Waiting for Godot

by Samuel Beckett

But all four were there. And only one speaks of a thief being saved. Why believe him rather than the others?

ESTRAGON: Who believes him? VLADIMIR: Everybody. It’s the only version they know.

VLADIMIR: He said Saturday. (Pause.) I think.

ESTRAGON: I had a dream. VLADIMIR: Don’t tell me! ESTRAGON: I dreamt that— VLADIMIR: DON’T TELL ME! ESTRAGON: (gesture towards 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: You’d make me laugh if it wasn’t prohibited. ESTRAGON: We’ve lost our rights? VLADIMIR: (distinctly). We got rid of them.

VLADIMIR: With me it’s just the opposite. ESTRAGON: In other words? VLADIMIR: I get used to the muck as I go along. ESTRAGON: (after prolonged reflection). Is that the opposite? VLADIMIR: Question of temperament. ESTRAGON: Of character.

both his hands being occupied, takes the whip in his mouth, then goes back to his place.

Why he doesn’t make himself comfortable? Let’s try and get this clear. Has he not the right to? Certainly he has. It follows that he doesn’t want to. There’s reasoning for you. And why doesn’t he want to? (Pause.) Gentlemen, the reason is this. VLADIMIR: (to Estragon). Make a note of this. POZZO: He wants to impress me, so that I’ll keep him.

POZZO: Remark that I might just as well have been in his shoes and he in mine. If chance had not willed otherwise. To each one his due.

POZZO: He’s stopped crying. (To Estragon.) You have replaced him as it were. (Lyrically.) The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh. (He laughs.)

POZZO: (sobbing). He used to be so kind . . . so helpful . . . and entertaining . . . my good angel . . . and now . . . he’s killing me

POZZO: Is there anything I can do, that’s what I ask myself, to cheer them up? I have given them bones, I have talked to them about this and that, I have explained the twilight, admittedly. But is it enough, that’s what tortures me, is it enough?

POZZO: I don’t seem to be able . . . (long hesitation) . . . to depart. ESTRAGON: Such is life.

What’s the matter with you? ESTRAGON: I’m unhappy. VLADIMIR: Not really! Since when? ESTRAGON: I’d forgotten. VLADIMIR: Extraordinary the tricks that memory plays!

VLADIMIR: You don’t know if you’re unhappy or not? BOY: No Sir. VLADIMIR: You’re as bad as myself. (Silence.)

VLADIMIR: But you can’t go barefoot! ESTRAGON: Christ did. VLADIMIR: Christ! What has Christ got to do with it? You’re not going to compare yourself to Christ! ESTRAGON: All my life I’ve compared myself to him. VLADIMIR: But where he lived it was warm, it was dry! ESTRAGON: Yes. And they crucified quick.

ESTRAGON: Remind me to bring a bit of rope to-morrow. VLADIMIR: Yes. Come on.

VLADIMIR: Now? . . . (Joyous.) There you are again . . . (Indifferent.) There we are again . . . (Gloomy.) There I am again.

ESTRAGON: You see, you feel worse when I’m with you. I feel better alone too. VLADIMIR: (vexed). Then why do you always come crawling back? ESTRAGON: I don’t know.

VLADIMIR: Say something! ESTRAGON: I’m trying. Long silence. VLADIMIR: (in anguish). Say anything at all! ESTRAGON: What do we do now? VLADIMIR: Wait for Godot.

VLADIMIR: What is terrible is to have thought.

VLADIMIR: Wait . . . we embraced . . . we were happy . . . happy . . . what do we do now that we’re happy . . . go on waiting . . . waiting . . . let me think . . . it’s coming . . . go on waiting . . . now that we’re happy . . . let me see . . . ah! The tree!

VLADIMIR: But yesterday evening it was all black and bare. And now it’s covered with leaves.

ESTRAGON: We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?

ESTRAGON: We should ask him for the bone first. Then if he refuses we’ll leave him there. VLADIMIR: You mean we have him at our mercy? ESTRAGON: Yes.

What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come—

ESTRAGON: (aphoristic for once). We are all born mad. Some remain so.

VLADIMIR: Let him alone. Can’t you see he’s thinking of the days when he was happy. (Pause.) Memoria praeteritorum bonorum— that must be unpleasant.

VLADIMIR: What is there in the bag? POZZO: Sand. (He jerks the rope.) On!

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more. (He jerks the rope.) On! Exeunt Pozzo and Lucky.

Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? To-morrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of to-day? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us?

Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave-digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. (He listens.) But habit is a great deadener.

At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can’t go on! (Pause.) What have I said?

VLADIMIR: Tell him . . . (he hesitates) . . . tell him you saw me and that . . . (he hesitates) . . . that you saw me. (Pause. Vladimir advances, the Boy recoils. Vladimir halts, the Boy halts. With sudden violence.) You’re sure you saw me, you won’t come and tell me to-morrow that you never saw me!

VLADIMIR: We’ll hang ourselves to-morrow. (Pause.) Unless Godot comes. ESTRAGON: And if he comes? VLADIMIR: We’ll be saved.