BOUCICAULT (Quickly): In the reading. This Saturday. You’ll be there, I hope.
FISHER: I don’t know yet if I’m available for the full production.
BOUCICAULT (To Forrest): So we’ll have to hold our breath for a while.
(Short pause.)
FORREST (Distracted, pointing to a glass): Is this mine?
AGNES: That one there. Yes.
(Forrest drinks.)
FORREST: The house was full tonight I gather. It felt that way.
BOUCICAULT: Packed.
AGNES: Thank you for the seats.
RYDER: The couple next to us was sobbing at the end.
(Beat.)
AGNES: I was sobbing at the end.
(Beat.)
BOUCICAULT: If I were to attempt an Indian play, Mr. Forrest, I don’t imagine you’d be interested in seeing—
FORREST (Not listening): Sometimes you can feel an audience giving back as much as you are trying to give them. (Beat) It felt like that. You were a good audience.
BOUCICAULT: I know exactly what you mean.
FORREST: And sometimes— (Turns to Ryder) How is Mr. Macready? I meant to write him today.
RYDER: He’s— In shock? (Shrugs) How should he be?
BOUCICAULT: I was there, you know. We were. It was unbelievable.
FORREST (To Ryder): What about his wounds? I heard—he was cut?
BOUCICAULT: There was blood all over the stage. When he walked off, Macready’s face was covered. You couldn’t see his—
RYDER: It was cut. On his forehead. (Turns to Boucicault) It looked worse than it was.
(Short pause.)
FORREST (Without looking at anyone): I’ve heard someone—someone was saying, I forget who it was—they were saying that people think I’m somehow . . . (Beat) That I bear a responsibility.
BOUCICAULT: For last night?
FORREST: This is what I’ve heard.
FISHER: People are nervous, all kinds of things are being said.
RYDER: I have heard this as well, Mr. Forrest. You try to tell people that—
AGNES: No one can—
FORREST: As if attacking Macready’s Macbeth was somehow praising mine. This is thinking I do not grasp myself. (Smiles) It’s ridiculous. It’s unfair. If they knew—if only someone had come to me and said there could be trouble. I now understand there were threats made days ago.
RYDER: Mr. Forrest—
FORREST: Let me finish. Where was Mr. Macready? Why did he not confide in me? We had dinner only the other day. He said nothing, isn’t that right, Mr. Ryder? You were there.
RYDER: That’s correct.
FORREST: Just the other day, we had dinner. My wife and I did. (Beat. He sighs) As if I don’t have enough to worry about. (Beat) We don’t know who these thugs were, do we? Or even what they wanted. (Shakes his head) It seems so unnecessary. (Beat) How many were there? I’ve heard at least ten different accounts.
BOUCICAULT: They were in the balcony. Most of them were in the balcony, weren’t they?
FORREST: I’ve even heard . . . (Beat) I’m sure this is not true. You were there. I’m sure he did the right thing. (Beat) But someone was saying—who was it? (Shrugs) They were saying that if Macready had only stayed on the stage and shouted back at them.
AGNES: He tried this. (Turns to Boucicault) Have you—
FORREST: Oh. Then he tried.
BOUCICAULT: Not for that long though.
FORREST: Really? (Beat) I mean we’ve all had audiences that—I don’t know. Can’t be pleased, I suppose. Nothing will please them. (Beat) We get such audiences here. Maybe not in England, but—
BOUCICAULT: You get them in England. You really get them in Scotland.
AGNES: Scotland can be bad, this is true.
FORREST: Then you know what I’m talking about. How sometimes one needs to fight back. To assert oneself. You let a crowd have their way . . . (Shrugs) If you don’t lead . . . (Beat) I’m sure it’s not true, but it is possible that Mr. Macready—for whatever reason—was simply unable to lead. Unable to do his job. (Beat) And so—he ran away.
RYDER: I don’t think that’s fair.
FORREST: Is it fair to blame me?
(Short pause.)
RYDER: No. That isn’t fair either.
FORREST: Because some unhappy people decide to rip up some seats while shouting out my name?
RYDER: They shouted your name? That I hadn’t heard. (To Boucicault) Did you—?
BOUCICAULT: They did. That’s true.
FORREST: I’m an actor. What can I do? (Beat) People sit in their seats and dream about you, until what they dream isn’t you. (Beat) What people shout . . . (Shrugs) I have enough things . . . (Pause. Looks to Agnes and Boucicault) My wife, Catherine—she left me today. This morning.
