The Dresser Page #8
- TV-14
- Year:
- 2015
- 105 min
- 1,606 Views
P*ssy...
Be gentle with Her Ladyship.
I'm always gentle with Her Ladyship.
Especially gentle.
Why?
Time of life.
Ohh!
You mean flushes
and dizzy spells?
She's become very
preoccupied with herself.
Sounds like a bad attack of change.
Be gentle. I don't want her hurt.
BELL RINGS:
Ai-ai!
Sleep now.
Is there anything else you want?
Oblivion.
That'll come sooner or later.
And I hope later.
I shall wake you in plenty of time
so you can enter fantastically
dressed in wild flowers.
Sleep tight,
don't let the bugs bite.
Fetch Madge!
KNOCK ON DOOR:
Yes?
It's going well, I think.
Except for your first entrance.
Come here.
Hold my hand.
Please.
It's like ice.
Cold with fear.
What are you frightened of?
Of what is to come.
You know who you're
talking to, do you?
It's me, not someone to impress.
I'm speaking from my heart.
I have never before felt so lonely.
Please, I have a show to run...
Listen to me.
I am frightened of what is to come.
And I meant it, because,
for the first time in my life,
I see no friends.
I am not warmed by fellowship.
I know only...
awful solitude.
An occupational hazard.
You wanted to see me, about what?
I look on you as my one true friend.
I have to go back to the corner.
Have you been happy?
Has it been worth it?
No, I've not been happy.
Yes, it's been worth it.
Madge, dear...
In my will, I've left you
all my press-cutting books.
I don't want to hear what
you've left me in your will.
Cuttings and notices that span
a lifetime, an entire career.
I've kept them religiously.
Good and bad notices alike.
Not all that many bad.
Talk of me sometimes.
Speak well of me.
Actors live on only
in the memory of others.
Speak well of me.
This is a ridiculous conversation.
You're in the middle
of a performance of Lear,
playing rather less mechanically
than you have of late,
and you talk as if you're organising
your own memorial service.
The most wonderful thing in life
is to be remembered.
Speak well of me.
You'll be believed.
You'll be remembered.
Madge, dear...
I have something for you.
I want you to have this ring.
If possessions can be dear,
this ring is the dearest thing I own.
Edmund Kean wore this ring
in a play whose title is an apt
inscription for what I feel -
A New Way To Pay Old Debts.
When you talk of it,
say Edmund Kean and I wore it.
I once had it in mind
to give it to you...
years ago.
But you were younger then,
and I thought
you would misunderstand.
Yes.
A ring from a man to a woman
is easily misunderstood.
I know I'm thought insensitive,
but I'm not blind.
No. I've always known you were aware
of what the spinster
in the corner felt.
You were right not to give me
the ring years ago.
I lived in hope then.
At least I've seen you every day,
I settled for what I could get.
You are the only one
Beginners for act two.
KNOCK AT DOOR:
Who?
Irene. I'm returning
the triple crown, Sir.
Come.
BELL RINGS:
Put it down.
Sir, will it disturb you
if I say something?
Depends what it is.
For what?
The performance this evening.
It's not over yet. I felt honoured
to be on the stage.
Open that drawer, you will find
a photograph of me.
I love coming into this room.
I can feel the power.
And the mystery.
In days gone by,
this would have been a place
where the High Priests robed.
A kindred spirit.
Lock the door.
Come nearer.
It's Irene.
Irene.
You want to act?
Yes. Passionately?
Yes.
With every fibre of your being?
Yes.
To the exclusion of all else?
Yes.
You must be prepared to sacrifice
what most people call...
Life.
I am.
Your birth sign? Scorpio.
Good.
Ambition, secretiveness, loyalty,
capable of great jealously.
Essential qualities in the theatre.
Have you good legs?
Come closer.
Let me see.
Higher.
TOO good. All the best actresses
have legs like tree trunks.
There's not much of you, is there?
Such small bones.
Are you getting enough to eat?
SHE GASPS:
So young...
So young...
HE GROWLS, SHE SCREAMS
That's more like it!
Too late, too late.
Well, now, my dainty duck,
my dearie-o. Let go of me!
What was all that about?
He seems better.
Better than what or whom,
as the case may be?
I didn't think he'd get through
the performance tonight.
I'm waiting.
For what? A graphic description
of events. Out with it,
or I shall slap your face - hard.
I thought we were friends!
I thought we were too.
Irene...
I shall long remember welcoming
you into the company,
in the prop room of
the Palace Theatre, Newark-on-Trent.
You were locked in the arms
of the Prince of Morocco,
a married man,
and ever such a comic sight
with his tights round his ankles
and you smeared black.
And I said,
"Don't worry, mum's the word,
"but don't let it happen again. "
Sorry, what am I
supposed to have done?
Well, you tell me. About what?
About Sir.
You know who Sir is, Irene.
I'm late. I have to help
Her Ladyship with her armour.
Her Ladyship's armour will keep.
Perhaps you didn't understand
the question.
What did Sir do?
I'm not telling you.
Then I'll mark you for life, ducky.
You! You strike me
and I'll tell Sir - I will, I will.
I'll tell Sir, I'll tell Sir.
Tell Sir? On me?
I quake in my boots.
I shan't be able to eat my tea.
Oh, tell Sir!
Never mind "tell Sir".
I'll tell YOU.
He did something,
something unseen and furtive,
something that gave him pleasure.
He lifted me up in his arms.
Lifted you up?
And I understood,
I understood what he meant.
"So young, so young," he said,
and lifted me up.
"That's more like it," he cried,
and I knew, cradled in his arms,
that it was youth and newness
he was after...
It's not youth or talent
or star quality he's after, ducky,
but a moderate eater.
DOOR OPENS:
Oh, there you are.
You're late with my armour.
Off you go, dear. You'll have
to find another canoe to paddle.
Ours, I'm afraid... has holes.
SWORDS CLASH, MEN GRUN HE YELLS
Be brief in it, to the castle;
For my writ is on the life of Lear
and on Cordelia.
Nay, send in time.
Haste thee for thy life.
You're on. I wish you wouldn't do
that. You remind me of a labourer.
.. some good I mean to do,
despite of mine own nature.
Ugh, God Almighty!
Cue LX.
TIMPANI PLAYS:
APPLAUSE:
Howl, howl, howl, howl!
O, you are men of stones. Had I your
tongues and eyes, I'd use them
so that heaven's vault
should crack.
She's gone for ever!
I know when one is dead, and
when one lives. She's dead as earth.
Lend me a looking-glass;
If that her breath will mist or stain
the stone, why, then she lives.
This feather stirs; she lives!
If it be so, it is a chance
which does redeem all sorrows
that ever I have felt.
Is this the promised end?
Or image of that horror?
And my poor fool is hang'd.
No, no, no life!
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat,
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"The Dresser" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_dresser_20116>.
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