MISS FORSYTHE: Letta might not be able to stay long.
LETTA: I gotta get up very early tomorrow. I got jury duty. I’m so excited! Were you fellows ever on a jury?
BIFF: No, but I been in front of them! The girls laugh. This is my father.
LETTA: Isn’t he cute? Sit down with us, Pop.
HAPPY: Sit him down, Biff!
BIFF, going to him: Come on, slugger, drink us under the table. To hell with it! Come on, sit down, pal.
On Biff’s last insistence, Willy is about to sit.
THE WOMAN, now urgently: Willy, are you going to answer the door!
The Woman’s call pulls Willy back. He starts right, befuddled.
BIFF: Hey, where are you going?
WILLY: Open the door.
BIFF: The door?
WILLY: The washroom . . . the door . . . where’s the door?
BIFF, leading Willy to the left: Just go straight down.
Willy moves left.
THE WOMAN: Willy, Willy, are you going to get up, get up, get up, get up?
Willy exits left.
LETTA: I think it’s sweet you bring your daddy along.
MISS FORSYTHE: Oh, he isn’t really your father!
BIFF, at left, turning to her resentfully: Miss Forsythe, you’ve just seen a prince walk by. A fine, troubled prince. A hardworking, unappreciated prince. A pal, you understand? A good companion. Always for his boys.
LETTA: That’s so sweet.
HAPPY: Well, girls, what’s the program? We’re wasting time. Come on, Biff. Gather round. Where would you like to go?
BIFF: Why don’t you do something for him?
HAPPY: Me!
BIFF: Don’t you give a damn for him, Hap?
HAPPY: What’re you talking about? I’m the one who—
BIFF: I sense it, you don’t give a good goddam about him. He takes the rolled-up hose from his pocket and puts it on the table in front of Happy. Look what I found in the cellar, for Christ’s sake. How can you bear to let it go on?
HAPPY: Me? Who goes away? Who runs off and—
BIFF: Yeah, but he doesn’t mean anything to you. You could help him—I can’t. Don’t you understand what I’m talking about? He’s going to kill himself, don’t you know that?
HAPPY: Don’t I know it! Me!
BIFF: Hap, help him! Jesus . . . help him. . . . Help me, help me, I can’t bear to look at his face! Ready to weep, he hurries out, up right.
HAPPY, starting after him: Where are you going?
MISS FORSYTHE: What’s he so mad about?
HAPPY: Come on, girls, we’ll catch up with him.
MISS FORSYTHE, as Happy pushes her out: Say, I don’t like that temper of his!
HAPPY: He’s just a little overstrung, he’ll be all right!
WILLY, off left, as The Woman laughs: Don’t answer! Don’t answer!
LETTA: Don’t you want to tell your father—
HAPPY: No, that’s not my father. He’s just a guy. Come on, we’ll catch Biff, and, honey, we’re going to paint this town! Stanley, where’s the check! Hey, Stanley!
They exit. Stanley looks toward left.
STANLEY, calling to Happy indignantly: Mr. Loman! Mr. Loman!
Stanley picks up a chair and follows them off. Knocking is heard off left. The Woman enters, laughing. Willy follows her. She is in a black slip; he is buttoning his shirt. Raw, sensuous music accompanies their speech.
WILLY: Will you stop laughing? Will you stop?
THE WOMAN: Aren’t you going to answer the door? He’ll wake the whole hotel.
WILLY: I’m not expecting anybody.
THE WOMAN: Whyn’t you have another drink, honey, and stop being so damn self-centered?
WILLY: I’m so lonely.
THE WOMAN: You know you ruined me, Willy? From now on, whenever you come to the office, I’ll see that you go right through to the buyers. No waiting at my desk any more, Willy. You ruined me.
WILLY: That’s nice of you to say that.
THE WOMAN: Gee, you are self-centered! Why so sad? You are the saddest, self-centeredest soul I ever did see-saw. She laughs. He kisses her. Come on inside, drummer boy. It’s silly to be dressing in the middle of the night. As knocking is heard: Aren’t you going to answer the door?
WILLY: They’re knocking on the wrong door.
THE WOMAN: But I felt the knocking. And he heard us talking in here. Maybe the hotel’s on fire!
WILLY, his terror rising: It’s a mistake.
THE WOMAN: Then tell him to go away!
