THE CAVE DWELLERS By William Saroyan (1958) CAST The Duke The Girl The Queen The King The Young Opponent A Woman With A Dog A Young Man The Young Queen The Father Gorky The Mother The Silent Boy The Wrecking Crew Boss Jamie SCENES The play, in two acts and ten scenes, happens within the space of a few days, on the stage of an abandoned theatre on the lower East Side of New York, in the midst of a slum-clearing project. ACT ONE Scene I The play happens on the stage of an abandoned theatre on the lower East Side of New York, in the midst of a slum-clearing project. There are three makeshift bunks on the stage. On one of them lies a woman called the QUEEN, who coughs now and then in her sleep. A man called the DUKE comes in quietly, studies the face of the QUEEN, picks up a pile of manuscripts of old plays, dumps them in a corner, opens the top one and stands, looking at it. A series of EXPLOSIONS begin, one after another, to which he half-listens. A GIRL comes running down the stage alley to the stage door. She makes several unsuccessful attempts to open it, finally pushes it open, comes in, and runs to the farthest bunk, gets in, and pulls the covers over her head. The DUKE goes to the bunk in which the GIRL is hiding. After a moment, she puts her head out, looks around, notices the DUKE, looks at him out of terror-stricken eyes. GIRL For the love of God, what was that? DUKE All right, now. It’s only the wreckers. They’re knocking down the rotten old buildings around here. GIRL (Gets on her feet) Oh. I didn’t know where to run. (Looks around) Where am I? DUKE This is an old theatre. Here, I’ll show you. This is the stage. There’s the orchestra pit, out there’s the auditorium, up there’s the balcony. Can you see? GIRL Yes, now I can see all right. I’ve never seen a theatre from the stage before. It makes me feel—well, kind of proud, I guess. I don’t know why, but it does. (She stops suddenly and then speaks softly.) Well, I guess I’d better go now. Thanks very much. DUKE That’s all right. GIRL(Begins to go, stops, turns) Of course, I’d much rather stay. Can I? DUKE Here? No, this place is for us. The Queen over there, sick. The King. He’ll be back pretty soon. And me. I’m the Duke. Just names, of course. The Queen used to be on the stage. The King used to be a clown—he was in vaudeville and he did Shakespeare, too—and I used to be in the ring. We’ve been like a family almost a month now, and this is our home. GIRL Could it be my home, too? DUKE No, no, we’ve got rules and regulations. There are other places for other people. GIRL Where are the other places? DUKE All over. This is our place. We found it, and it’s a theatre. They’re going to knock it down pretty soon, but until they do we’ve got our— (Softly) rules and regulations. GIRL What are the rules and regulations? DUKE People of the theatre only. Being in the ring is being in the theatre, too, because—well, the King says so. Besides, after I lost my title, I went on tour. This isn’t the first time I’ve been on the stage. It’s just the first time that I’ve lived on one. GIRL Couldn’t I, too? DUKE Are you an actress? GIRL Oh, no. But I am tired and I’ve got to find some place to stay. DUKE (Looks over at the QUEEN, speaks softer.) Well, what have you done? GIRL Well, I was at a place where they put guns together. DUKE What did you do there? GIRL I was on hammers. I never saw the whole gun. DUKE Real guns? GIRL I don’t think so. The name of the place was U.S. Toy. DUKE Did the company ever put on entertainments? GIRL Not while I was there. DUKE At school did you do anything? GIRL(Shakes head) Oh, no, I was too shy. Too shy at U.S. Toy, too. DUKE Why? GIRL I’ve always been shy. And afraid, too. DUKE Afraid of what? GIRL I don’t know. Everything, I guess, and—everybody. DUKE Are you afraid of me? GIRL Well, no, but I am afraid I won’t find a place to stay. DUKE Why don’t you go home? GIRL I haven’t got a home. (Pause) Can I? Stay? DUKE You’re young. This is no place for you. GIRL Please don’t make me go away. I don’t know why, but I don’t feel so scared here. I kind of feel at home here. DUKE You’ve got to be in the theatre. The King says so, and we all agreed. He believes in the theatre. It’s like a religion with him. So what am I going to tell him? Here’s a scared girl? No