Samuel Beckett's. Endgame (). Bare interior. Grey Light. Left and right back, high up, two small windows, curtains drawn. Front right, a door. Hanging near. maroc-evasion.info - Download as PDF File .pdf), Text File .txt) or read online. Samuel Beckett's. CLOV (fixed gaze, tonelessly): Endgame () Finished, it's. into English. Endgame was, like much of Beckett's work, maroc-evasion.infofstudies. maroc-evasion.info au/syllabus_sc/pdf_doc/maroc-evasion.info
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Endgame is a long one-act play set during a single day in a bare room with two Commenting on Endgame himself, Beckett identified the speech, “Nothing is. By Samuel Beckett. Directed by Carey Perloff. American Conservatory Theater. May 9–June 3, Endgame and Play. AMERICAN CONSERVATORY. PDF | The aesthetic and epistemological implications of time consciousness have been profoundly treated by Samuel eckett throughout his.
The Critical Heritage. Grover, David S.. The Piano: Its Story, from Zither to Grand. Robert Hale, Harmon, Maurice, ed.. No Author Better Served: Cambridge, MA, and London: Harvard University Press, Penguin, Liverpool University Press, Jacquart, Emmanuel. Amsterdam and Atlanta, GA: Rodopi, Journal of Beckett Studies, 4.
Kenner, Hugh. Hard-to-hear Music in Endgame 21 Knowlson, James. Damned to Fame: The Life of Samuel Beckett. Bloomsbury, Laws, Catherine. Beckett and Religion. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man . Sphere Books, , repr. McMillan, Dougald and Martha Fehsenfeld. Beckett in the Theatre: The Author as Practical Playwright and Director. Volume 1: John Calder, Mehta, Xerxes.
Nietzsche, Friedrich. Penguin Books, Oppenheim, Lois, ed.. Samuel Beckett and the Arts: Garland, Pilling, John, ed.. Beckett International Foundation, Pountney, Rosemary. Theatre of Shadows: Gerrards Cross: Colin Smythe, Sacks, Oliver. Seeing Voices: A Journey into the World of the Deaf . Pan Books [Picador], Serres, Michel. Les cinq sens. Woodworth, Robert S. Experimental Psychology . Methuen, , rev. Why is this? In any case, what does like mean? Is it the same as admire?
Or as consider important, or original, or entertaining, or thought- provoking? Why is the confession revealing? Not Endgame. Why is this even remotely significant? Most of the people who have told me they find Beckett boring or unacceptably harsh have, when pressed, admitted they have only read him.
Vital though seeing the plays is, it has for many years been clear to me that in order to understand any play thoroughly I would not dare to say completely one is in a privileged position if one has either played a major role in it or preferably has directed it. This will be a truism unworthy of stating for anyone involved in theater arts, but it has been vigorously contested by many purist literary colleagues who regard the vagaries of performance as impediments to a deep understanding of text.
Beckett himself would not disagree with the truism, however, given the many changes he introduced as a result of his hands-on involvement in theater productions of his texts. At the time of writing that I had seen performances of both plays, but since then I have enjoyed the experience of directing Le Roi se Meurt.
As a result, my deeper understanding of the play and consequent respect for it were so increased that I have translated and adapted it as an opera libretto. One cannot say he was a frustrated musician, because he was a very competent pianist.
Roger Blin attests to this with specific reference to Endgame: His approach to directing his plays was very much that of the conductor—or rather, the leader of a chamber ensemble—and reveals that his creative faculties were as much musical as intellectual. This was at once a joy and a curse.
Blin records his difference of opinion with Beckett in regarding the tragic quality of the ending of Endgame. Musical values had absolute priority over dramatic ones. Of course, as he became more experienced, Beckett had to compromise. The status of a Beckett play text, therefore, is closely akin to that of a musical score, both only fully realized when performed.
But—before anyone objects that that is true for any script—particular qualities and sensitivities are required of director and actors of a Beckett play which are ideal but not so vital with, say, Shaw, Ibsen or Brecht, for whom plot, action, character, or ideology are of fundamental importance.