WILLY: There’s nobody there.
THE WOMAN: It’s getting on my nerves, Willy. There’s somebody standing out there and it’s getting on my nerves!
WILLY, pushing her away from him: All right, stay in the bathroom here, and don’t come out. I think there’s a law in Massachusetts about it, so don’t come out. It may be that new room clerk. He looked very mean. So don’t come out. It’s a mistake, there’s no fire.
The knocking is heard again. He takes a few steps away from her, and she vanishes into the wing. The light follows him, and now he is facing young Biff, who carries a suitcase. Biff steps toward him. The music is gone.
BIFF: Why didn’t you answer?
WILLY: Biff! What are you doing in Boston?
BIFF: Why didn’t you answer? I’ve been knocking for five minutes, I called you on the phone—
WILLY: I just heard you. I was in the bathroom and had the door shut. Did anything happen home?
BIFF: Dad—I let you down.
WILLY: What do you mean?
BIFF: Dad . . .
WILLY: Biffo, what’s this about? Putting his arm around Biff: Come on, let’s go downstairs and get you a malted.
BIFF: Dad, I flunked math.
WILLY: Not for the term?
BIFF: The term. I haven’t got enough credits to graduate.
WILLY: You mean to say Bernard wouldn’t give you the answers?
BIFF: He did, he tried, but I only got a sixty-one.
WILLY: And they wouldn’t give you four points?
BIFF: Birnbaum refused absolutely. I begged him, Pop, but he won’t give me those points. You gotta talk to him before they close the school. Because if he saw the kind of man you are, and you just talked to him in your way, I’m sure he’d come through for me. The class came right before practice, see, and I didn’t go enough. Would you talk to him? He’d like you, Pop. You know the way you could talk.
WILLY: You’re on. We’ll drive right back.
BIFF: Oh, Dad, good work! I’m sure he’ll change it for you!
WILLY: Go downstairs and tell the clerk I’m checkin’ out. Go right down.
BIFF: Yes, sir! See, the reason he hates me, Pop—one day he was late for class so I got up at the blackboard and imitated him. I crossed my eyes and talked with a lithp.
WILLY, laughing: You did? The kids like it?
BIFF: They nearly died laughing!
WILLY: Yeah? What’d you do?
BIFF: The thquare root of thixthy twee is . . . Willy bursts out laughing; Biff joins him. And in the middle of it he walked in!
Willy laughs and The Woman joins in offstage.
WILLY, without hesitation: Hurry downstairs and—
BIFF: Somebody in there?
WILLY: No, that was next door.
The Woman laughs offstage.
BIFF: Somebody got in your bathroom!
WILLY: No, it’s the next room, there’s a party—
THE WOMAN, enters, laughing. She lisps this: Can I come in? There’s something in the bathtub, Willy, and it’s moving!
Willy looks at Biff, who is staring open-mouthed and horrified at The Woman.
WILLY: Ah—you better go back to your room. They must be finished
painting by now. They’re painting her room so I let her take a shower here. Go back, go back . . . He pushes her.
THE WOMAN, resisting: But I’ve got to get dressed, Willy, I can’t—
WILLY: Get out of here! Go back, go back . . . Suddenly striving for the ordinary: This is Miss Francis, Biff, she’s a buyer. They’re painting her room. Go back, Miss Francis, go back . . .
THE WOMAN: But my clothes, I can’t go out naked in the hall!
WILLY, pushing her offstage: Get outa here! Go back, go back!
Biff slowly sits down on his suitcase as the argument continues offstage.
THE WOMAN: Where’s my stockings? You promised me stockings, Willy!
WILLY: I have no stockings here!
THE WOMAN: You had two boxes of size nine sheers for me, and I want them!
WILLY: Here, for God’s sake, will you get outa here!
THE WOMAN, enters holding a box of stockings: I just hope there’s nobody in the hall. That’s all I hope. To Biff: Are you football or baseball?
BIFF: Football.
THE WOMAN, angry, humiliated: That’s me too. G’night. She snatches her clothes from Willy, and walks out.
