Waiting for Godot Page #4

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over me. Forgive me.

Forget all I said.

I don't remember exactly what

it was, but you may be sure

there wasn't a word of truth in it.

Do I look like a man that can

be made to suffer?

Frankly?

What have I done with my pipe?

- Charming evening we're having.

- Unforgettable.

And it's not over.

- Apparently not.

- It's only beginning.

- It's awful.

- Worse than the pantomime.

- The circus.

- The music-hall.

The circus.

What can I have done with that briar?

He's a scream. He's lost his dudeen.

I'll be back.

End of the corridor, on the left.

Keep my seat.

I've lost my Kapp and Peterson!

He'll be the death of me!

You didn't see by any chance?

Oh! He's gone!

Without saying goodbye! How could he!

He might have waited!

He would have burst.

Who? Who in that case...

- Come here.

- What for?

- You'll see.

- You want me to get up?

Quick!

Look!

Oh I say!

It's all over.

He's not pleased.

You missed a treat. Pity.

He subsides.

Indeed all subsides.

A great calm descends.

Listen!

Pan sleeps.

Will night never come?

You don't feel like going until

it does?

Well you see?

Why it's very natural, very natural.

I myself in your situation, if

I had an appointment with a Godet...

Godin...

Godet...

Godot...

Anyhow, you see who I mean,...

I'd wait till it was black night

before I gave up.

I'd very much like to sit down,..

but I don't quite know how to go

about it.

Could I be of any help?

- If you asked me perhaps.

- What?

If you asked me to sit down.

- Would that be a help?

- I fancy so.

Here we go.

Be seated, Sir, I beg of you.

No no, I wouldn't think of it!

Ask me again.

Come come, take a seat I beseech you,

you'll get pneumonia.

You really think so?

It's absolutely certain.

No doubt you are right.

Thank you, dear fellow.

Done it again!

But I must really be getting along,

if I am to observe my schedule.

Time has stopped.

Don't you believe it, Sir,

don't you believe it.

Whatever you like, but not that.

Everything seems black to him today.

Except the firmament.

But I see what it is,..

...you are not from these parts, you

don't know what our twilights can do.

Shall I tell you?

I can't refuse you.

Have you...

- Where was I?

- Let's go.

Ah yes! The night.

Look!

Will you look at the sky, pig!

Good, that's enough.

What is there so extraordinary

about it?

Qua sky.

It is pale and luminous like any

sky at this hour of the day.

At this time a year...

In these latitudes.

When the weather is fine.

An hour ago...

...roughly after having poured

forth even since say...

...ten o'clock in the morning tirelessly

torrents of red and white light...

...it begins to lose its effulgence,..

...to grow pale...

pale...

...ever a little paler,..

a little paler

until...

pppfff!

Finished!

It comes to rest.

But?

But behind this veil of gentleness

and peace,..

night is charging and will burst

upon us...

pop!

Like that!

Just when we least expect it.

That's how it is on this b*tch

of an earth.

So long as one knows.

One can bide one's time.

One knows what to expect.

No further need to worry.

Simply wait.

We're used to it.

Gentleman!

How did you find me?

Good?

Fair?

Middling?

Poor?

Positively bad?

Oh very good, very very good.

And you, Sir?

Oh tray bong, tray tray tray bong.

Thats ok.

Bless you.

I have such need of encouragement!

I weakened a little towards the end,

you didn't notice?

Oh perhaps just a teeny weeny

little bit.

I thought it was intentional.

You see my memory...

...is defective.

In the meantime, nothing happens.

You find it tedious?

Somewhat.

And you, Sir?

I've been better entertained.

Gentlemen,..

you have been civil to me.

- Not at all!

- What an idea!

Yes yes, you have been correct.

So that I ask myself is there anything

I can do in my turn for these

honest fellows who are having

such a dull,..

...dull time.

Even fifty pence would be a help.

We are not beggars!

Is there anything I can do, that's

what I ask myself, to cheer them up?

I have given them bones, I have

talked to them about this...

and that, I have explained the

twilight, admittedly. But is it enough,

that's what tortures me, is it enough?

- Even twenty five.

- That's enough!

- I couldn't accept less.

- Is it enough?

No doubt.

But I am liberal. It's my nature.

This evening.

So much the worse for me.

For I shall suffer,

no doubt about that.

What do you prefer?

Shall we have him dance,..

or sing...

or recite,..

- or think, or?

- Who?

Who!

You know how to think, you two?

- He thinks?

- Certainly.

Aloud.

He even used to think very prettily once,

I could listen to him for hours.

Now...

So much the worse for me.

Well, show we have him to think

something for us?

- I'd rather he dance, it'd be more fun.

- Not necessarily.

Wouldn't it, Didi, be more fun?

I'd like well to hear him think.

Perhaps he could dance first

and think afterwards,..

if it isn't too much to ask him.

Would that be possible?

By all means, nothing simpler.

It's the natural order.

Then let him dance.

Do you hear, hog?

He never refuses?

He refused once.

Dance, misery!

Is that all?

Encore!

I'd do as well myself.

With a little practice.

He is tired.

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?

The Scapegoat's Agony.

The Hard Stool.

The Net.

He thinks he's entangled in a net.

Nobody comes,..

nobody goes,..

it's awful!

Tell him to think.

Give him his hat.

His hat?

He can't think without his hat.

Give him his hat.

Me! After what he did to me!

Never!

I'll give it to him.

Tell him to go and fetch it.

It's better to give it to him.

I'll give it to him.

You must put it on his head.

Tell him to take it.

It's better to put it on his head.

I'll put it on his head.

What's he waiting for?

Stand back!

Think, pig!

Stop!

Forward!

Stop!

Think!

On the other hand with regard to?

Stop!

Back!

Stop!

Think!

Given the existence as uttered

forth in the 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

are plunged in torment plunged in fire

whose fire flames if that continues

and who can doubt it will fire

the firmament that is to say blast

hell to heaven

so blue still and calm

so calm with a calm which even though

intermittent is better than nothing

but not so fast and considering

what is more

that as a result of

the labors left unfinished crowned

by the Acacacacademy of Anthropopopometry

of Essy-in-Possy of Testew and Cunard

it is established beyond all doubt

all other doubt than that which clings

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