place to go? GIRL Could you teach me to be in the theatre, maybe? DUKE No, that’s not the same thing at all. But haven’t you ever done anything in front of people to make them feel happy, or sad, or proud of themselves? GIRL I remember a sidewalk game that used to make me happy. (Pause) One potato, two potato, three potato, four! Five potato, six potato, seven potato more! DUKE Anything else? GIRL (Stands stiffly, salutes) I pledge allegiance to the Flag, and to the Republic for which it stands. One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. DUKE (Considers what he has heard) Well, you’ve been to the theatre. You’ve seen what they do. Can you do anything like that? GIRL I never went to the theatre very much—too expensive. At U.S. Toy, though, I used to dream a lot, and it was kind of like stuff I’d seen in the movies. One whole afternoon I put the hammers in upside down. Well, of course, they fired me. They almost fired another girl first, but it wasn’t her. It was me. DUKE What were you dreaming about? GIRL Oh. (Pause, shyly) I don’t know. DUKE Was it like a show on a stage? GIRL I don’t’ think so, because it was only me. But I was different. I was beautiful. DUKE (After thinking) Well, I’ll tell the King you’re in the theatre. No harm in telling him, I guess. GIRL Will you? DUKE Yes. In a way you are. At any rate, you’re here. And who knows? Maybe he’ll believe us. GIRL Thank you. (She seems anxious and afraid, as well as relieved.) DUKE When I was afraid just before a fight I used to jump up and down, like this. (He demonstrates) I always wanted to holler, too, but of course I couldn’t. They’d think I was crazy. A fighter’s got to be sure they don’t think he’s crazy. But if I’d been able to holler just before my big fight, I’d never have lost the crown. (He looks up, whispers) Help me. (He shouts) Help me? (The QUEEN sits up, shakes her head as if to see more clearly, watches.) It’s what I wanted to do. It’s what I should have done. It’s what I never did. What a fool I was. (He sits down.) (The GIRL goes to him, reaches a hand out timidly, places it on his head, as a small hand on the head of a big sad dog.) (After a moment he looks up at her, stands) About being in the theatre. Can you sing, for instance? GIRL (Half sings) How do you do, my partner. How do you do today? DUKE Not bad. GIRL Will you dance in a circle, if I show you the way? QUEEN Welcome to the theatre, Girl, whoever you are! CURTAIN ACT ONE Scene II A little later. The GIRL has tidied up the place. Both unoccupied bunks are made, the tatters and rags straightened and folded neatly. She is now sweeping the floor. The QUEEN watches, sits up, rests her head on her elbow. QUEEN Well, now, where is the King? DUKE He’ll be here pretty soon. Just rest now, Queen. Sleep. QUEEN More sleep? Sleep and sleep? (Shakes her head) Remember this, Duke. And you, Girl. If I sleep and it’s time to eat, wake me. However deep my sleep may be. Lift me up out of my bed if need be. Stand beside me, one to the right and one to the left, and if I still sleep, walk with me, until I am awake again. Understand? DUKE All right, now, don’t worry. We’ll wake you up. QUEEN You, Girl, if I sleep when it’s time, you’ll get me up? GIRL Yes, Queen. QUEEN A moment ago I spoke of something. What was it I spoke of a moment ago? DUKE No need to remember what you spoke of. QUEEN I said something. What did I say? I remembered something and then I said something. (Sleepily) But now I can’t remember anymore. (She falls back.) DUKE (Stands over her. Turns away, to the GIRL) She’s asleep again. GIRL Shouldn’t she have a doctor? DUKE She’s old, that’s all. She’s been this way the whole month I’ve been here. And then all of a sudden she’s up, and alive, and young and beautiful, too. There just isn’t enough food that’s all. She ought to have more food. Better food. GIRL I won’t eat. DUKE You’ve got to eat. GIRL I’ll go away, if you want me to. DUKE That’s up to the King, now. (The DUKE brings the manuscript out of his back pocket, begins to read it again.) (The GIRL continues to sweep. The KING comes in, an old, hard, lean man with a long lined face. He is in rags, and yet he moves in a kind of human grandeur. He carries a paper sack with a round loaf of bread in it. As he moves he seems to