Those playwrights can be read, or seen in a mediocre performance, and still, to a large extent, understood and appreciated. A Beckett play, just like a Beethoven or Debussy chamber work, can only be fully seized in a very good performance done by practitioners with those intuitive qualities and sensitivities. Ionesco created a not dissimilar protagonist in Le Roi se Meurt, who disintegrates as the extinction of his realm and his own death approach. However, it is in performance that such important visual elements can really be appreciated.
If we compare this with, say, the second act of the posthumously published Eleutheria, which is at times not only like Endgame but also a parody of knockabout farce, we can see that it would need only a slight transformation to turn parts of Endgame into a parody of Fawlty Towers: The lobby of Fawlty Towers. Basil begins to pick up the objects lying on the ground. What are you doing, Basil? Putting things in order, dear.
I love order. He looks meaningfully at Sybil. A world where all would be silent and under the last dust. Drop it! After all with mock resignation , there or elsewhere.
He stomps off doing a German goose- step. I must have put on my boots. Would the same be true of Endgame? The man became almost endearingly bewildered, beleaguered, and out of his depth, rather than a pleasure-seeking deceitful adulterer, or the suave smoothie of Alan Rickman in the Gate film version. Above all, the vocal or musical qualities, which are impossible to realize on the page—intonations, accents, pacing, rhythms, contrasts of voices—were all of paramount importance to Beckett.
Is my experience of having directed Godot twice likely to be more relevant to my attempted appraisal of Endgame? For instance: Would I be better equipped to see that Lucky and Clov, despite their both being in the slave position, are utterly different in conception? Only the opportunity to engage in a production of Endgame would prove anything. All we have is a brief reference to the small boy sitting outside in the corpsed world. Otherwise, Nothing. Not only in space, but in time as well: Harry White comments that: As with Godot before it, Endgame concedes the past, [particularly the] slow disintegration whose final phase is enacted in the present tense.
It is this apparent insouciance about the event s leading up to their life in the ultimate refuge that makes Hamm and Clov the offspring of Pozzo and Lucky. Certainly, we know more about these two intruders into the dimension of the tramp- clowns than we do about the immediate past of Hamm and Clov: The boy gives us more of an inkling about Mr.
Krapp anchors his being by referring not just to past events but to people and places in his present world beyond the den: He presumably has a continuing source of booze too, since there is no suggestion that provisions are near depletion as in Godot and even more so in Endgame. Rockaby invokes and evokes a social and human context: The Reader in Ohio Impromptu conjures up a vivid picture of the world by the river and the Isle of Swans to which he must return.
The triangle in Play babble eternally in limbo about their bitter relationship as if it all happened yesterday. The situation in Endgame is, for the time being, uncommon, rarely seen except in science fiction.
We are presented with the last humans left on earth. However, it is astounding that the only references to their past concern things that happened long ago: What do they say? They talk about their lives. To have lived is not enough for them. Do you know what it is? It all happened without me. There are two possible triggers of persistent change: Neither is activated. There was a constant yearning in Beckett to be a painter of abstractions governed by shades of light and dark, and at the same time a composer of sounds that happen to be words.
Not only that, the exigencies of narrative are implacable. The strain of compromise is evident, above all, in Endgame, with which Beckett had much trouble. As a musical structure, Endgame is a prototype of the diminuendo al niente form, which he slowly perfected from Come and Go to What Where.
But surely this is precisely the theme of Endgame? So far as I am concerned, Beckett-directing is not so much conducting as providing a score for the words. Important though these musical qualities are, they are not very much help when it comes to the day to day concerns of transforming the text into sounds and actions that are not just musically and pictorially satisfying, but are convincing as the words and gestures and movements of human beings en situation, for that is how the public and most critics judge a good performance.
