Four Plays

by John Osborne

  ISOBEL: I don’t think Adam ever really lost his rib.

  LEONARD: The effort of learning to live as you’re expected to is bad enough. But to find another way really is painful.

  ISOBEL: We’re none of us sufficiently prepared.

  LEONARD: Isobel, I think I love you. I do…

  ISOBEL: So do I… Is it so strange?

  LEONARD: So they’d have us believe. I believed it. We’ve no – trouble is – we can’t have any clear idea of the future.

  ISOBEL: If only it could be an improved version of the past. With its most particular moments. If it could be open but fixed and discernible. LEONARD: Pushes white out, drives what in… Have we gone mad?

  ISOBEL: No. Neither one of us. Mistaken perhaps but that’s not madness.

  LEONARD: We can never know each other. Do you think you can be unsexed by failure?

  ISOBEL: No… more likely success, like those rich young men in Regine’s room.

  LEONARD: All-exacting affairs, all-exacting marriages.

  No middle ground unless it’s just doggerel. You get pretty sick of doggerel.

  ISOBEL: It’s the poetry we’re after.

  LEONARD: You’re dead right. It’s the poetry we’re after. That’s the middle bit we’re after! Didn’t you say that earlier sometime?

  ISOBEL: No. You did.

  (LEONARD starts to undress in a rather baffled way, not yet drunk but slightly confused by his encounter with ISOBEL)

  LEONARD: Funny, meeting you here.

  ISOBEL: Yes.

  LEONARD: Sorry. Lot. Who said Art is made by the alone for the alone?

  ISOBEL: Don’t know. (She watches him carefully undressing.) Sounds true.

  LEONARD: Do you? Yes. So do I. That’s why we need Love. Otherwise we would be alone. Frighteningly. There’s not that much Art… Doesn’t bear thinking about…

  ISOBEL: Don’t fret.

  LEONARD: Sorry. Dirty habit. In public, anyway.

  ISOBEL: I wonder what the others are doing.

  LEONARD: Don’t care, do you?

  ISOBEL: No. I’ve got – no, she’s, Wain’s put in some shampoo for real friends.

  (He kisses her. He is now without jacket or trousers. He goes to a concealed built-in fridge and opens another bottle. They toast each other after the silence)

  LEONARD: To real friends.

  ISOBEL: Real friends. Shampoo. Are we being rude to our hostess? Disappearing so soon?

  LEONARD: Hell no. That’s what we’re here for. Well, not us so much. We’re more or less nobodies. A whim of Regine’s. The whole joint is bugged like Watergate. Two-way mirrors. God knows what.

  (ISOBEL looks slightly alarmed)

  Don’t mind, do you?

  ISOBEL: I don’t know. They must be pretty busy themselves by this time. Miss Shrift and Smash!

  LEONARD: Shall I turn the light off?

  ISOBEL: No, please…

  LEONARD: You’ve nothing to worry about. You look heart-bearing.

  ISOBEL: Thanks… So do you… (Looks down at himself.)

  LEONARD: Do I? Really? My wife used to say no man could look sexy in his socks.

  ISOBEL: Your wife was wrong.

  LEONARD: But right for her. But not for you.

  ISOBEL: No.

  LEONARD: Anyway, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take them off. I’ve got disgusting feet, I’m afraid.

  ISOBEL: Go ahead…

  LEONARD: I can’t believe it.

  ISOBEL: What?

  LEONARD: About you being no good at it.

  ISOBEL: I’ve been told.

  LEONARD: Don’t believe interested parties – if that’s what I mean… Yes, it is.

  ISOBEL: I think they were right.

  LEONARD: Well, it all – all –

  ISOBEL: Yes?

  LEONARD: Depends on what – I mean who it is. Surely? No?

  ISOBEL: Perhaps. But there must be a minimum standard of performance.

  LEONARD: Yes. Like my not getting it up. Good model but difficult to start. Use plenty of choke.

  ISOBEL: To at least give pleasure. If not please.

  LEONARD: You know that’s what’s nice about women. They don’t mind your beer belly or your bad breath or – bad breath…

  ISOBEL: Your grey hair. That’s nice.

  LEONARD: Ageing.

  ISOBEL: You’re young. That’s what’s nice about men. They can still be boys and yet men. Women can’t do that trick.

  LEONARD: Not so retarded.

