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Authors: Samuel Beckett

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BOOK: Waiting for Godot
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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. Vlamdimir 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.

BOOK: Waiting for Godot
13.32Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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