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Death of a Salesman_ Certain Private Conversations in Two Acts and a Requiem - Miller, Arthur [42]

By Root 989 0
above the earth]: I’m going to tell you everything from first to last. It’s been a strange day. [Silence. He looks around, composes himself as best he can, but his breath keeps breaking the rhythm of his voice.] I had to wait quite a while for him, and—

WILLY: Oliver?

BIFF: Yeah, Oliver. All day, as a matter of cold fact. And a lot of—instances—facts, Pop, facts about my life came back to me. Who was it, Pop? Who ever said I was a salesman with Oliver?

WILLY: Well, you were.

BIFF: No, Dad, I was a shipping clerk.

WILLY: But you were practically—

BIFF [with determination]: Dad, I don’t know who said it first, but I was never a salesman for Bill Oliver.

WILLY: What’re you talking about?

BIFF: Let’s hold on to the facts tonight, Pop. We’re not going to get anywhere bullin’ around. I was a shipping clerk.

WILLY [angrily]: All right, now listen to me—

BIFF: Why don’t you let me finish?

WILLY: I’m not interested in stories about the past or any crap of that kind because the woods are burning, boys, you understand? There’s a big blaze going on all around. I was fired today.

BIFF [shocked]: How could you be?

WILLY: I was fired, and I’m looking for a little good news to tell your mother, because the woman has waited and the woman has suffered. The gist of it is that I haven’t got a story left in my head, Biff. So don’t give me a lecture about facts and aspects. I am not interested. Now what’ve you got to say to me?

[STANLEY enters with three drinks. They wait until he leaves.]

WILLY: Did you see Oliver?

BIFF: Jesus, Dad!

WILLY: You mean you didn’t go up there?

HAPPY: Sure he went up there.

BIFF: I did. I—saw him. How could they fire you?

WILLY [on the edge of his chair]: What kind of a welcome did he give you?

BIFF: He won’t even let you work on commission?

WILLY: I’m out! [Driving] So tell me, he gave you a warm welcome?

HAPPY: Sure, Pop, sure!

BIFF [driven]: Well, it was kind of—

WILLY: I was wondering if he’d remember you. [To HAPPY] Imagine, man doesn’t see him for ten, twelve years and gives him that kind of a welcome!

HAPPY: Damn right!

BIFF [trying to return to the offensive]: Pop, look—

WILLY: You know why he remembered you, don’t you? Because you impressed him in those days.

BIFF: Let’s talk quietly and get this down to the facts, huh?

WILLY [as though BIFF had been interrupting]: Well, what happened? It’s great news, Biff. Did he take you into his office or’d you talk in the waiting-room?

BIFF: Well, he came in, see, and—

WILLY [with a big smile]: What’d he say? Betcha he threw his arm around you.

BIFF: Well, he kinda—

WILLY: He’s a fine man. [To HAPPY] Very hard man to see, y’know.

HAPPY [agreeing]: Oh, I know.

WILLY [to BIFF]: Is that where you had the drinks?

BIFF: Yeah, he gave me a couple of—no, no!

HAPPY [cutting in]: He told him my Florida idea.

WILLY: Don’t interrupt. [To BIFF] How’d he react to the Florida idea?

BIFF: Dad, will you give me a minute to explain?

WILLY: I’ve been waiting for you to explain since I sat down here! What happened? He took you into his office and what?

BIFF: Well—I talked. And—and he listened, see.

WILLY: Famous for the way he listens, y’know. What was his answer?

BIFF: His answer was—[He breaks off, suddenly angry.] Dad, you’re not letting me tell you what I want to tell you!

WILLY [accusing, angered]: You didn’t see him, did you?

BIFF: I did see him!

WILLY: What’d you insult him or something? You insulted him, didn’t you?

BIFF: Listen, will you let me out of it, will you just let me out of it!

HAPPY: What the hell!

WILLY: Tell me what happened!

BIFF [to HAPPY]: I can’t talk to him!

[A single trumpet note jars the ear. The light of green leaves stains the house, which holds the air of night and a dream. YOUNG BERNARD enters and knocks on the door of the house.]

YOUNG BERNARD [ frantically]: Mrs. Loman, Mrs. Loman!

HAPPY: Tell him what happened!

BIFF [to HAPPY]: Shut up and leave me alone!

WILLY: No, no! You had to go and flunk math!

BIFF: What math? What’re you talking about?

YOUNG BERNARD: Mrs. Loman, Mrs. Loman!

[LINDA

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