  ISOBEL: People think I’m arrogant. They don’t know the effort it takes… I’m… tired of effort…

  LEONARD: My dear. (Solicitously.) Take your shoes off…

  (He takes them off and rubs her feet) Better?

  ISOBEL: Not bad for a man with your physical disadvantages…

  LEONARD: My children don’t care too much for me. What about yours?

  ISOBEL: They make excuses for me.

  LEONARD: I spent months alone in an Anderson air-raid shelter during the war. What with that and school, by the time I was sixteen I was heartily sick of myself.

  ISOBEL: Life may be hell but who can tell that unknown boredom from which no traveller returns.

  LEONARD: Perhaps we’re reincarnated.

  (During the rest of the scene, they are both slowly undressing.

  He unzips her at one point. As they chat)

  ISOBEL: Do you remember Margaret Rose?

  LEONARD: Rather! Have you ever thought of a woman er, well: fishing – alone; bird-watching alone; being a game-keeper; lighthouse keeper; butterfly collector?

  (Pause)

  ISOBEL: No.

  LEONARD: Neither can I. I can’t imagine myself either. I’d like to see you, oh, say, bird-watching.

  ISOBEL: Ambition… Amazonian.

  LEONARD: Travel agents! Ugh!

  ISOBEL: Can you imagine anyone painting their friends?

  LEONARD: I suppose they do.

  ISOBEL: Yes, but how many? Can you think of a woman as a comrade? Not a thick communist, you understand?

  LEONARD: Yes… Yes. I can. Who will be tomorrow’s portraits?

  ISOBEL: Do you think woman can connect? Like priests say.

  LEONARD: Difficult that one. Yes. I do. But by their insides. Nuns are pretty funny. Just think of a world where masturbation is TAUGHT. To the WANKING classes of the world – unite! You may not be able to get it up sometime.

  ISOBEL: ‘Whereof one cannot speak, Thereof one must be silent’

  LEONARD: I mean a chap must be utterly chaotic inside?

  ISOBEL: How else to give birth to a dancing star?

  LEONARD: Dreading pain. Paining Dread.

  (By this point, they are both almost totally unclothed. They slide into bed almost absent-mindedly like a long-married couple and sit up talking in the same manner as before.)

  Where is the fall of the sparrow now? Where’s the bloody sparrow?

  ISOBEL: I think we might be a couple of sparrows.

  LEONARD: So do I, you know. (Hums)

  ‘Singing like a sparrow on the top of a tree.’ There is she.

  ISOBEL: There is he. Waving of their handkerchees.

  LEONARD/ISOBEL: ‘Singing like two sparrows on the top of a tree!’

  (They giggle slightly.)

  LEONARD: Fancy you knowing that!

  ISOBEL: Fancy you knowing it. Bit before both our times.

  LEONARD: Music hall. You liked that.

  ISOBEL: Some women actually enjoy jokes too, you know.

  LEONARD: I suppose they must do. It’s our fault. We oversell them. And get all loud and noisy and hectoring.

  ISOBEL: My son says he’s going to be a drop-out.

  LEONARD: The trouble with that is someone may not pick you up but just leave you there.

  ISOBEL: Exactly what I told him.

  LEONARD: You may be a falling or fallen star. But you can’t be a prone one. Not for starters, anyway…

  ISOBEL: People ask me if I worry about him… Don�
�t you hate those people who say: Will it be all right?

  LEONARD: The Doomsters. How will you manage? Aren’t you worried? But supposing that… ? Isn’t it a bit of a risk? Yes, it bloody well is! I I was at risk the moment I drew breath. I’ll bet the Wright Brothers had some cheery neighbours. Supposing it just falls down, Orville? Aren’t you worried, Mr Galileo? But do you think the Pope will like it, Michaelangelo? Sure you don’t want to change your mind, JC? You look awfully uncomfortable up there. But it’s only an ordinary little apple, Sir Isaac. My wife has silly dreams all the time, Dr. Freud. We’re always laughing at them.

  ISOBEL: You know the one about the professor who’d heard that there was still a very old attendant at the British Museum who remembered Karl Marx going into the Reading Room?

  LEONARD: No?

  ISOBEL: Well, the visiting professor finally tracks down this ancient old attendant and asks him if he remembers Karl Marx in the Reading Room. Mr Marx? says the old man. Mr Marx? Oh yes, I remember him very well. Bearded gentleman. Used to come in every day for years. Could set your watch by him. Every day for years. Every day for years. Then, one day, he didn’t turn up and – and he never came in again! Never. Funny thing. And nobody’s heard anything of him ever since!