A purely musical performance would sound like a cross between T. Eliot reading his own poetry and some ghastly Sprechgesang. John Spurling persuasively analyzes the play by analogy with music, in terms of pitch, timber, tones, colors, instruments, solos, duos, trios, recitative, and cadenza However, the musical analogy will manifest itself only in performance.
I stubbornly and romantically persist even though I know the theories and practice of imaginative creativity in considering the characters as real people, knowing all the while that they have been dumped there, in media res whatever the res may be , just as we have been dumped here by God or chance, without explanation. Their ignorance about how they came to this dire situation places Endgame in the same category as Happy Days, in which vital questions are never posed or answered: Who did it?
Why does she never question the injustice of or the reason for her predicament? Winnie talks a lot about her past—but only the distant past. In both cases, an abyss or ignorance or oblivion separates past and present, but there is a difference. With Happy Days, one can concur with Clov: With the situation presented in Endgame, one is justified in asking, as Hamm does, what happened? Julie Campbell has no doubts about this: Re-Evaluating Endgame 33 Her argument is sound as part of her defense of socio-political non- specificity in production and interpretation, but my argument is about the absence of individual context, which is quite another matter.
If so, to universalize what? The private? Or the public? Unlike Waiting for Godot and Happy Days, Endgame reveals nothing like the same capacity for warmth, affection, good-natured amusement, companionship, love even. I am not alone among Beckett aficionados in having these reservations. There will be no agreement about how successful the universalizing process was in Endgame.
Universalizing a personal tragedy and universalizing a personal world-view are quite different matters. The second could be and was deduced and traduced from the start: How does Endgame score? That alone would be remarkable, but it seems to me that the effectiveness and originality are compounded by the way Beckett brought together intense private emotion and societal anxiety.
The end of what? Is the context merely merely! Clearly, however, Beckett was not going to be content with a re-statement of Romantic Weltschmertz.
Nor, surely, would he settle for a lament for the end of the world, this muck-heap? In the mids, the Soviet invasion of Hungary and Anglo-American H-bomb tests in the Pacific did not encourage optimism, but—despite his alert interest in world affairs—Beckett was not given until Catastrophe to using theater for overt political comment. Endgame must be something more than a warning tract. Je vis un ange plein de force, descendant du ciel [ I saw an angel full of might, descending from the sky […] he raised his hand heavenwards and swore by the One who lives for ever and ever, saying: There shall be no more Time… The idea of the abolition of Time is obviously in the Beckettian mode, and yet it is barely hinted at in Endgame, when Hamm, resuming his story, interjects a non sequitur: How is it that Beckett does not develop this much more profoundly philosophical and poetic image—not just the end of the Hamm and Clov association, or the end of the world, but the end of Time itself—especially since it is apparently to be found in this same source, the Revelation or Apocalypse of John?
The answer, I think, is simply that he either possessed or was recollecting a more modern and more scholarly version of the Bible than Messiaen.
Musically, however, they would surely have understood one another, and there are similarities that would have ensured mutual respect and sympathy: They both had poor eyesight. They were both fascinated by mathematics and used them in their art forms. In any case, Beckett formed close friendships with religious believers such as Tom MacGreevy and Dr Arthur Darley , thanks largely to the tolerance inculcated during his schooldays at Earlsfort House Knowlson 36, If, then, it is true that music-lover Beckett never heard or knew of the quartet, it remains puzzling.
If only Beckett had paid more attention to the French! It is winter. Without journey. Time passes. That is all. Make sense who may. I switch off. These are the last words Beckett wrote for theater. Back to Endgame: The boy is the only mystical element in Fin de Partie, and yet his relegation to near banality in Endgame has been sufficient for him to be treated by critics as a mere successor to the departing Clov.
Beckett mirrors the macrocosmic self- destructiveness of the human race in the microcosm of the dysfunctional family, tearing each other apart with selfishness, cruelty, and greed, precisely those human qualities that threaten to reduce Gaia to the state of a treeless and waterless desert. But not as director.