be deep in thought. The DUKE and the GIRL wait for him to notice them, but he isn’t looking.) KING Enough of violence. Enough, I say. Be done with it. Have done with it. DUKE (Clears his throat to attract his attention) King? KING (Turns, almost unseeing) Yes? What is it? DUKE I looked for work all day. Any kind. They seem to be afraid of me, or something, that’s all. I looked for money in the streets, too. I got home a little while ago to find the Queen delirious again. KING Enough of violence. DUKE What violence? Where? KING In—in—in each of us—crouched, waiting. In everything we do—and think, even. Enough of it. (Softly) Christ, how the people hate one another to pass the beggar as if he weren’t there. To be deaf to his shameful words. A small coin for a great need. (Soberly) I’ve begged all day, begged of my inferiors. DUKE I hope you’ve had a little luck. KING This loaf of bread, old and hard, but bread, at any rate. (Fishes into his pocket, comes up with a few coins, jingles them, opens his fist, looks at them.) These few sad coins. I’ve begged before. Bad luck in the coins, but worse in the violence—theirs and my own. I’ve already called them my inferiors. Perhaps they aren’t. But if they are, there’s no need for me to say so. Enough, I’m sick of it. (Notices the GIRL) Who’s that standing there? DUKE She’s in the theatre, too, like ourselves. She speaks well, and has a pleasant singing voice. (Gestures at the beds) She’s a helpful girl. But she’s ready to go, if we don’t want her. KING Why should the girl go? There’s a whole loaf of bread. (Goes to the GIRL) Welcome, Girl. And don’t be afraid of me. I saw no eyes all day that were not afraid, and the violence of it has hurt me again, deeper than ever. In the days gone I covered this face with white grease, and red—the clown’s mask. But this face is the mask, and the other is my true face. Welcome, and do not be afraid. (The GIRL nods) (He places the coins in her hand.) Here is the whole day’s gain. Buy something for the Queen. Milk, or medicine, or whatever. GIRL Yes, sir. KING (To the DUKE) There were other gains. I saw a dog on a leash, held by a woman in furs. I swear that dog spoke to me with its eyes as clearly as if it had spoken with its breath and tongue and teeth and palate. Hey, beggar! beggar! I’d give my soul to change places with you for only one turn of the world! The woman in furs gave me nothing, not even the dirty look I’ve come to count on, and even to cherish a little, since I am of the theatre, and live on being seen, even if hatefully. Any kind of a look is better than none at all. The words of the eyes of the small dog were a great gain, and another was a thought that came to me soon afterwards. A bitter thought, but a true one, and so I must pass it along. When I was rich—Girl, I have been rich—when I was abroad in the world, away from the stage, and came upon a beggar—old, twisted, deformed, ugly, dirty, better than half dead— (Stretches out his arms slowly) –while I was a wit in the world, a maker of wild laughter and joyous sorrow among the multitudes, did I notice the beggar? Did I see him, truly? Did I understand him? Did I love him? Did I give him money? (Softly) No, I did not. In my soul I said, Let him be dead and out of my way. That was a gain. Bitter, but a gain. Violence! My own violence, come home! QUEEN Oh, stop your shouting. (She sits on the bunk, as the GIRL watches.) KING Oh, you are awake, then? QUEEN Wide awake. KING And there’s my bed. That makes a day. Up in the morning. Out to beg. Back in the evening. The table. The food. The company. The talk. And then to bed. (Softly) I love it too much. QUEEN Well, you’re home again, at any rate, and as you see, I’m up again. There’s one good hour in me every day, still. One good queenly hour. (To the GIRL) I did them all, you know—Catherine, Mary, Ann, Bess, and all the others. A young girl from the most common of families, if in fact you could call it a family at all. A poor weary mother, a poor drunken father, a dirty houseful of dirty brothers and sisters. I sometimes marvel at the way I turned out. KING Turned out or tuned in, the table’s ready, if you are. QUEEN I have never been readier, sir. KING Your arm then, Woman. (He takes her by the arm.) (The DUKE and the GIRL watch, and