  LEONARD: Don’t you worry about your eyesight, Mr Marx? The thing is to use your language and not someone else’s.

  ISOBEL: Exactly. I seem to have been mouthing other people’s words all these years… Not my own.

  LEONARD: But – well, like in marriage, no, not just marriage: how does one avoid cruelty? And still be honest and survive? Do you like nudes? Female, of course. Male doesn’t count. It’s only fit for photography.

  ISOBEL: Yes. I do. It’s the eternal subject.

  LEONARD: Glorious pursuit of the impossible. All nude painting is religious. It’s exploring the unknowable.

  ISOBEL: Like God.

  LEONARD: Distorted bodies, ravaged bodies, sad bodies, proud bodies. All points in the great circle… I’m so glad.

  ISOBEL: Thanks.

  LEONARD: The trouble with my wife was that I confided in her. Too much. Too rich for the blood. And it would come back at me later like a brick. No. That was a mistake. Confiding. Overdid it. Not enough restraint. Do you have restraint?

  ISOBEL: I ape it. But that’s all.

  LEONARD: I once knew a couple – both divorced – who married each other because the children wanted them to!

  ISOBEL: People like that give heterosexuals a bad name.

  LEONARD: It’s the food of all painters and their nudes, the priests with their clouds of unknowing. Marriage should be a vision of excellence. EXCELLENCE. The stuff they don’t make or want any more.

  ISOBEL: No demand for it nowadays, madam.

  LEONARD: But a vision.

  ISOBEL: A vision.

  (They turn to look at each other. Pause)

  LEONARD: I am in love with you. (Puzzled pleasure)

  ISOBEL: And I with you…

  LEONARD: Isn’t it extraordinary…?

  ISOBEL: Weird…

  LEONARD: Shall we?

  ISOBEL: Yes…

  (They embrace.)

  LEONARD: Shall I turn the light out?

  ISOBEL: No…

  LEONARD: Remember –

  ISOBEL: Yes?

  LEONARD: Well, if I… No, it’s going to be all right.

  ISOBEL: It will. Desire shall not fail… And you remember…

  LEONARD: What?

  ISOBEL: It’s only a vision.

  LEONARD: And that’s what we’re both after.

  ISOBEL: A vision…

  (They embrace)

  Scene 3

  The Sitting Room. Early morning. ISOBEL is lying on a sofa with LEONARD’s head in her lap. They are both fully dressed, very sleepy and contented almost to the point of smugness. WAIN comes in with a breakfast tray and sets it down before them. He coughs.

  ISOBEL: Oh, thank you, Wain. I’m starving.

  LEONARD: So am I.

  ISOBEL: After all that exercise. Talk about Olympic Games.

  LEONARD: Well, you’re certainly the Muhammad Ali of the century. You are the greatest, man.

  ISOBEL: And you’re the greatest, man.

  (They kiss.)

  LEONARD: Not very good at it! You’re the World Cup winner.

  ISOBEL: Can’t get it up! Down more likely. Down, Fido!

  LEONARD: Well, Fido is a bit sore this morning, I must admit.

  ISOBEL: I’m surprised he’s still there. What about me

  My vision’s pretty sore round its edges.

  LEONARD: Darling. You are a vision.

  ISOBEL: So are you. Let’s eat before we slope off.

  (REGINE enters)

  REGINE: Oh, good morning, you two. Up already.

  Sleep well?

  ISOBEL: Not a wink.

  LEONARD: Not one.

  ISOBEL: Marvellous.

  LEONARD: Magnificent.

  ISOBEL: Super, comfy bed, Regine.

  REGINE: Well, I’m glad it was such a success. You both look as if you’ve had a – vision.

  ISOBEL: We have.

  LEONARD: The two of us.

  ISOBEL: A flash only –

  LEONARD: But such a flash…

  ISOBEL: Of the journey.

  LEONARD: We don’t know where we’re going.

  ISOBEL: And we never shall.

  LEONARD: But we’ve started the journey.

  ISOBEL: Together.

  LEONARD: Like Paul and Barnabas.

  ISOBEL: Perhaps we should re-name ourselves.

  LEONARD: You be Paul –

  ISOBEL: And you be Barnabas.

  LEONARD: Morning, Paul.