AGNES: Oh God, I’m sorry—
FORREST: She’d—had enough, she said. So she walked out. (Beat) I don’t need this other— I did nothing wrong!! He should have just yelled them down. Had the guts to yell them down. And then all of . . .
(Macready has entered with Clark and Bradshaw.)
MACREADY: Mr. Forrest.
(Forrest turns and stands.)
FORREST: You don’t look any worse for wear. Please, won’t you—
MACREADY: We just took a table in the next room. I heard you were here and . . . (Beat) I want to thank you for changing to Metamora.
(Forrest nods.)
It will help to— This so-called rivalry.
FORREST: What rivalry? (Beat) I heard that in some quarters we are both being blamed for what happened last night.
MACREADY: I had not heard that we both were being blamed.
RYDER: Mr. Forrest was just saying that they were shouting out his name.
MACREADY: I remember hearing it very distinctly.
FORREST: It will all calm down.
MACREADY: Of course it will. (Beat) It has nothing to do with us, does it?
FORREST: No. Nothing.
(Beat.)
MACREADY (Suddenly turning to Ryder): Where have you been, John? I expected to see you this evening.
RYDER: I went to Mr. Forrest’s Metamora. I told you I was going. I asked you to go.
MACREADY: Did you? (Beat) I suppose it is all very—original. My loss, no doubt. Get us some liquor, will you? Different kinds. You choose. (Turns to go, stops, goes back) Oh, I forgot. You need my money, don’t you? (Puts money on the table) Don’t be too long.
(Macready, Clark and Bradshaw, both who have stayed at some distance, now leave. Pause.)
RYDER: I better . . . (Stands) Perhaps, first I’ll finish my wine. (Sits) I just have a sip left. (Drinks it)
FORREST: Let me fill up your glass.
(After some hesitation, Ryder hands him his glass. Forrest pours him another drink.)
On tour, a few years ago, in a small southern town, I happened to cast as my Ophelia the daughter of a preacher. (Beat) I had not known this. And the true extent of his rage had been kept from me. (Beat) But as I made my first entrance, I heard the clicks of many revolvers being cocked. (Beat) You know, it never occurred to me to leave that stage.
(Pause. Then blackout.)
SCENE 4
2 A.M.
A small attic apartment.
Forrest and Ryder come up the stairs (up through a trap); they carry lanterns.
FORREST: I’m surprised you’re even interested. Watch your step.
RYDER: I’m interested in talking about anything. And everything.
FORREST (Holding up the lantern and looking around the room): I told you it was small. But it is convenient. Put it over there.
(Ryder sets down his lantern.)
Sit down, sit down. (Beat) One block from the theatre. (Lights another lantern) It is a place to get away.
RYDER: I’m sure—
FORREST: Sit down, please, Mr. Ryder. And when they throw you out of the tavern, it is a place to get a drink. Let me get you that drink. (Goes to a cabinet and takes out a bottle, glasses,
etc. Pause) It’s cold tonight. Cold for May. (Beat) Feels like it’s going to rain. But that I am sure is something you are used to.
RYDER: Rain? (Smiles) I don’t miss it.
FORREST: Do you miss anything? (Beat) Won’t you miss—?
RYDER: I haven’t agreed to anything, Mr.— Ned. I thought we were just . . . (Beat) I’d probably be interested in a season. (Beat) A four- or five-month season. Depending on where it is. Where you are going. There’s much more of this country I’d like to see. I’m not homesick yet. (Looks at him) I admired your performance tonight enormously.
(The door opens and Miss Bass enters, a blanket around her shoulders. Underneath she is naked, having just been woken up.)
MISS BASS: What time is it—? (Sees Ryder) Oh, I’ll . . . I didn’t know you’d . . .
FORREST: Have a drink with us, Jane. You know John, of course.
MISS BASS: Yes, of course. Let me get some clothes on.
(She goes. Pause.)
FORREST: She lives here. (Beat) She looks after it for me. (Beat) I’m pleased you enjoyed Metamora tonight. I paid for that play, you know. Had a contest. The best play on an American topic. (Beat) That came in. It was a mess. Wrote three-quarters of it myself. (Beat) Fits like a glove now. Could play some of it in my sleep. And they can’t get enough of it. Anywhere I go. (Beat) You’ll see yourself. (Beat) I don’t need anyone for Metamora.
