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BERNARD: Take it easy, kid.

WILLY: Let me talk to you—I got nobody to talk to. Bernard, Bernard, was it my fault? Y’see? It keeps going around in my mind, maybe I did something to him. I got nothing to give him.

BERNARD: Don’t take it so hard.

WILLY: Why did he lay down? What is the story there? You were his friend!

BERNARD: Willy, I remember, it was June, and our grades came out. And he’d flunked math.

WILLY: That son-of-a-bitch!

BERNARD: No, it wasn’t right then. Biff just got very angry, I remember, and he was ready to enroll in summer school.

WILLY [surprised]: He was?

BERNARD: He wasn’t beaten by it at all. But then, Willy, he disappeared from the block for almost a month. And I got the idea that he’d gone up to New England to see you. Did he have a talk with you then?

[WILLY stares in silence.]

BERNARD: Willy?

WILLY [with a strong edge of resentment in his voice]: Yeah, he came to Boston. What about it?

BERNARD: Well, just that when he came back—I’ll never forget this, it always mystifies me. Because I’d thought so well of Biff, even though he’d always taken advantage of me. I loved him, Willy, y’know? And he came back after that month and took his sneakers—remember those sneakers with “University of Virginia” printed on them? He was so proud of those, wore them every day. And he took them down in the cellar, and burned them up in the furnace. We had a fist fight. It lasted at least half an hour. Just the two of us, punching each other down the cellar, and crying right through it. I’ve often thought of how strange it was that I knew he’d given up his life. What happened in Boston, Willy?

[WILLY looks at him as at an intruder.]

BERNARD: I just bring it up because you asked me.

WILLY [angrily]: Nothing. What do you mean, “What happened?” What’s that got to do with anything?

BERNARD: Well, don’t get sore.

WILLY: What are you trying to do, blame it on me? If a boy lays down is that my fault?

BERNARD: Now, Willy, don’t get—

WILLY: Well, don’t—don’t talk to me that way! What does that mean, “What happened?”

[CHARLEY enters. He is in his vest, and he carries a bottle of bourbon.]

CHARLEY: Hey, you’re going to miss that train. [He waves the bottle.]

BERNARD: Yeah, I’m going. [He takes the bottle.] Thanks, Pop. [He picks up his rackets and bag.] Good-bye, Willy, and don’t worry about it. You know, “If at first you don’t succeed . . .”

WILLY: Yes, I believe in that.

BERNARD: But sometimes, Willy, it’s better for a man just to walk away.

WILLY: Walk away?

BERNARD: That’s right.

WILLY: But if you can’t walk away?

BERNARD [after a slight pause]: I guess that’s when it’s tough.

[Extending his hand] Good-bye, Willy.

WILLY [shaking BERNARD’S hand]: Good-bye, boy.

CHARLEY [an arm on BERNARD’S shoulder]: How do you like this kid? Gonna argue a case in front of the Supreme Court.

BERNARD [protesting]: Pop!

WILLY [ genuinely shocked, pained, and happy]: No! The Supreme Court!

BERNARD: I gotta run. ’Bye, Dad!

CHARLEY: Knock ’em dead, Bernard!

[BERNARD goes off.]

WILLY [as CHARLEY takes out his wallet]: The Supreme Court! And he didn’t even mention it!

CHARLEY [counting out money on the desk]: He don’t have to—he’s gonna do it.

WILLY: And you never told him what to do, did you? You never took any interest in him.

CHARLEY: My salvation is that I never took any interest in anything. There’s some money—fifty dollars. I got an accountant inside.

WILLY: Charley, look . . . [With difficulty] I got my insurance to pay. If you can manage it—I need a hundred and ten dollars.

[CHARLEY doesn’t reply for a moment; merely stops moving.]

WILLY: I’d draw it from my bank but Linda would know, and I . . .

CHARLEY: Sit down, Willy.

WILLY [moving toward the chair]: I’m keeping an account of everything, remember. I’ll pay every penny back. [He sits.]

CHARLEY: Now listen to me, Willy.

WILLY: I want you to know I appreciate . . .

CHARLEY [sitting down on the table]: Willy, what’re you doin’? What the hell is goin’ on in your head?

WILLY: