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[WILLY moves to the edge of the stage. LINDA goes into the kitchen and starts to darn stockings.]

WILLY: I don’t know the reason for it, but they just pass me by. I’m not noticed.

LINDA: But you’re doing wonderful, dear. You’re making seventy to a hundred dollars a week.

WILLY: But I gotta be at it ten, twelve hours a day. Other men—I don’t know—they do it easier. I don’t know why —I can’t stop myself—I talk too much. A man oughta come in with a few words. One thing about Charley. He’s a man of few words, and they respect him.

LINDA: You don’t talk too much, you’re just lively.

WILLY [smiling]: Well, I figure, what the hell, life is short, a couple of jokes. [To himself ] I joke too much! [The smile goes.]

LINDA: Why? You’re—

WILLY: I’m fat. I’m very—foolish to look at, Linda. I didn’t tell you, but Christmas time I happened to be calling on F. H. Stewarts, and a salesman I know, as I was going in to see the buyer I heard him say something about—walrus. And I—I cracked him right across the face. I won’t take that. I simply will not take that. But they do laugh at me. I know that.

LINDA: Darling . . .

WILLY: I gotta overcome it. I know I gotta overcome it. I’m not dressing to advantage, maybe.

LINDA: Willy, darling, you’re the handsomest man in the world—

WILLY: Oh, no, Linda.

LINDA: To me you are. [Slight pause.] The handsomest.

[From the darkness is heard the laughter of a woman. WILLY doesn’t turn to it, but it continues through LINDA’S lines.]

LINDA: And the boys, Willy. Few men are idolized by their children the way you are.

[Music is heard as behind a scrim, to the left of the house,

THE WOMAN, dimly seen, is dressing.]

WILLY [with great feeling]: You’re the best there is, Linda, you’re a pal, you know that? On the road—on the road I want to grab you sometimes and just kiss the life outa you.

[The laughter is loud now, and he moves into a brightening area at the left, where THE WOMAN has come from behind the scrim and is standing, putting on her hat, looking into a “mirror,” and laughing.]

WILLY: ’Cause I get so lonely—especially when business is bad and there’s nobody to talk to. I get the feeling that I’ll never sell anything again, that I won’t make a living for you, or a business, a business for the boys. [He talks through THE WOMAN’S subsiding laughter; THE WOMAN primps at the “mirror.”] There’s so much I want to make for—

THE WOMAN: Me? You didn’t make me, Willy. I picked you.

WILLY [pleased]: You picked me?

THE WOMAN [who is quite proper-looking, Willy’s age]: I did. I’ve been sitting at that desk watching all the salesmen go by, day in, day out. But you’ve got such a sense of humor, and we do have such a good time together, don’t we?

WILLY: Sure, sure. [He takes her in his arms.] Why do you have to go now?

THE WOMAN: It’s two o’clock . . .

WILLY: No, come on in! [He pulls her.]

THE WOMAN: . . . my sisters’ll be scandalized. When’ll you be back?

WILLY: Oh, two weeks about. Will you come up again?

THE WOMAN: Sure thing. You do make me laugh. It’s good for me. [She squeezes his arm, kisses him.] And I think you’re a wonderful man.

WILLY: You picked me, heh?

THE WOMAN: Sure. Because you’re so sweet. And such a kidder.

WILLY: Well, I’ll see you next time I’m in Boston.

THE WOMAN: I’ll put you right through to the buyers.

WILLY [slapping her bottom]: Right. Well, bottoms up!

THE WOMAN [slaps him gently and laughs]: You just kill me, Willy. [He suddenly grabs her and kisses her roughly.] You kill me. And thanks for the stockings. I love a lot of stockings. Well, good night.

WILLY: Good night. And keep your pores open!

THE WOMAN: Oh, Willy!

[THE WOMAN bursts out laughing, and LINDA’S laughter blends in. THE WOMAN disappears into the dark. Now the area at the kitchen table brightens. LINDA is sitting where she was at the kitchen table, but now is mending a pair of her silk stockings.]

LINDA: You are, Willy. The handsomest man. You’ve got no reason to feel that—

WILLY [coming out of THE WOMAN’S dimming area and going over