I was to be there as dramaturg: I hate committees. One of them designed the camel, I seem to recall. I can record rehearsals but not let any outsider hear them or read transcripts without approval of all cast. The cast had already chosen itself: Great experience but first time in a Beckett play. Connor Moyne Clov: I shall have to be careful with him.
Has already played Lucky in Dublin, and has seen many Gate productions of Beckett there. Nathan Worth Nagg: Norma Ritchie Nell: DAY 1 I shall refer in this journal only to moments of major difficulty or enlightenment. Met in our rehearsal venue for the next week. Odd arrangement and, as it turns out, equally odd venue, but suitably dismal and cold—basement of an old warehouse by the river some way out of the city, with two high windows that are just above ground level.
Immediately realize where the play is set, below ground. We first established some ground rules: Re-Evaluating Endgame 39 Nathan is very wary of being stuck in a dustbin. In Godot the supernumerary couple are always on the move, so he made the next ones static. Hamm repeats Pozzo—both landowners, Pozzo has a manor, Hamm had paupers Clov had to inspect on horseback or bike.
I remember Alan Stanford at The Gate telling me how hard it was playing Pozzo and Hamm in repertory, stopping the one flowing into the other, keeping their music and mannerisms distinct. Blindness is a major repetition. Beckett was very worried about his eyesight and the double emphasis expresses that fear. Soon after writing Endgame he wrote an unfinished play for just two characters: Vulnerability of the bully.
Brilliant theater, comic and pathetic. What a career! Harry keeps appealing to me for comments and reassurance. Connor climbs the ladder for the first time to look out of window, and sees nothing but deserted concrete yard surrounded by a high wall. We shout. It must be a joke. They blame me: Harry suggests, obvious really, summoning help by our mobile telephones.
One after the other we try to contact people, but the signal is too weak down there. My wife is overseas, Norma and her husband are separated, and the others are unattached at the moment. We learn from each other that we were discreetly questioned about close contacts before being cast.
This makes us doubly uncomfortable. No one would miss any of us for some time. In the fridge? I look in the file I was given. Open sealed orders when out at sea! In it, a number, with instructions: I have to memorize the number of the fridge combination lock, then throw it the number down loo. I have to distribute rations. Not popular. All are dependent on me. Profound mistrust. They turn on Connor. Already we are getting as tetchy as Hamm and Clov. This is the only hold Hamm has over Clov, and he would lose it.
Connor glowers: Loud protests from all but Nathan: Toilet, running water: How does Hamm cope? Does Clov have to lift him? No shower or bath. Air getting staler and hotter. So are we. The last refuge of the 4 playing the endgame of earthly existence must be like this. Search for cameras. To make us LIVE the experience of being shut up and likely to die of hunger and thirst.
We start rehearsing with this in mind, certain that once we have begun to respond positively, the test will end. I remind them: Harry raises the question of the acting style needed. But we others are pretty natural, especially if Clov has an Irish accent.
I sense an uneasiness in this play about whether the characters are real or all conscious of being actors in a play, in a Pirandello sort of way. Not just Hamm. All those knowing theatrical hints: Is he calling for his father, his pappy? When I first read it I thought Nagg is calling for his dad, his pappy. That word, I mean. He could have said gruel, or porridge. I wonder what the original French was?
Milky cereal stuff specifically for babies without teeth. Beckett could have used gruau, gruel, but obviously wanted to introduce the idea of reversion to toothless infancy by the aged. And the leglessness! I remember seeing old Moore Marriott in a film playing himself, about 60 looking 80, and his toothless father, about 80 looking In a nightshirt and nightcap, with a cracked high-pitched voice.
Like the inhabitants of the cylinder in The Lost Ones. He does seem to be taking the vulnerability too much to heart, and has lost some of the domineering quality. Harry wants to know if we all have to agree about what has happened to the world. So is it post-nuclear or global warming or what? No more nature, no more tide, no more navigators.
Yet Clov goes out for sand, and togs up at the end in Panama hat and raincoat and umbrella, ready to walk out.
You must be here confined in this bare island. Then he thought again: After three days, we rise again. The outcome is that we have all agreed to consider hiring a lawyer and suing the company. It was for real. Quentin penitentiary. They immediately understood Waiting for Godot because it expressed their own situation, waiting without end.
We vote tomorrow. The music has only just June been composed by Michael Bertram. The Story of the Messiaen Quartet. Canada in , to coincide with the disappearance of the Arctic Ice Cap. Bibliography Abbott, H. Beckett, Samuel. Waiting for Godot. Faber, Re-Evaluating Endgame 47 ——. Letter to Alan Schneider, 11 January Doubleday, Fin de partie. Editions de Minuit, Grove, Proust and Three Dialogues with Georges Duthuit.
En attendant Godot ed. Colin Duckworth. Harrap, Disjecta ed. Ruby Cohn. Calder, Rough for theater I in Collected Shorter Plays. Ben Zvi, Linda ed. Drawing on Beckett: Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University Press, Hermann, Billington, Michael. Review of Endgame. The Guardian 11 March Blin, Roger. Bray, Barbara. Bryden, Mary ed. Oxford University Press, Campbell, Julie. The Comic Gamut. New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, Just Play. Duckworth, Colin. Angels of Darkness: Dramatic Effect in Beckett and Ionesco.
Allen and Unwin; NY: Barnes and Noble, Indicium 3 Glass, Philip. In Bryden Glasson, T. The Revelation of John. The Cambridge Bible Commentary. Cambridge University Press, Le Roi se Meurt. Gallimard, Journal en miettes. Mercure de France, Knowlson, James. Martin, Adrian. McMillan, Dougald and Fehsenfeld, Martha. Beckett in the Theater, vol. Mercier, Vivian. Oppenheim, Lois ed. Directing Beckett. Ann Arbor: Michigan University Press, Restivo, Giuseppina. I'll go and get the tape.
Clov goes behind the chair and pushes it forward. Hamm lays his Clov goes towards door. I'll go get the catheter.. Not too fast! More or less! CLOV pushing: Bang in the center! Give me my pain killer.
We haven't done the round. You'd say so! Put me right in the center! We'd need a proper wheel-chair. That's enough. Hamm leans towards wall.
He wasn't old. Hamm withdraws his hand. Clov moves chair slightly. Now I feel a little too far to the right. I'll measure it. CLOV with alacrity: Bicycle wheels! Time enough. I was right in the center. Unless it's the other way All that's hollow! I'm more or less in the center? Are you hugging? You ask me that? Clov rams chair Clov halts. He straightens up. It's too soon. I'd like to pee.
Hug the walls. That old doctor. Beyond is the. Screw down the lids.. Old wall! Do you hear? Hollow bricks! In the morning they brace you up and in the He strikes again. Back to my place! But he's dead? Clov pushes chair back to center. Am I right in the center?
Take me for a little turn. It's too soon on top of your tonic. I'd say so. My anger subsides. He goes towards door.. I haven't the glass! Exit Clov with telescope. He lowers telescope.. Don't stay there. It's the same. He starts. He turns toward Hamm Let's see. He goes to window right. I've looked. I feel a little too far forward. He looks. Look at the sea. I don't like that.
I did it on purpose. All is. All is what? I need the steps. Enter Clov with ladder. But you have the glass! Look at the ocean! CLOV halting. No need of the glass. He turns the telescope on the without.. I need the glass. He goes towards CLOV: Never seen anything like that! As usual. With the glass? I see. Nothing stirs. Zer— HAMM: No need of the glass! Wait till you're spoken to! Enter Clov with telescope. He sets down ladder under window right.. Things are livening up. Clov moves chair slightly He gets down.
What all is? In a word? Is that what you want to Why? Have you shrunk? Just a moment.. All is— I'll go and get the glass. Look at it with the glass. What's the weather like? I don't. If I could kill him I'd die happy. He gets up on ladder.. That's what I call a magnifier. Clov gets down. Enter Clov with the telescope. He gets up on ladder. Is is night already then? Imagine if a rational being came back to earth. The light is sunk.. The waves? He turns the telescope on the waves.