then do the same.) CURTAIN ACT ONE Scene III After supper, they are all at the table. The KING and the QUEEN are chewing the last of the bread. KING Well, that’s the end of the bread. QUEEN (Brightly, almost gaily) Yes, we’ve eaten it all. KING Uptown the lights are on. The theatres are ready. The tickets are sold. The players are putting on their make-up and getting into their costumes. In a moment the curtains will go up, and one by one the plays will begin and The Great Good Friend out there—(He gestures toward the auditorium)—will look and listen. And little by little something will stir in his soul and come to life—a smile, a memory, a reminder of an old forgotten truth, tender regret, kindness. In short, the secret of the theatre. GIRL (Childlike) What is the secret of the theatre? QUEEN Love, of course. Without love, pain and failure are pain and failure, nothing else. But with love they are beauty and meaning themselves. GIRL Oh. QUEEN (Acts) Entreat me not to leave thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and where thou diest, will I die. KING Bravo, you did that very well. QUEEN Oh, King, do a clown’s bit. A kingly clown’s bit. KING I belong uptown. I still do. I was born there, and then I was put out. QUEEN Are you an actor, or a sad old man like all the other sad old men? I thought it was agreed. We are of the theatre. You are to perform, not be performed upon. KING (Puts a crumb in his mouth) I’m still eating. Would you have eating a performance, too? QUEEN Would you have it something else? Could it possibly be something else? Do a bit about eating! KING We just did that bit, didn't we? (He puts a crumb between his upper and lower teeth and crushes it with one deliberately large chomp.) QUEEN This time without bread. For its own dear sake. KING I am challenged, Woman. You know I would kill myself for art. QUEEN Or us—from the wonder of it. KING (He gets up quickly) The great man comes to the famous restaurant, hungry and hushed, and thoughtful, because he remembers when he was nobody and the world was still far-away. Now, he wears the unmistakable scowl of superiority, and so the arrogant headwaiter bows humbly, and conducts him quickly and silently to the best table in the place. However, before accepting the headwaiter’s offer to sit— (He indicates the drawing-out of a chair.) —he stands a moment to notice who else has come to the holy joint, and to be noticed by them. (The QUEEN leans forward, delighted both with his work and her success in having provoked him into it.) But who is he? (Pause, extra clearly, now loud, now soft, inventing wildly.) Is he perhaps the new Secretary of State, before his first flight to— (Searches for an inept destination) Dubrovnik? The Spanish pianist from Palma of the Canary Islands? The man who discovered the flaw in the theory of cycles? He who invented the law of loss, or was it only the lollipop? Or is he perhaps the man who learned the language of the Arab tribes, brought the warring chiefs together, engineered the business of the oil? (Slight pause) Let them try to guess, it’s good for them. In any case, it’s time to sit and eat. He eats, and eats, one rare dish after another. (Comically astonished) But what’s this with the crepe suzettes? A fly, isn’t it? A common fly? (He stops) (The QUEEN waits expectantly. He does not go on.) QUEEN (Softly) Well, why do you stop? KING (Earnestly) It’s part of the bit. A man stops, doesn’t he? Suddenly? Unaccountably? He remembers, and he thinks, doesn’t he? Is it worth it? All the trying, and all the eating? (Slowly, very clearly) Joe’s dead. Mary’s divorced. Johnny’s boy is stealing automobiles. Pat’s girl is breaking up the home of a dentist. QUEEN Bravo! KING Thank you for stopping me. I might have gone on forever, from loneliness and despair. (Pause) Girl, it’s your turn. Do a bit, please. GIRL A bit? DUKE (Whispering) The Pledge! GIRL (Salutes) I pledge allegiance to the Flag, and to the Republic for which it stands. One nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. KING What bit is that? DUKE The National Pledge, King! KING I know it’s the National Pledge. But who the devil put it in a play? DUKE One of the new playwrights. KING Yes. They’re doing that sort of thing these days, aren’t they? (Leaps to