comedy of menace
GOLDBERG: Where is your lechery leading you?
MCCANN: You'll pay for this.
GOLDBERG: You stuff yourself with dry toast.
MCCANN: You contaminate womankind.
GOLDBERG: Why don't you pay the rent?
MCCANN: Mother defiler!
GOLDBERG: Why do you pick your nose?
MCCANN: I demand justice!
GOLDBERG: What's your trade?
MCCANN: What about Ireland?
GOLDBERG: What's your trade?
STANLEY: I play the piano.
GOLDBERG: How many fingers do you use?
STANLEY: No hands!
GOLDBERG: No society would touch you. Not even a building society.
MCCANN: You're a traitor to the cloth.
GOLDBERG: What do you use for pyjamas?
STANLEY: Nothing.
GOLDBERG: You verminate the sheet of your birth.
MCCANN: What about the Albigensenist heresy?
GOLDBERG: Who watered the wicket in Melbourne?
MCCANN: What about the blessed Oliver Plunkett?
GOLDBERG: Speak up, Webber. Why did the chicken cross the road?
STANLEY: He wanted to--he wanted to--he wanted to...
MCCANN: He doesn't know!
GOLDBERG: Why did the chicken cross the road?
STANLEY: He wanted...
MCCANN: He doesn't know. He doesn't know which came first!
GOLDBERG: Which came first?
MCCANN: Chicken? Egg? Which came first?
GOLDBERG AND MCCANN: Which came first? Which came first? Which came first?
Stanley screams.
GOLDBERG: He doesn't know. Do you know your own face?
MCCANN: Wake him up. Stick a needle in his eye.
GOLDBERG: You're a plague, Webber. You're an overthrow.
MCCANN: You're what's left!
GOLDBERG: But we've got the answer to you. We can sterilise you.
MCCANN: What about Drogheda?
GOLDBERG: Your bite is dead. Only your pong is left.
MCCANN: You betrayed our land.
GOLDBERG: You betray our breed.
MCCANN: Who are you, Webber?
GOLDBERG: What makes you think you exist?
MCCANN: You're dead.
GOLDBERG: You're dead. You can't live, you can't think, you can't love. You're dead. You're a plague gone bad. There's no juice in you. You're nothing but an odour.
Silence. They stand over him. He is crouched in the chair. He looks up slowly and kicks Goldberg in the stomach. Goldberg falls. Stanley stands. McCann seizes a chair and lifts it above his head. Stanley seizes a chair and covers his head with it. McCann and Stanley circle.
Harold Pinter, The Birthday Party
MCCANN: You'll pay for this.
GOLDBERG: You stuff yourself with dry toast.
MCCANN: You contaminate womankind.
GOLDBERG: Why don't you pay the rent?
MCCANN: Mother defiler!
GOLDBERG: Why do you pick your nose?
MCCANN: I demand justice!
GOLDBERG: What's your trade?
MCCANN: What about Ireland?
GOLDBERG: What's your trade?
STANLEY: I play the piano.
GOLDBERG: How many fingers do you use?
STANLEY: No hands!
GOLDBERG: No society would touch you. Not even a building society.
MCCANN: You're a traitor to the cloth.
GOLDBERG: What do you use for pyjamas?
STANLEY: Nothing.
GOLDBERG: You verminate the sheet of your birth.
MCCANN: What about the Albigensenist heresy?
GOLDBERG: Who watered the wicket in Melbourne?
MCCANN: What about the blessed Oliver Plunkett?
GOLDBERG: Speak up, Webber. Why did the chicken cross the road?
STANLEY: He wanted to--he wanted to--he wanted to...
MCCANN: He doesn't know!
GOLDBERG: Why did the chicken cross the road?
STANLEY: He wanted...
MCCANN: He doesn't know. He doesn't know which came first!
GOLDBERG: Which came first?
MCCANN: Chicken? Egg? Which came first?
GOLDBERG AND MCCANN: Which came first? Which came first? Which came first?
Stanley screams.
GOLDBERG: He doesn't know. Do you know your own face?
MCCANN: Wake him up. Stick a needle in his eye.
GOLDBERG: You're a plague, Webber. You're an overthrow.
MCCANN: You're what's left!
GOLDBERG: But we've got the answer to you. We can sterilise you.
MCCANN: What about Drogheda?
GOLDBERG: Your bite is dead. Only your pong is left.
MCCANN: You betrayed our land.
GOLDBERG: You betray our breed.
MCCANN: Who are you, Webber?
GOLDBERG: What makes you think you exist?
MCCANN: You're dead.
GOLDBERG: You're dead. You can't live, you can't think, you can't love. You're dead. You're a plague gone bad. There's no juice in you. You're nothing but an odour.
Silence. They stand over him. He is crouched in the chair. He looks up slowly and kicks Goldberg in the stomach. Goldberg falls. Stanley stands. McCann seizes a chair and lifts it above his head. Stanley seizes a chair and covers his head with it. McCann and Stanley circle.
Harold Pinter, The Birthday Party
posted by mh at 6:41 PM
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