No gulls? CLOV looking: And without going so far as that. The waves. Still louder. What in God's name could there be on the horizon? What's happening? Look again. Then what is it? From pole to pole. Voice of rational being. There was a bit left. And the horizon? Nothing on the horizon? CLOV lowering the telescope. And the sun? We're not beginning to.. There was a big CLOV looking: Ah that's a good one! Damn the sun. I wonder.. But it should be sinking.. One never knows.
All gone. Clov starts. The base. CLOV impatiently: You saw your heart. CLOV anguished. We all knew that. Mean something! You and I. HAMM starting: I have a flea! And now? Last night I saw inside my breast. HAMM anxious: Did I hear you say gray? A sail? A fin? Light black. If there are there will be.. Unless he's laying doggo. But you won't get up and you won't Pause. I shouldn't have sat down. I'm HAMM: You'll say. I'm tired. CLOV hastening towards door: A flea!
Are there still fleas? I'll start straight away. Catch him. Let's go from here. Unless it's a crab louse. With prophetic relish. On me there's one. I'll sit What about that pee? But you can walk. I'll embark alone! Get working on that raft resurrected dead of all the ages wouldn't fill it. I'll get up and get something to eat. Let him have it! One says lying? One doesn't say laying? In my house.
But you can see. You can You'll look at the wall a while. God forbid! Use your head. Tomorrow I'll be gone forever. But you I'm having it. Infinite emptiness will be all around you. If he was laying we'd be Pause. He drops the tin and adjusts his trousers. I'll go and get the powder.
HAMM with ardour: You'll be sitting CLOV: And when you open CLOV: I'll make a raft and the currents will carry us away. HAMM very perturbed: But humanity might start from there all over again! One day you'll say to yourself. One day you'll be blind like me.
The bastard! All I want. Is it not yet time for my pain-killer? This is awful! What a day! CLOV violently: Enter Clov with a sprinkling-tin. Unless he's lying doggo. Will there be sharks. Clov loosens the top of his trousers.
He stoops. Then you'll say. I come. Did you get him? So you all want me to leave you. Then you won't finish me. Is my dog ready? Do you remember when you came here? He lacks a leg. I can't go very far. Why don't you finish us? It's not certain. But beyond the hills?
Perhaps it's still green. My house a home for you. You've asked me these questions millions of times. Go and get him. I can't sit down. I couldn't finish you. You were that to me. I'll stop. He looks at Hamm fixedly. And there's one thing you forgot. Is he silky? Do you remember your father? CLOV wearily: He's kind of a Pomeranian. That here we're down in a hole.
Same answer. This was that for me. With fervour. Ah the old questions. Perhaps you won't need to go very far. You can't leave us. Or you'll But for me. He looks about him. But for Hamm. I'll tell you the combination of the cupboard if you Ecstatically. What no father. One day you'll say. HAMM impatiently: HAMM proudly: Well you'll lie down then. Did you ever think of one thing? Too small.
Then I won't leave you. He hands the dog to Hamm who feels it. Have you had your visions? What do you mean. Is she buried? No I won't bury you. If you like. HAMM as before: Your dogs are here. He's white. If it's not on it's You haven't put on his ribbon. Is he white or isn't he?
Or as if he were begging me for a bone. It's a rare thing not to HAMM his hand on the dog's head: But you'll bury me. He squats down and tries to get the dog to stand on Me! Haven't I enough to do without burying its three legs.
Clov straightens up. He's standing. As if he were asking me to take him for a walk? But naturally she's extinguished! How could anyone's light be on? CLOV vexed: But he isn't finished. Is he gazing at me? Who would have buried her? I tell you! First you finish your No. CLOV angrily: I mean Mother Pegg. HAMM groping for the dog: The dog falls on its side. Naturally it's extinguished.