his feet, and speaks with a joyous lilt to his voice, almost singing) Ah, Lord, what a lark it is to live! Just to live—like a mouse, even. (He does a light skipping step and breaks into song.) Jimmy Jellico, down the road, Come out, my foolish, laughing, silly Jimmy. Your Ma is mad, your Pa is crazy, Come out, come out, and dance with Daisy. DUKE King, I didn’t know you could sing, too! KING (Softly) You ma is mad, your pa is crazy. (Pause) And over there’s the bed. I sometimes think I’m dead and have just remembered. It’s most strange. And then suddenly there I am—not dead. And that’s more strange than the other. Your turn then, Duke. A scene from a play, please. DUKE (Opens the manuscript) The first act of a play about some people who have come to a little hotel on a side street in a great city. KING Yes, yes, in search of—What are they in search of, Girl? DUKE (Whispers, as GIRL turns to him for help) Now, just don’t be afraid, that’s all. Tell him. GIRL Well, one’s looking for his father, another’s looking for his mother. Another’s looking for a home, another for a place to hide— QUEEN There is no hiding. None whatsoever. It can’t be done. KING Ah, let her go on, will you? One seeks a home, another a hiding place. Go on, Girl. GIRL One’s looking for a husband, another for a wife. DUKE (Turning a page of the manuscript) Ah, here we are. The lobby of the hotel. (To the GIRL) The moment I saw you I was sure I knew you. GIRL I was sure I knew you, too. KING Is that from the play? DUKE Yes, King. The moment I saw you I was sure I knew you. GIRL I was sure I knew you, too. QUEEN No, no, don’t go back. Never go back. DUKE But the line’s repeated, Queen. QUEEN Ah, well, then. DUKE (Acts) I said to myself, I know her. I’ve seen her before. GIRL I said to myself, I know him. I’ve seen him before. KING (After a pause) Go on, please. DUKE (Swiftly) That’s all there is. He tries to smile and be polite, and so does she, but it doesn’t help, so she goes up to her room, and he goes out into the street. KING Another new playwright, I presume. DUKE Yes, sir. KING Very strange, I must say. QUEEN It’s not strange at all. KING Nothing happens. QUEEN Nothing happens! It’s the story of our lives. KING Yes, it is actually, isn’t it? (Pause) Girl? GIRL Yes, King. KING Stand before me, please. GIRL (Stands there) Yes, King. KING Do not be afraid. (Pause) You have a bed? DUKE I’d like her to have my bed. QUEEN Your bed? You’d be dead by morning without your bed. DUKE My clothes are warm. QUEEN You must be very strong and handsome inside to be able to love with so much courtesy. DUKE No, Queen. I am a slob, inside and out, and all because fifteen years ago in my last fight, I was afraid I might kill my opponent with one blow. And so, down I went, killed with one blow by my opponent. (Pause) Whether I’m dead or alive by morning, the Girl will be safe in my bed. Courtesy, or whatever you want to call it, that now I can look up and holler all I like. KING Holler what? DUKE (Softly but clearly) Help me to win without killing my opponent! CURTAIN ACT ONE Scene IV Later. STORM. WIND. The sounds of human sleeping—BREATHING, MURMURING, a HUM. The GIRL is asleep in the DUKE’S bed. The QUEEN in her bed, and the KING in his. The DUKE is walking up and down, to keep warm. Every now and then he shadow-boxes in silence. Stops, bundles himself in his rags, walks again. He is remembering his big fight. He walks the boundary of the fight ring, takes his corner, and waits, looking up now and then. The GONG is heard, but differently – like a chime – almost an invitation to sleep. And out of nowhere comes the charging young OPPONENT in trunks and boxing gloves. The DUKE puts up his arms and works fearfully, trying to keep away, but suddenly the OPPONENT tags him. He wobbles, tries to clinch, but is caught again, and his knees buckle. The OPPONENT tags him quickly, and steps back to watch the DUKE collapse. A VOICE is heard far away whispering one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…The DUKE gets to his feet, but the OPPONENT is on him again. He tries to clinch, but fails. Again the OPPONENT steps back to watch the DUKE collapse. The DUKE is counted out, as he gets to one knee. The OPPONENT helps him up, embraces him quickly, pats him on the back, and