Death of a Salesman (17 page)

BIFF [
with absolute assurance, determination
]: No. We’re gonna have an abrupt conversation, him and me.

LINDA: You’re not talking to him!

LINDA [
suddenly pleading
]: Will you please leave him alone? BIFF: What’s he doing out there?

LINDA: He’s planting the garden!

BIFF [
quietly
]: Now? Oh, my God!

WILLY: Carrots . . . quarter-inch apart. Rows . . . one-foot rows. [
He measures it off.
] One foot. [
He puts down a package and measures off.
] Beets. [
He puts down another package and measures again.
] Lettuce. [
He reads the package, puts it down.
] One foot—[
He breaks off as
BEN
appears at the right and moves slowly down to him.
] What a proposition, ts, ts. Terrific, terrific. ’Cause she’s suffered, Ben, the woman has suffered. You understand me? A man can’t go out the way he came in, Ben, a man has got to add up to something. You can’t, you can’t—[BEN
moves toward him as though to interrupt.
] You gotta consider, now. Don’t answer so quick. Remember, it’s a guaranteed twenty-thousand-dollar proposition. Now look, Ben, I want you to go through the ins and outs of this thing with me. I’ve got nobody to talk to, Ben, and the woman has suffered, you hear me?

BEN [
standing still, considering
]: What’s the proposition?

WILLY: It’s twenty thousand dollars on the barrelhead. Guaranteed, gilt-edged, you understand?

BEN: You don’t want to make a fool of yourself. They might not honor the policy.

WILLY: How can they dare refuse? Didn’t I work like a coolie to meet every premium on the nose? And now they don’t pay off ? Impossible!

BEN: It’s called a cowardly thing, William.

WILLY: Why? Does it take more guts to stand here the rest of my life ringing up a zero?

BEN [
yielding
]: That’s a point, William. [
He moves, thinking, turns.
] And twenty thousand—that
is
something one can feel with the hand, it is there.

WILLY [
now assured, with rising power
]: Oh, Ben, that’s the whole beauty of it! I see it like a diamond, shining in the dark, hard and rough, that I can pick up and touch in my hand. Not like—like an appointment! This would not be another damned-fool appointment, Ben, and it changes all the aspects. Because he thinks I’m nothing, see, and so he spites me. But the funeral—[
Straightening up
] Ben, that funeral will be massive! They’ll come from Maine, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire! All the old-timers with the strange license plates—that boy will be thunderstruck, Ben, because he never realized—I am known! Rhode Island, New York, New Jersey—I am known, Ben, and he’ll see it with his eyes once and for all. He’ll see what I am, Ben! He’s in for a shock, that boy!

BEN [
coming down to the edge of the garden
]: He’ll call you a coward.

WILLY [
suddenly fearful
]: No, that would be terrible.

BEN: Yes. And a damned fool.

WILLY: No, no, he mustn’t, I won’t have that! [
He is broken and desperate.
]

BEN: He’ll hate you, William.

[
The gay music of the boys is heard.
]

WILLY: Oh, Ben, how do we get back to all the great times? Used to be so full of light, and comradeship, the sleigh-riding in winter, and the ruddiness on his cheeks. And always some kind of good news coming up, always something nice coming up ahead. And never even let me carry the valises in the house, and simonizing, simonizing that little red car! Why, why can’t I give him something and not have him hate me?

BEN: Let me think about it. [
He glances at his watch.
] I still have a little time. Remarkable proposition, but you’ve got to be sure you’re not making a fool of yourself.

WILLY [
suddenly conscious of
BIFF,
turns and looks up at him, then begins picking up the packages of seeds in confusion
]: Where the hell is that seed? [
Indignantly
] You can’t see nothing out here! They boxed in the whole goddam neighborhood!

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?

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.

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?

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 to do, make a hero out of you? This supposed to make me sorry for you?

WILLY: Never heard of it.

BIFF: There’ll be no pity for you, you hear it? No pity!

WILLY [
to
LINDA]: You hear the spite!

BIFF: No, you’re going to hear the truth—what you are and what I am!

LINDA: Stop it!

WILLY: Spite!

HAPPY [
coming down toward
BIFF]: You cut it now!

BIFF [
to
HAPPY]: The man don’t know who we are! The man is gonna know! [
To
WILLY] We never told the truth for ten minutes in this house!

HAPPY: We always told the truth!

BIFF [
turning on him
]: You big blow, are you the assistant buyer? You’re one of the two assistants to the assistant, aren’t you?

HAPPY: Well, I’m practically—

BIFF: You’re practically full of it! We all are! And I’m through with it. [
To
WILLY] Now hear this, Willy, this is me.

WILLY: I know you!

BIFF: You know why I had no address for three months? I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was in jail. [
To
LINDA,
who is sobbing
] Stop crying. I’m through with it.

[LINDA
turns away from them, her hands covering her face.
]

WILLY: I suppose that’s my fault!

BIFF: I stole myself out of every good job since high school!

WILLY: And whose fault is that?

BIFF: And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That’s whose fault it is!

WILLY: I hear that!

LINDA: Don’t, Biff!

BIFF: It’s goddam time you heard that! I had to be boss big shot in two weeks, and I’m through with it!

WILLY: Then hang yourself! For spite, hang yourself!

BIFF: No! Nobody’s hanging himself, Willy! I ran down eleven flights with a pen in my hand today. And suddenly I stopped, you hear me? And in the middle of that office building, do you hear this? I stopped in the middle of that building and I saw—the sky. I saw the things that I love in this world. The work and the food and time to sit and smoke. And I looked at the pen and said to myself, what the hell am I grabbing this for? Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous, begging fool of myself, when all I want is out there, waiting for me the minute I say I know who I am! Why can’t I say that, Willy? [
He tries to make
WILLY
face him, but
WILLY
pulls away and moves to the left.
]

WILLY [
with hatred, threateningly
]: The door of your life is wide open!

BIFF: Pop! I’m a dime a dozen, and so are you!

WILLY [
turning on him now in an uncontrolled outburst
]: I am not a dime a dozen! I am Willy Loman, and you are Biff Loman!

BIFF: I am not a leader of men, Willy, and neither are you. You were never anything but a hard-working drummer who landed in the ash can like all the rest of them! I’m one dollar an hour, Willy! I tried seven states and couldn’t raise it. A buck an hour! Do you gather my meaning? I’m not bringing home any prizes any more, and you’re going to stop waiting for me to bring them home!

WILLY [
directly to
BIFF]: You vengeful, spiteful mut!

BIFF [
at the peak of his fury
]: Pop, I’m nothing! I’m nothing, Pop. Can’t you understand that? There’s no spite in it any more. I’m just what I am, that’s all.

WILLY [
astonished
]: What’re you doing? What’re you doing? [
To
LINDA] Why is he crying?