Leave him like that. Can he stand? What's the matter with you today? He isn't. Go and get him! The sex goes on at the end. With reminiscent leer.
Where is he? Clov holds up the dog in a standing position. Is Mother Pegg's light on? You've forgotten the sex. We too were bonny—once. She was bonny once. I'm taking my course. And a great one for the men!
To oil the castors. I once knew a madman who thought the end of the I know. You won't be able to any more. I can't leave you. I had a great fondness for him. But you might be merely dead in your kitchen. Stick it up. He gives the gaff to Hamm who. All that rising corn! And there! CLOV briskly: The sails of the herring fleet! All that loveliness! Well you simply whistle me and if I don't come Pause. Enter Clov with gaff. You not? Then it's a day like any other day. There are so many terrible things.
That means that bloody awful day. He was a painter—and engraver. Hamm raises his toque. And you can't follow me. God be with those days. I'd take him by the hand and drag him to the If you leave me how shall I know?
You're not able to. If Pause. He'd snatch away his hand and go back into his Pause. You won't come and kiss me goodbye? He alone had been spared. Oh I shouldn't think so. Hamm throws down the gaff. Ah the creatures.
He puts on his toque again. I never refuse. Here's your gaff. Soon I won't do it any more. Or All life long the same inanities. Go and get the gaff. Give me my pain killer. CLOV: Hamm leans towards wall, applies his ear to it.
It's too soon. Do you hear? It's too soon on top of your tonic, it wouldn't act. He strikes the wall with his knuckles. HAMM: Do you hear?
Hollow bricks! In the morning they brace you up and in the He strikes again. Unless it's the other way All that's hollow! He straightens up. That's enough.
That old doctor, he's dead naturally? He wasn't old. But he's dead? Clov pushes chair back to center. CLOV: Is that my place?
Yes, that's your place. You ask me that? Am I right in the center? I'll measure it. Clov goes behind the chair and pushes it forward. HAMM: Not too fast! More or less! Clov pushes chair.
CLOV moving chair slightly : Right round the world! HAMM: Hug the walls, then back to the center again. I'm more or less in the center? I'd say so. You'd say so! Put me right in the center! With big wheels. I'll go and get the tape. Bicycle wheels! HAMM: Are you hugging? Clov moves chair slightly.
CLOV pushing : Bang in the center! It's a lie! Why do you lie to me? I feel a little too far to the left. HAMM: Clov moves chair slightly. Now I feel a little too far to the right.
CLOV: I feel a little too far forward. Things are livening up. He gets up on ladder, raises the telescope, lets it Now I feel a little too far back. I did it on purpose. Don't stay there. He gets down, picks up the telescope, turns it on i. I see Clov returns to his place beside the chair. He lowers telescope, looks at it. If I could kill him I'd die happy.
He turns toward Hamm. Don't we laugh? I don't. CLOV: Let's see. I've looked. He looks, moving the telescope. HAMM: Zero With the glass? No need of the glass. Look at it with the glass.
All is I'll go and get the glass. Zer No need of the glass! Wait till you're spoken to!
Enter Clov with telescope. CLOV: All is I'm back again, with the glass. He goes to window right, looks up at it. All is what? I need the steps. In a word? Is that what you want to Why? Have you shrunk? Just a moment. Exit Clov with telescope. He turns the telescope on the without, looks, I don't like that, I don't like that. Enter Clov with ladder, but without telescope. I'm back again, with the steps. He sets down ladder under window right, gets up HAMM: on it, realizes he has not the telescope, gets down.
Look at the sea. I need the glass. CLOV: He goes towards door. It's the same. Look at the ocean! He starts, lowers the This is deadly. Enter Clov with the telescope. He goes towards CLOV: ladder. Never seen anything like that! HAMM anxious : Gray! Did I hear you say gray? A sail? A fin? From pole to pole. The light is sunk. We all knew that. CLOV looking : Don't stay there, you give me the shivers.
There was a bit left.