . . don’t let go . . . Woburn . . . he clings ............................................................ on . . . come on . . . come on— .........................................................
[Silence.]
Curtain
PLAY
A play in one act
Front centre, touching one another, three identical grey urns (see page 367) about one yard high. From each a head protrudes, the neck held fast in the urn’s mouth. The heads are those, from left to right as seen from auditorium, of W 2, M and W 1. They face undeviatingly front throughout the play. Faces so lost to age and aspect as to seem almost part of urns. But no masks.
Their speech is provoked by a spotlight projected on faces alone (see page 366).
The transfer of light from one face to another is immediate. No blackout, i.e. return to almost complete darkness of opening, except where indicated.
The response to light is immediate.
Faces impassive throughout. Voices toneless except where an expression is indicated.
Rapid tempo throughout.
The curtain rises on a stage in almost complete darkness. Urns just discernible. Five seconds.
Faint spots simultaneously on three faces. Three seconds. Voices faint, largely unintelligible.
[Spots off. Blackout. Five seconds. Strong spots simultaneously on three faces. Three seconds. Voices normal strength.]
[Spots off. Blackout. Five seconds. Spot on W1.]
W1
I said to him, Give her up. I swore by all I held most sacred—
[Spot from W1 to W2.]
W2
One morning as I was sitting stitching by the open window she burst in and flew at me. Give him up, she screamed, he’s mine. Her photographs were kind to her. Seeing her now for the first time full length in the flesh I understood why he preferred me. [Spot from W2 to M.]
M
We were not long together when she smelled the rat. Give up that whore, she said, or I’ll cut my throat—[hiccup] pardon—so help me God. I knew she could have no proof. So I told her I did not know what she was talking about. [Spot from M to W2.]
W2
What are you talking about? I said, stitching away. Some one yours? Give up whom? I smell you off him, she screamed, he stinks of bitch.
[Spot from W2 to W1.]
W1
Though I had him dogged for months by a first-rate man, no shadow of proof was forthcoming. And there was no denying that he continued as . . . assiduous as ever. This, and his horror of the merely Platonic thing, made me some times wonder if I were not accusing him unjustly. Yes. [Spot from W1 to M.]