WILLY, after a pause: Well, better get going. I want to get to the school first thing in the morning. Get my suits out of the closet. I’ll get my valise. Biff doesn’t move. What’s the matter? Biff remains motionless, tears falling. She’s a buyer. Buys for J. H. Simmons. She lives down the hall—they’re painting. You don’t imagine— He breaks off. After a pause: Now listen, pal, she’s just a buyer. She sees merchandise in her room and they have to keep it looking just so . . . Pause. Assuming command: All right, get my suits. Biff doesn’t move. Now stop crying and do as I say. I gave you an order. Biff, I gave you an order! Is that what you do when I give you an order? How dare you cry? Putting his arm around Biff: Now look, Biff, when you grow up you’ll understand about these things. You mustn’t—you mustn’t overemphasize a thing like this. I’ll see Birnbaum first thing in the morning.
BIFF: Never mind.
WILLY, getting down beside Biff: Never mind! He’s going to give you those points. I’ll see to it.
BIFF: He wouldn’t listen to you.
WILLY: He certainly will listen to me. You need those points for the U. of Virginia.
BIFF: I’m not going there.
WILLY: Heh? If I can’t get him to change that mark you’ll make it up in summer school. You’ve got all summer to—
BIFF, his weeping breaking from him: Dad . . .
WILLY, infected by it: Oh, my boy . . .
BIFF: Dad . . .
WILLY: She’s nothing to me, Biff. I was lonely, I was terribly lonely.
BIFF: You—you gave her Mama’s stockings! His tears break through and he rises to go.
WILLY, grabbing for Biff: I gave you an order!
BIFF: Don’t touch me, you—liar!
WILLY: Apologize for that!
BIFF: You fake! You phony little fake! You fake! Overcome, he turns quickly and weeping fully goes out with his suitcase. Willy is left on the floor on his knees.
WILLY: I gave you an order! Biff, come back here or I’ll beat you! Come back here! I’ll whip you!
Stanley comes quickly in from the right and stands in front of Willy.
WILLY, shouts at Stanley: I gave you an order . . .
STANLEY: Hey, let’s pick it up, pick it up, Mr. Loman. He helps Willy to his feet. Your boys left with the chippies. They said they’ll see you home.
A second waiter watches some distance away.
WILLY: But we were supposed to have dinner together.
Music is heard, Willy’s theme.
STANLEY: Can you make it?
WILLY: I’ll—sure, I can make it. Suddenly concerned about his clothes. Do I—I look all right?
STANLEY: Sure, you look all right. He flicks a speck off Willy’s lapel.
WILLY: Here—here’s a dollar.
STANLEY: Oh, your son paid me. It’s all right.
WILLY, putting it in Stanley’s hand: No, take it. You’re a good boy.
STANLEY: Oh, no, you don’t have to . . .
WILLY: Here—here’s some more. I don’t need it any more. After a slight pause: Tell me—is there a seed store in the neighborhood?
STANLEY: Seeds? You mean like to plant?
As Willy turns, Stanley slips the money back into his jacket pocket.
WILLY: Yes. Carrots, peas . . .
STANLEY: Well, there’s hardware stores on Sixth Avenue, but it may be too late now.
WILLY, anxiously: Oh, I’d better hurry. I’ve got to get some seeds. He starts off to the right. I’ve got to get some seeds, right away. Nothing’s planted. I don’t have a thing in the ground.
Willy hurries out as the light goes down. Stanley moves over to the right after him, watches him off. The other waiter has been staring at Willy.
STANLEY, to the waiter: Well, whatta you looking at?
The waiter picks up the chairs and moves off right. Stanley takes the table and follows him. The light fades on this area. There is a long pause, the sound of the flute coming over. The light gradually rises on the kitchen, which is empty. Happy appears at the door of the house, followed by Biff. Happy is carrying a large bunch of long-stemmed roses. He enters the kitchen, looks around for Linda. Not seeing her, he turns to Biff, who is just outside the house door, and makes a gesture with his hands, indicating “Not here, I guess.” He looks into the living-room and freezes. Inside, Linda, unseen, is seated, Willy’s coat on her lap. She rises ominously and quietly and moves toward Happy, who backs up into the kitchen, afraid.
HAPPY: Hey, what’re you doing up? Linda says nothing but moves toward him implacably. Where’s Pop? He keeps backing to the right, and now Linda is in full view in the doorway to the living-room. Is he sleeping?
LINDA: Where were you?
HAPPY, trying to laugh it off: We met two girls, Mom, very fine types. Here, we brought you some flowers. Offering them to her: Put them in your room, Ma.
