here? VLADIMIR: What? ESTRAGON: That we were to wait. VLADIMIR: He said by the tree. ( They look at the tree. ) Do you see any others? ESTRAGON: What is it? VLADIMIR: I don't know. A willow. ESTRAGON: Where are the leaves? VLADIMIR:
It must be dead. • ESTRAGON: No more weeping. VLADIMIR: Or perhaps it's not the season. ESTRAGON: Looks to me more like a bush. VLADIMIR: A shrub. ESTRAGON: A bush. VLADIMIR: A—. What are you insinuating? That we've come to the wrong place? ESTRAGON: He should be here. VLADIMIR: He didn't say for sure he'd come. ESTRAGON: And if he doesn't come? VLADIMIR: We'll come back tomorrow. ESTRAGON: And then the day after tomorrow. VLADIMIR: Possibly. ESTRAGON: And so on. VLADIMIR: The point is— ESTRAGON: Until he comes. VLADIMIR: You're merciless. ESTRAGON: We came here yesterday. VLADIMIR: Ah no, there you're mistaken. ESTRAGON: What did we do yesterday? VLADIMIR: What did we do yesterday? ESTRAGON: Yes. VLADIMIR: Why . . . ( Angrily. ) Nothing is certain when you're about. ESTRAGON: In my opinion we were here. VLADIMIR: ( looking round ) . You recognize the place? ESTRAGON: I didn't say that. VLADIMIR: Well? ESTRAGON: That makes no difference. VLADIMIR: All the same . . . that tree . . . ( turning towards auditorium ) that bog . . . ESTRAGON: You're sure it was this evening? VLADIMIR: What? ESTRAGON: That we were to wait. VLADIMIR: He said Saturday. ( Pause. ) I think. ESTRAGON: You think. VLADIMIR: I must have made a note of it. ( He fumbles in his pockets, bursting with miscellaneous rubbish. ) ESTRAGON: ( very insidious ) . But what Saturday? And is it Saturday? Is it not rather Sunday? ( Pause. ) Or Monday? ( Pause. ) Or Friday? VLADIMIR: ( looking wildly about him, as though the date was inscribed in the landscape ) . It's not possible! ESTRAGON:
Or Thursday? VLADIMIR: What'll we do? ESTRAGON: If he came yesterday and we weren't here you may be sure he won't come again today. VLADIMIR: But you say we were here yesterday. ESTRAGON: I may be mistaken. ( Pause. ) Let's stop talking for a minute, do you mind? VLADIMIR: ( feebly ) . All right. ( Estragon sits down on the mound. Vladimir paces agitatedly to and fro, halting from time to time to gaze into distance off. Estragon falls asleep. Vladimir halts finally before Estragon. ) Gogo! . . . Gogo! . . . GOGO! Estragon wakes with a start. ESTRAGON: ( restored to the horror of his situation ) . I was asleep! ( Despairingly. ) Why will you never let me sleep? VLADIMIR: I felt lonely. ESTRAGON: I had a dream. VLADIMIR: Don't tell me! ESTRAGON: I dreamt that— VLADIMIR: DON'T TELL ME! ESTRAGON: ( gesture toward the universe ) . This one is enough for you? ( Silence. ) It's not nice of you, Didi. Who am I to tell my private nightmares to if I can't tell them to you? VLADIMIR: Let them remain private. You know I can't bear that. ESTRAGON: ( coldly. ) There are times when I wonder if it wouldn't be better for us to part. VLADIMIR: You wouldn't go far. ESTRAGON: That would be too bad, really too bad. ( Pause. ) Wouldn't it, Didi, be really too bad? ( Pause. ) When you think of the beauty of the way. ( Pause. ) And the goodness of the wayfarers. ( Pause. Wheedling. ) Wouldn't it, Didi? VLADIMIR: Calm yourself. ESTRAGON: ( voluptuously. ) Calm . . . calm . . . The English say cawm. ( Pause. ) You know the story of the Englishman in the brothel? VLADIMIR: Yes. ESTRAGON: Tell it to me. VLADIMIR: Ah stop it! ESTRAGON: An Englishman having drunk a little more than usual proceeds to a brothel. The bawd asks him if he wants a fair one, a dark one or a red-haired one. Go on. VLADIMIR: STOP IT! Exit Vladimir hurriedly. Estragon gets up and follows him as far as the limit of the stage. Gestures of Estragon like those of a spectator encouraging a pugilist. Enter Vladimir. He brushes past Estragon, crosses the stage with bowed head.