Death of a Salesman_ Certain Private Conversations in Two Acts and a Requiem - Miller, Arthur [44]
[Off left, THE WOMAN laughs.]
WILLY: Biff, you’re going to go to that lunch tomorrow, or—
BIFF: I can’t go. I’ve got no appointment!
HAPPY: Biff, for . . . !
WILLY: Are you spiting me?
BIFF: Don’t take it that way! Goddammit!
WILLY [strikes BIFF and falters away from the table]: You rotten little louse! Are you spiting me?
THE WOMAN: Someone’s at the door, Willy!
BIFF: I’m no good, can’t you see what I am?
HAPPY [separating them]: Hey, you’re in a restaurant! Now cut it out, both of you! [The girls enter.] Hello, girls, sit down.
[THE WOMAN laughs, off left.]
MISS FORSYTHE: I guess we might as well. This is Letta.
THE WOMAN: Willy, are you going to wake up?
BIFF [ignoring WILLY]: How’re ya, miss, sit down. What do you drink?
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 hard-working, 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?