She knocks them to the floor at Biff’s feet. He has now come inside and closed the door behind him. She stares at Biff, silent.
HAPPY: Now what’d you do that for? Mom, I want you to have some flowers—
LINDA, cutting Happy off, violently to Biff: Don’t you care whether he lives or dies?
HAPPY, going to the stairs: Come upstairs, Biff.
BIFF, with a flare of disgust, to Happy: Go away from me! To Linda: What do you mean, lives or dies? Nobody’s dying around here, pal.
LINDA: Get out of my sight! Get out of here!
BIFF: I wanna see the boss.
LINDA: You’re not going near him!
BIFF: Where is he? He moves into the living-room and Linda follows.
LINDA, shouting after Biff: You invite him to dinner. He looks forward to it all day—Biff appears in his parents’ bedroom, looks around, and exits—and then you desert him there. There’s no stranger you’d do that to!
HAPPY: Why? He had a swell time with us. Listen, when I—Linda comes back into the kitchen—desert him I hope I don’t outlive the day!
LINDA: Get out of here!
HAPPY: Now look, Mom . . .
LINDA: Did you have to go to women tonight? You and your lousy rotten whores!
Biff reenters the kitchen.
HAPPY: Mom, all we did was follow Biff around trying to cheer him up! To Biff: Boy, what a night you gave me!
LINDA: Get out of here, both of you, and don’t come back! I don’t want you tormenting him any more. Go on now, get your things together! To Biff: You can sleep in his apartment. She starts to pick up the flowers and stops herself. Pick up this stuff, I’m not your maid any more. Pick it up, you bum, you!
Happy turns his back to her in refusal. Biff slowly moves over and gets d
own on his knees, picking up the flowers.
LINDA: You’re a pair of animals! Not one, not another living soul would have had the cruelty to walk out on that man in a restaurant!
BIFF, not looking at her: Is that what he said?
LINDA: He didn’t have to say anything. He was so humiliated he nearly limped when he came in.
HAPPY: But, Mom, he had a great time with us—
BIFF, cutting him off violently: Shut up!
Without another word, Happy goes upstairs.
LINDA: You! You didn’t even go in to see if he was all right!
BIFF, still on the floor in front of Linda, the flowers in his hand; with self-loathing: No. Didn’t. Didn’t do a damned thing. How do you like that, heh? Left him babbling in a toilet.
LINDA: You louse. You . . .
BIFF: Now you hit it on the nose! He gets up, throws the flowers in the wastebasket. The scum of the earth, and you’re looking at him!
LINDA: Get out of here!
BIFF: I gotta talk to the boss, Mom. Where is he?
LINDA: You’re not going near him. Get out of this house!
BIFF, with absolute assurance, determination: No. We’re gonna have an abrupt conversation, him and me.
LINDA: You’re not talking to him!
Hammering is heard from outside the house, off right. Biff turns toward the noise.
LINDA, suddenly pleading: Will you please leave him alone?
BIFF: What’s he doing out there?
LINDA: He’s planting the garden!
BIFF, quietly: Now? Oh, my God!
Biff moves outside, Linda following. The light dies down on them and comes up on the center of the apron as Willy walks into it. He is carrying a flashlight, a hoe, and a handful of seed packets. He raps the top of the hoe sharply to fix it firmly, and then moves to the left, measuring off the distance with his foot. He holds the flashlight to look at the seed packets, reading off the instructions. He is in the blue of night.
WILLY: Carrots . . . quarter-inch apart. Rows . . . one-foot rows. He measures it off. One foot. He puts down a package and measures off. Beets. He puts down another package and measures again. Lettuce. He reads the package, puts it down. One foot— He breaks off as Ben appears at the right and moves slowly down to him. What a proposition, ts, ts. Terrific, terrific. ’Cause she’s suffered, Ben, the woman has suffered. You understand me? A man can’t go out the way he came in, Ben, a man has got to add up to something. You can’t, you can’t— Ben moves toward him as though to interrupt. You gotta consider, now. Don’t answer so quick. Remember, it’s a guaranteed twenty-thousand-dollar proposition. Now look, Ben, I want you to go through the ins and outs of this thing with me. I’ve got nobody to talk to, Ben, and the woman has suffered, you hear me?
The Penguin Arthur Miller Page 27