RYDER: I wasn’t suggesting— That’s not why I—
FORREST: I need a Buckingham. (Beat) A Mercutio. An Edgar, son of Gloucester. As well as Macduff of course.
RYDER: That’s very generous.
FORREST: Between you and me . . . We can talk about Iago another time.
RYDER: I’ve played Iago.
FORREST: That’s good to know. (Short pause) In my production he’s very subtle. The man who plays him now is very good.
RYDER: I’ll come and see—
FORREST: We do New Orleans, St. Louis, Cincinnati, then to Baltimore and Philadelphia. Then back here for a month for Hackett. (Beat) This is November.
RYDER: I thought Boucicault’s play was to be done by Hackett in—
FORREST: The problem of course is can I afford you. (Beat) You are probably very expensive.
RYDER: You know what you paid for one Macduff.
FORREST: You are very expensive.
(Miss Bass enters, having quickly dressed.)
(Getting up) Let me get you a—
MISS BASS: I can get a drink myself.
(Forrest sits back down. Short pause.)
RYDER: I should probably be— (Starts to stand)
FORREST: Don’t be silly. Sit down. We don’t have that many guests, do we?
(Ryder sits. Short pause.)
MISS BASS: I’m sorry I couldn’t join you at the tavern tonight. I was exhausted. (Beat) Did I miss anything?
FORREST: Did you miss—? Did she, John?
RYDER: I . . . (Shrugs. He has been fiddling with a manuscript that is in front of him)
FORREST: Boucicault’s play. Take a look if you want. (Beat) I’m supposed to be reading it. (Beat) He asked me to— (Turns to Miss Bass) I’ve read most of it. I’ve read some of it. He says Macready’s interested if you can believe that.
RYDER: I doubt if— (Beat) I don’t know.
MISS BASS: I’ve tried to read it tonight. (Rolls her eyes and laughs. Short pause)
FORREST: John loved Metamora.
MISS BASS: Ned wrote most of that.
(Pause.)
RYDER: It’s a lovely apartment. (To Miss Bass) It’s yours?
(She turns to Forrest, then back.)
MISS BASS: Yeah. (Beat) It’s mine.
RYDER: It’s very convenient.
MISS BASS: Isn’t it?
FORREST: John has asked to join us for a season.
RYDER: I haven’t actually— (Stops himself and smiles) If Ned can find a place for me. (Short pause. Suddenly stands) Really, it is late. I must go.
(No one else gets up.)
Thank you for the drink.
FORREST (Gesturing that he could stand): Let me.
RYDER: I think I can let myself out. (Takes the lantern) Miss Bass. (Beat) Ned.
(He goes. Long pause.)
MISS BASS (Finally): Do you want to go to bed?
(Forrest doesn’t respond.)
It was nice having company. It was nice to—entertain. This way. (Beat) He’s a nice man. Why he wants to work in America when—
FORREST: He liked my performance. He wants to work with me.
MISS BASS: I didn’t mean . . . (Beat) He must have many reasons. Maybe things in England weren’t working out so . . . I don’t know, Ned. I’m sorry I brought it up.
(He sips his drink. Short pause.)
I ran into our landlord this morning. (Beat) The rent’s due. (Beat) I know I reminded you already, but—I didn’t know if you’d forgotten. (Beat) Sometimes you do forget. (Laughs. He doesn’t seem to hear her) Ned? (Beat) My— (Opens her mouth widely) I broke a tooth.
(He looks at her.)
I’m sorry to bring it up now. I know you’re tired but— (Beat) This is the only chance we seem to have, so . . .
(He takes out some money and sets it down.)
I don’t like to beg.
FORREST: You’re not begging.
(Short pause.)
MISS BASS: My mother wrote. She’s finally coming to visit. I don’t believe it, I’ve asked her a hundred times. (Beat) I guess she finally accepts my being an actress. (Laughs to herself) She wants to stay here. She thinks it’s—mine. (Beat) She’ll stay for three weeks.
(Short pause. Forrest just sits there.)
Do you mind? (Beat) Do you mind? (Short pause)
(Blackout.)
SCENE 5
LATER THAT NIGHT
Macready’s room, New York Hotel.
Macready asleep, drunk, in a chair. Ryder sits in another chair, reading Boucicault’s manuscript. Pause. Suddenly Macready screams—he’s having a nightmare.
