• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

BIFF: There are people all around here. Don’t you realize that?

WILLY: I’m busy. Don’t bother me.

BIFF [taking the hoe from WILLY]: I’m saying good-bye to you, Pop. [WILLY looks at him, silent, unable to move.] I’m not coming back any more.

WILLY: You’re not going to see Oliver tomorrow?

BIFF: I’ve got no appointment, Dad.

WILLY: He put his arm around you, and you’ve got no appointment?

BIFF: Pop, get this now, will you? Everytime I’ve left it’s been a fight that sent me out of here. Today I realized something about myself and I tried to explain it to you and I—I think I’m just not smart enough to make any sense out of it for you. To hell with whose fault it is or anything like that. [He takes WILLY’S arm.] Let’s just wrap it up, heh? Come on in, we’ll tell Mom. [He gently tries to pull WILLY to left.]

WILLY [ frozen, immobile, with guilt in his voice]: No, I don’t want to see her.

BIFF: Come on! [He pulls again, and WILLY tries to pull away.]

WILLY [highly nervous]: No, no, I don’t want to see her.

BIFF [tries to look into WILLY’S face, as if to find the answer there]: Why don’t you want to see her?

WILLY [more harshly now]: Don’t bother me, will you?

BIFF: What do you mean, you don’t want to see her? You don’t want them calling you yellow, do you? This isn’t your fault; it’s me, I’m a bum. Now come inside! [WILLY strains to get away.] Did you hear what I said to you?

[WILLY pulls away and quickly goes by himself into the house. BIFF follows.]

LINDA [to WILLY]: Did you plant, dear?

BIFF [at the door, to LINDA]: All right, we had it out. I’m going and I’m not writing any more.

LINDA [ going to WILLY in the kitchen]: I think that’s the best way, dear. ’Cause there’s no use drawing it out, you’ll just never get along.

[WILLY doesn’t respond.]

BIFF: People ask where I am and what I’m doing, you don’t know, and you don’t care. That way it’ll be off your mind and you can start brightening up again. All right? That clears it, doesn’t it? [WILLY is silent, and BIFF goes to him.] You gonna wish me luck, scout? [He extends his hand] What do you say?

LINDA: Shake his hand, Willy.

WILLY [turning to her, seething with hurt]: There’s no necessity to mention the pen at all, y’know.

BIFF [gently]: I’ve got no appointment, Dad.

WILLY [erupting fiercely]: He put his arm around . . . ?

BIFF: Dad, you’re never going to see what I am, so what’s the use of arguing? If I strike oil I’ll send you a check. Meantime forget I’m alive.

WILLY [to LINDA]: Spite, see?

BIFF: Shake hands, Dad.

WILLY: Not my hand.

BIFF: I was hoping not to go this way.

WILLY: Well, this is the way you’re going. Good-bye.

[BIFF looks at him a moment, then turns sharply and goes to the stairs.]

WILLY [stops him with]: May you rot in hell if you leave this house!

BIFF [turning]: Exactly what is it that you want from me?

WILLY: I want you to know, on the train, in the mountains, in the valleys, wherever you go, that you cut down your life for spite!

BIFF: No, no.

WILLY: Spite, spite, is the word of your undoing! And when you’re down and out, remember what did it. When you’re rotting somewhere beside the railroad tracks, remember, and don’t you dare blame it on me!

BIFF: I’m not blaming it on you!

WILLY: I won’t take the rap for this, you hear?

[HAPPY comes down the stairs and stands on the bottom step, watching.]

BIFF: That’s just what I’m telling you!

WILLY [sinking into a chair at the table, with full accusation]: You’re trying to put a knife in me—don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing!

BIFF: All right, phony! Then let’s lay it on the line. [He whips the rubber tube out of his pocket and puts it on the table.]

HAPPY: You crazy—

LINDA: Biff! [She moves to grab the hose, but BIFF holds it down with his hand.]

BIFF: Leave it there! Don’t move it!

WILLY [not looking at it]: What is that?

BIFF: You know goddam well what that is.

WILLY [caged, wanting to escape]: I never saw that.

BIFF: You saw it. The mice didn’t bring it into the cellar! What is this supposed