Waiting for Godot: Act I

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: Dreadful privation.

VLADIMIR: A—. What are you insinuating? That we've come to the wrong place?

ESTRAGON: [very insidious]. But what Saturday? And is it Saturday? Is it not rather Sunday? [Pause.] Or Monday? [Pause.] Or Friday?

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?

ESTRAGON: [voluptuously.] Calm...calm...The English say cawm.

[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: A vague supplication.

VLADIMIR: Your Worship wishes to assert his prerogatives?

ESTRAGON: [his mouth full, vacuously]. We're not tied?

ESTRAGON: Nothing to be done. [He proffers the remains of the carrot to Vladimir.] Like to finish it?

VLADIMIR: [conciliating]. I once knew a family called Gozzo.

VLADIMIR: Well you see—
POZZO: [peremptory]. Who is Godot?

POZZO: [with magnanimous gesture]. Let's say no more about it.

[Lucky turns. To Vladimir and Estragon, affably.] Gentlemen, I am happy to have met you.

[Before their incredulous expression.] Yes yes, sincerely happy.

That is why, with your permission, I propose to dally with you a moment, before I venture any further.

The fresh air stimulates the jaded appetite.

Pozzo eats his chicken voraciously, throwing away the bones after having sucked them.

ESTRAGON: [shrugging his shoulders, wry face.] Would you say so?

VLADIMIR: A trifle effeminate.

POZZO: [in raptures]. Mister! [Lucky bows his head.] Reply! Do you want them or don't you?

POZZO: I am impertinent.

But how am I to sit down now, without affectation, now that I have risen?

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.

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.

POZZO: He imagines that when I see him indefatigable I'll regret my decision.

[Pause. Judiciously.] It is true the population has increased.

ESTRAGON: Come come, take a seat I beseech you, you'll get pneumonia.

POZZO: Except the firmament.

ESTRAGON: But take the weight off your feet, I implore you, you'll catch your death.

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.

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.

VLADIMIR: [to Estragon, indignantly]. That's enough!

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?

VLADIMIR: [squirming like an aesthete]. There's something about it...

Well now isn't that...[He looks up, consternation on his features. Faintly.]

...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...

...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...

[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.]