goes. The DUKE stands, dazed, unbelieving, and then sinks to one knee again. The GIRL sits up suddenly, notices him. Gets out of the bunk, fully clothed. Goes to him, shyly. She takes him by the arm, as if from the ring of failure and disgrace of long ago, and helps him into the bunk. The GIRL listens to the DUKE as he breathes heavily and then slowly quiets down and falls asleep. She then wanders around in the dim light to see if there is anything she might do, but there isn’t. She is cold, she shivers, her teeth chatter. She sits on a box and begins to work in the gun factory, doing the same thing over and over. A handsome YOUNG MAN comes, dancing a tango, bows to her, they dance, and then the YOUNG MAN goes. The KING sits up, notices the GIRL, gets off his bunk, and goes to her. Takes her by the arm to his bunk, and helps her to lie down. When she is asleep, the KING begins to walk around to keep warm, too. He then lies down and curls up like an animal, in the hope of finding warmth, but there is no warmth in him or in his rags or in curling up. A WOMAN with a small dog on a leash appears. The KING gets up quickly, becomes abject, holds out his hat. The WOMAN stops, looks away. The dog looks up at the KING. The KING’S voice is heard whispering for the dog: Hey, beggar! beggar! I’d give my soul to change places with you for only one turn of the world. The WOMAN and the dog go. The QUEEN sits up, goes to him, takes him to her bed, helps him to lie upon it, and waits until he has fallen asleep. The QUEEN begins to cough, and then she sees herself as a beautiful young girl in rags, who comes and stares up at her a moment and then goes. The KING, the DUKE, and the GIRL sit up at the same time, look at the QUEEN, and then at one another. They listen to the raging STORM. The GIRL goes to the QUEEN. The KING goes to the Stage Door, bolts it, places his ear to the door, and listens. The DUKE stands beside him. DUKE We all woke up at the same time, King. KING Yes, I know we did. GIRL I dreamed a dream of love—again. QUEEN And I a dream of life—my own, almost gone now, swift and silent, and speechless. KING I saw the little dog. DUKE And I lost the fight. King, what’s going on? KING We’ve come to a time. DUKE What kind of a time? KING Cold. I’m cold. (His very voice seems frozen. He puts an arm around the QUEEN, another around the GIRL.) (The Duke does the same. They stamp their feet to keep warm, and move slowly in a small circle.) QUEEN Why do you gather us into a circle? KING Because we can get a little warmth from one another in a circle, that’s why. QUEEN (Steps out of the circle, annoyed) No, I refuse to joint that church. KING It’s no church. It’s us—sleepless and cold. QUEEN No, I refuse. KING We’re cold, Woman, in a cold night, in a cold building, in a cold city. QUEEN King, you’re scared. Of dying, I suppose. But for God’s sake, Man, please do not let a little cold and a little fear make a fool of you. I’m cold, too, and so is she, and so is he, and for all I know this is my last night, or yours, or theirs, or anybody’s, but until my mind is going entirely, I intend to stay alive as if this were the morning of the first day, and I a young girl with the world to seek. King, I say there is no death, even though I know I shall soon be no longer among the living. KING What the devil are you talking about, Woman? Or have you gone mad? GIRL Is that from a play? DUKE Oh, no. GIRL Can I say something, then? DUKE Of course you can. GIRL Queen, it was warmer when you were in the circle. QUEEN We need a fire, then, not a philosophy. (She coughs) GIRL You didn’t cough while you were in the circle. QUEEN I don’t want the circle to cure my cough. My cough is not an illness. It’s a language I haven’t learned to understand yet. GIRL (To the DUKE) I said something. Now, you say something. DUKE O.K. (To the QUEEN) It is better to stand together than to stand alone. QUEEN Duke, believe me, were you one of my own three sons, I couldn’t cherish you more, but I am afraid that what you have just said can do my pride as a mother very little good. KING Moses Himself almost said the same thing. QUEEN Go ahead, then. Hang together. Circle around like animals. Kneel and pray. Weep and moan. I’d rather freeze to death alone. KING Will there never