RYDER: It’s all right. Calm down. It’s me. It’s me.
(Macready opens his eyes, he breathes heavily; looks around him.)
You had a dream.
(Pause. Heavy breathing; rubs his eyes.)
MACREADY: How long have I— When did you . . .?
RYDER: You asked me in, remember? We were talking. You were telling me about the meeting. (Beat) With Irving. (Beat) You fell asleep.
MACREADY: What time is it?
RYDER: Nearly half past four.
MACREADY: I can’t sleep in my bed.
RYDER: That’s what you’d been saying . . . That’s why— (Gestures “I am here”) Let me get you a drink. It helped before.
MACREADY: I’m going to smell for days. (Smiles) My spit will intoxicate at least the first three rows.
(Even bigger smile. Ryder brings him a drink. He sips.)
It was an actor’s dream, John.
RYDER: Not surprising.
MACREADY: The actor’s dream. (Beat) Do cobblers and coat makers have their dreams? One wonders. Though mine was an interesting variation. It wasn’t that I could not remember my lines or what part I was playing or which play I was in, rather—it was the reverse. (Beat) In my dream, I was speaking all the parts. One second I was— Whatever. I can’t remember. Then the next, I was speaking back to me. Then entering to tell me something. Then telling me to leave so I could be alone and have my soliloquy. (Beat) Rather exhausting this was. And rather unnerving to the other actors whose parts I was obviously usurping. Thus one by one they—my fellow actors—retreated from the stage and allowed me to be alone with various other me’s. (Beat) One or two left quite angrily too. This I could not understand. After all I was much better than they could ever hope to be. They should have appreciated this. (Short pause) When it came time for Macduff to kill Macbeth—so obviously this was Macbeth—I found myself in a quandary, of course. (Laughs to himself) The audience was cheering. They screamed. Were they praising my performing? Were they
after my death? I did not understand the effect I was having. (Beat) And then—as the script calls for it—I killed myself, or rather my Macduff killed my Macbeth. And the pain, it was horrific. (Short pause. Looks at Ryder) I knew every part, and was good. (Laughs. Beat) I shall be afraid now to go to sleep again. The sun should be up when?
(Ryder shrugs.)
What time did you come here?
RYDER: It was a little after two.
MACREADY: And I was up then?
RYDER: I think you had been asleep, but . . .
(Short pause.)
MACREADY (Suddenly starts): Had I written to my wife?! I always write to my wife!
RYDER: Yes. You had. It’s . . . (Nods to the table. Short pause.)
MACREADY (Suddenly starts again): And when you came, there were crowds in the streets. Angry crowds!
RYDER: No. (Beat) The streets were . . . A few carts. A few people. (Beat) That must have been another dream.
(Macready notices the manuscript in Ryder’s hands.)
Boucicault’s play. I see he gave you a copy. (Beat) Did you read it?
MACREADY: I looked at it. (Beat) Forrest is interested. That’s what one hears.
RYDER: I wouldn’t know. I don’t— (Beat) Maybe.
(Pause.)
MACREADY: They say I will be safe. Besides the police they may even circle the entire theatre with soldiers. Nothing can happen. (Beat) Soldiers. (Beat) What a country. And now you want to stay here. This is what you were telling me, wasn’t it? (Beat) See, I was awake.
RYDER: I didn’t think—
MACREADY: I was even listening.
(Beat.)
RYDER: Then you know, and that is that.
MACREADY: Is it? (Beat) I paid your way here and back, Mr. Ryder.
RYDER: I have done everything you’ve asked.
MACREADY: You were brought here to work for me, not for Mr. Forrest!
RYDER: I shall make sure you are safely on a ship and very comfortable. That’s where my responsibility ends!
(Pause.)
MACREADY (To himself): Alone on the stage. The actors are deserting me. Dreams and life. Life and dreams. How can you stomach such a country where soldiers stand around theatres?! (Beat) When audiences— But of course you didn’t see this. You were busy playing for Mr. Forrest.
RYDER: You agreed that I could.
MACREADY: How could I say no? (Beat) This does not mean I approved, John. I had hoped you’d have recognized your own responsibility. Your own duty. But . . . (Beat) This is how one learns about one’s friends. (Short pause) I will never employ you again. (Beat) Never.
Goodnight Children Everywhere and Other Plays Page 16