  ISOBEL: Howdy, Barnabas.

  (They kiss.)

  LEONARD: Had any good visions lately?

  ISOBEL: Ecstatic.

  LEONARD: So have I.

  ISOBEL: But I’m a bit new to this missioning and journeys.

  LEONARD: Me too. But we’ll pick it up.

  ISOBEL: We have picked it up.

  REGINE: You two are very odd. Don’t tell me you’ve –

  ISOBEL: Fallen in love?

  LEONARD: Utterly.

  REGINE: You are mad. Perhaps the country air doesn’t agree with you. That champagne was all right, wasn’t it, Wain?

  WAIN: Yes, m’lady.

  REGINE: Have all the others breakfasted?

  WAIN: They’re all down.

  REGINE: Good.

  WAIN: Or gone.

  REGINE: Gone? Who?

  WAIN: The gentlemen, m’lady.

  REGINE: But who? Why?

  WAIN: Mr Nates and Mr Bigley left in Mr Bigley’s helicopter. They said to say: Thanks for all the wild entertainment. And they’d ‘see you around’. Mr West said he’d not enjoyed himself so much for years. He’d ring you from Fleet Street. He went back to ‘file some copy’ in his office. Mr Black had to go to a preview in the provinces somewhere. He said to thank you for all the fun and he’d be getting to you about backing his new show. Mr Stewkes apologised but said he had to go to his constituency surgery and also prepare a speech for the House next week about blackmail and vice in the country. Mr Deel’s group arrived in a van to take him to a gig in Newcastle. He told me to tell you he’d had a great, funky time. Mr Withers left in his car. He said he had to ‘get to the bank as soon as it opened’. He told me to tell you. Mr Stan had given him a letter of authorisation.

  REGINE: Letter of authorisation! My God, they’ll have opened it already.

  WAIN: He asked me to give you this note.

  (She tears it open and reads it aloud)

  REGINE: ‘National Newspapers Ltd. Male is gender – chauvinist is excessive love of country. Pigs is ladies’ jargon. I know you’ve been “had” many times but not like this. Thank you for a delightful and enjoyable stay in your gorgeous place. Kindest wishes for now and the future, yours gratefully and patriotically, Ashley Withers.’ The snake!!

  LEONARD: Not pigs.<
br />
  ISOBEL: I like piggies.

  REGINE: Get Mr Stan, will you.

  WAIN: He’s putting his suitcases in the car, m’lady.

  REGINE: Suitcases! Everyone’s gone mad! Get him in here.

  (WAIN goes out. STELLA, LETITIA, JOG and GWEN enter.)

  STELLA: I’m mad with that Smash Deel. My wrist is falling off. How were yours?

  LETITIA: So-so. Usual.

  GWEN: Draggy.

  JOG: Real

  PIGGY. Horrible. Men! They won’t know what’s hit them.

  STELLA: Those two look very starry.

  REGINE: They’re in love, my dear.

  FOUR GIRLS: In love!

  STELLA: Is there a doctor in the house!

  LETITIA: What larks!

  GWEN: But is he filthy rich or something?

  JOG: Just filthy! Ugh!

  REGINE: Everything’s gone wrong. There’s been a plot to bring us down.

  JOG: Counter-revolutionary?

  REGINE: You bet your life it’s counter-revolutionary. And my Stan, my STAN has been the one under the counter right from the outset.

  STELLA: Stan. But he’s a, a NO-man.

  REGINE: He’s a man all right. Treacherous. Betrayer. (Calls.) Stan! Stan! Judas!

  (STAN comes in armed with camera equipment and a plane ticket in his hand.)

  STAN: Call me?

  REGINE: Where do you think you’re going?

  STAN: Sunny Spain.

  STELLA: On holiday?

  STAN: No. To live. For good. Nice and luxurious. Own villa, birds, everything.

  REGINE: To live ! What about us?

  STAN: You’ve got this, haven’t you? Anyhow, we’re not married or anything like that.

  REGINE: Where’s last night’s film and photographs and everything?

  STAN: Gave them to the newspaper proprietor geezer. Withers.

  REGINE: You gave it to him! (It really is sinking into her now) And the rest! All the archives! The boxes! The bank!

  STAN: Oh, he’s got the lot.

  REGINE: All of it!

  STAN: All of it. He just rang me to say he’d got it safely. I’m picking up my cheque on the way to the airport.