be a woman a man can be glad he met? GIRL (To the DUKE, quickly) I’m going to say something more. Oh, Queen, stay with us. QUEEN Listen, Girl. You and I invent no philosophies and no religions. We go along with the boys—until we get fed-up to here. (She indicated her nose) And then we say, Boys, go on alone now, please. Kill yourselves in the name of God, or truth, or justice, or the moon, or water, or ice cream, or anything else you can think of. Kill yourselves, and then explain it to us. We’ll be here waiting, and once again we’ll listen to the pitiful and preposterous explanation—how you were wrong but right but wrong but right. KING I give up. If Christ Himself had had you around He would have sold oranges for a living. QUEEN I wish He had. Oranges are nice. I remember especially their lovely smell in the wintertime. KING All of the great thinkers and prophets would have forgotten their noble visions and pure dreams. QUEEN They should have. Their noble dreams and their pure visions didn’t help—didn’t help, Man. And did hinder. KING Hinder what? QUEEN The real challenge. The only challenge, as you know. The challenge that is in each of us. If we are nothing involved in nothing and wish to be something involved in something, let us discover how we may achieve this transformation without fear, without lies, without humiliation, without belittlement of ourselves and others, without violence. You came in from the streets not many hours ago and spoke against violence, didn’t you? KING Oh, I am the villain of the world, and all because I am a man. Woman, I’m cold. I believed that with our arms about one another we might be a little warmer in our poor bodies. Now, why do you make of this simple act a crime against reason and right, thought and—theology, for instance? GIRL Are they acting? DUKE Oh, no, they’re living. QUEEN That little circle is the mother—and the father—of violence. KING Gathering together is an act of love. QUEEN Not at all. It’s an act of fear. Fear of others unknown to us. But who are they, excepting ourselves again? They aren’t people from another plant. They haven’t two heads to our one, four arms to our two, or another way to start and stop life. If you can’t think, Man, at least try to remember. You’re not cold, you’re frightened. There is no danger, you’re old. KING A whole month she lies on that bed hanging onto life by the barest thread, but tonight when I must protect my family, she becomes Joan of Arc herself, grown old. QUEEN Protect? There is no protection. KING No illness, no death, no danger, no defense, no protection. Girl, speak to your mother, please. Comfort her. She’s mad, she speaks in tongues, nobody can follow her. GIRL It is cold. QUEEN We’re agreed on that. DUKE We all woke up at the same time. QUEEN We’re agreed on that, too. GIRL We all feel—strange. As if something were happening everywhere, not here alone. QUEEN The weather is happening everywhere. DUKE No, something else, Queen. I’ve dreamed of losing the fight before. I lost the fight. Why wouldn’t I dream of losing it? So it can’t be that. I’ve been in bad weather before, too, and not inside, either. Outside. So it can’t be that, either. It’s something else, and I’m scared to death. GIRL I’m not. Of anything. DUKE No? When you first came here you were afraid of everything, and now you say you’re not afraid of anything. How did that happen? GIRL (Earnestly, trying to guess) I don’t know. Nothing’s changed, except that I am here. (Softly) And thankful to each of you. (To the QUEEN) It isn’t that you’re like my mother, as my poor mother never was, you are my mother. (To the KING) And you my father. (To the DUKE) And you—well, not my brother, and not my lover, or my husband, either, but something like all of them put together. (To the QUEEN) He’s a man. A very kind man. And now that I know he’s scared, I love him more than ever. DUKE You love me? GIRL Yes. DUKE Since when? GIRL Since the minute I saw you, when I came out of hiding, expecting to see a whole world in ruins, and life itself breathing its last breath, and saw you instead, on this stage. Since then. A hundred years ago. DUKE (To the QUEEN) Don’t tell me something isn’t happening. When I was young and strong, I was not loved. Oh, there were many, one after another, but I wasn’t loved. I knew it, and they knew it. It was a game, nothing more, and fun while it lasted. I was false, and they were false, and there was money to spend—and pride, and power, and arrogance, and youth, and laughter. And lies to use up. I didn’t care. I wore the Crown, didn’t I? I’d won the title, hadn’t I? (Almost amused but also amazed) And then I lost the title, and they were all gone. And I was stupid. I’d always been stupid—just strong and swift and lucky. Don’t you love me, Girl. I’m used to it. GIRL I love you. DUKE Don’t pity me, either. Pity hurts worse than hatred, worse than ridicule. I’m not kind. When I was young and truly myself, and there was one like you among the others, I never so much as saw her. There is no kindness in me. GIRL (To the QUEEN) I love him. (To the KING) Why? Am I too good for him? Am I radiant suddenly in the middle of the night? I can’t sleep. I can’t rest. I can’t forget. I’m cold and alone, and I don’t want to be any more. (Sounds of slow FOOTSTEPS, of SHUFFLING, STUMBLING, and FALLING are heard in the alley. Everybody hears the sounds, but as the sounds are faint, they do not pay very much attention to them.) DUKE Thank you for your love, Girl. Thank you very much, but in the morning— (In the alley a woman’s MOAN is heard, long and drawn out) (A man’s VOICE is heard mumbling: Soon, soon, now, soon.) —when this strange night is over. (There is a slow RATTLING of the bolted door, and then three KNOCKS, not very loud, and slowly. The DUKE whispers.) DUKE King, there’s somebody out there. (An animal MOAN is heard) GIRL Who is it? QUEEN Open the door, King. It’s somebody in need of help. DUKE No, let me open it. I’m scared to death, but—well, I’m the strongest here. (He moves. The KING stops him.) KING How can we help? We have nothing here. Three beds for four people. Rags for clothes. No food. No fire. How can we help? QUEEN By not being afraid, of course. KING But I am afraid, and so are you. I don’t know what’s out there. I’m not even sure it’s human. Sometimes it sounds human, sometimes it doesn’t. But even if we weren’t afraid, why should we open the door? There’s a whole world out there, full of fortunate people in their own homes, not in a hulk of a haunted theatre. Let them help, whoever or whatever it is. (He listens) Perhaps they’ve gone, in any case. (A woman’s soft MOAN is heard again) Ah, I don’t know what to make of it. Why should they come here? We’re better than half-dead ourselves. How can we help? Help with what? (SOUNDS) QUEEN You made a human circle a moment ago. Bring them into that circle, as an act of love. (SOUNDS) KING I don’t know who they are. QUEEN It doesn’t matter who they are. They are in need. This is a theatre, Man, not a cave. We are people of the theatre, not animals. (SOUNDS) KING I can’t argue with a woman. Let’s ask one another, then, if this is what we must do. Girl, shall we open the door? (SOUNDS) GIRL Yes, King. KING That’s already two against two. How about you, Duke? DUKE I don’t know. I don’t seem to be able to think any more, but if the girl does love me, as she says she does, and says open the door, what can I, twice her size, ten times her strength, say? I’ll open the door, King. (SOUNDS) KING Well, now, it’s three to one, and the last is myself, six charlatans, and half a dozen lunatics. I’ll open the door. DUKE No, let me, King. KING Stand together at the edge of the stage there. It’s a large theatre, and there are other places in which to hide, if need be. (They stand together at the edge of the stage. The KING stands up straight, ready to go.) QUEEN King? KING Yes, Woman? QUEEN I love you, sir. KING You talk too much. (The KING walks swiftly to the door, opens it, and a MAN, leaning upon it, almost falls into his arms.) MAN (Whispers) Thank you, thank you, thank you. (The KING supports him, helps him in. A huge black BEAR, walking upright, follows the MAN. The QUEEN, the GIRL, and the DUKE gasp. The KING turns, sees the BEAR, tries to hide behind the MAN.) Don’t be afraid of him. But for God’s sake, somebody please help my wife. (A woman’s long MOAN is heard, then a CRY of a newborn baby. The MAN begins to walk toward the sound, falls upon the BEAR, who holds him up. The GIRL runs out, followed by the QUEEN.) CURTAIN END OF ACT ONE