The publishers acknowledge with gratitude the permission of John Calder (Publishers)
Ltd to include in this volume
The
Old
Tune
,
an adaptation by Samuel Beckett of
La
Manivelle
by Robert Pinget, first published by Editions de Minuit, Paris, and published by
John Calder (Publishers) Ltd in 1963.

Waiting for Godot

A tragi-comedy in two acts

Written in French in 1952. First performed in Paris in 1953. English version first
performed in London in 1955, and published in 1956 by Faber and Faber.

CAST

ESTRAGON

VLADIMIR

LUCKY

POZZO

A BOY

ACT ONE

A country road. A tree. Evening.

ESTRAGON,
sitting on a low mound, is trying to take off his boot. He pulls at it with both
hands, panting. He gives up, exhausted, rests, tries again. As before.

Enter
VLADIMIR.

ESTRAGON:
[
Giving
up
again.
]
Nothing to be done.

VLADIMIR:
[
Advancing
with
short,
stiff
strides,
legs
wide
apart.
]
I’m beginning to come round to that opinion. All my life I’ve tried to put it from
me, saying, Vladimir, be reasonable, you haven’t yet tried everything. And I resumed
the struggle. [
He
broods,
musing
on
the
struggle.
Turning
to
ESTRAGON
.] So there you are again.

ESTRAGON:
Am I?

VLADIMIR:
I’m glad to see you back. I thought you were gone for ever.

ESTRAGON:
Me too.

VLADIMIR:
Together again at last! We’ll have to celebrate this. But how? [
He
reflects.
]
Get up till I embrace you.

ESTRAGON:
[
Irritably.
]
Not now, not now.

VLADIMIR:
[
Hurt,
coldly.
]
May one inquire where His Highness spent the night?

ESTRAGON:
In a ditch.

VLADIMIR:
[
Admiringly.
]
A ditch! Where?

ESTRAGON:
[
Without
gesture.
]
Over there.

VLADIMIR:
And they didn’t beat you?

ESTRAGON:
Beat me? Certainly they beat me.

VLADIMIR:
The same lot as usual?

ESTRAGON:
The same? I don’t know.

VLADIMIR:
When I think of it … all these years … but for me … where would you be …? [
Decisively.
]
You’d be nothing more than a little heap of bones at the present minute, no doubt
about it.

ESTRAGON:
And what of it?

VLADIMIR:
[
Gloomily.
]
It’s too much for one man. [
Pause.
Cheerfully.
]
On the other hand what’s the good of losing heart now, that’s what I say. We should
have thought of it a million years ago, in the nineties.

ESTRAGON:
Ah stop blathering and help me off with this bloody thing.

VLADIMIR:
Hand in hand from the top of the Eiffel Tower, among the first. We were presentable
in those days. Now it’s too late. They wouldn’t even let us up. [
ESTRAGON
tears
at
his
boot.
]
What are you doing?

ESTRAGON:
Taking off my boot. Did that never happen to you?

VLADIMIR:
Boots must be taken off every day, I’m tired telling you that. Why don’t you listen
to me?

ESTRAGON:
[
Feebly.
]
Help me!

VLADIMIR:
It hurts?

ESTRAGON:
Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!

VLADIMIR:
[
Angrily.
]
No one ever suffers but you. I don’t count. I’d like to hear what you’d say if you
had what I have.

ESTRAGON:
It hurts?

VLADIMIR:
Hurts! He wants to know if it hurts!

ESTRAGON:
[
Pointing.
]
You might button it all the same.

VLADIMIR:
[
Stooping.
]
True. [
He
buttons
his
fly.
]
Never neglect the little things of life.

ESTRAGON:
What do you expect, you always wait till the last moment.

VLADIMIR:
[
Musingly.
]
The last moment … [
He
meditates.
] Hope deferred maketh the something sick, who said that?

ESTRAGON:
Why don’t you help me?

VLADIMIR:
Sometimes I feel it coming all the same. Then I go all queer. [
He
takes
off
his
hat,
peers
inside
it,
feels
about
inside
it,
shakes
it,
puts
in
on
again.
]
How shall I say? Relieved and at the same time … [
He
searches
for
the
word.
]
…
appalled. [
With
emphasis.
]
AP-PALLED
. [
He
takes
off
his
hat
again,
peers
inside
it.
]
Funny. [
He
knocks
on
the
crown
as
though
to
dislodge
a
foreign
body,
peers
into
it
again,
puts
it
on
again.
]
Nothing to be done. [
ESTRAGON
with
a
supreme
effort
succeeds
in
pulling
off
his
boot.
He
looks
inside
it,
feels
about
inside
it,
turns
it
upside
down,
shakes
it,
looks
on
the
ground
to
see
if
anything
has
fallen
out,
finds
nothing,
feels
inside
it
again,
staring
sightlessly
before
him.
]
Well?

ESTRAGON:
Nothing.

VLADIMIR:
Show.

ESTRAGON:
There’s nothing to show.

VLADIMIR:
Try and put it on again.

ESTRAGON:
[
Examining
his
foot.
]
I’ll air it for a bit.

VLADIMIR:
There’s man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet. [
He
takes
off
his
hat
again,
peers
inside
it,
feels
about
inside
it,
knocks
on
the
crown,
blows
into
it,
puts
it
on
again.
]
This is getting alarming. [
Silence.
VLADIMIR
deep
in
thought,
ESTRAGON
pulling
at
his
toes.
]
One of the thieves was saved. [
Pause.
]
It’s a reasonable percentage. [
Pause.
]
Gogo.

ESTRAGON:
What?

VLADIMIR:
Suppose we repented.

ESTRAGON:
Repented what?

VLADIMIR:
Oh … [
He
reflects.
]
We wouldn’t have to go into the details.

ESTRAGON:
Our being born?
[
VLADIMIR
breaks
into
a
hearty
laugh
which
he
immediately
stifles,
his
hand
pressed
to
his
pubis,
his
face
contorted.
]

VLADIMIR:
One daren’t even laugh any more.

ESTRAGON:
Dreadful privation.

VLADIMIR:
Merely smile. [
He
smiles
suddenly
from
ear
to
ear,
keeps
smiling,
ceases
as
suddenly.
]
It’s not the same thing. Nothing to be done. [
Pause.
]
Gogo.

ESTRAGON:
[
Irritably.
]
What is it?

VLADIMIR:
Did you ever read the Bible?

ESTRAGON:
The Bible … [
He
reflects.
]
I must have taken a look at it.

VLADIMIR:
Do you remember the Gospels?

ESTRAGON:
I remember the maps of the Holy Land. Coloured they were. Very pretty. The Dead Sea
was pale blue. The very look of it made me thirsty. That’s where we’ll go, I used
to say, that’s where we’ll go for our honeymoon. We’ll swim. We’ll be happy.

VLADIMIR:
You should have been a poet.

ESTRAGON:
I was. [
Gesture
towards
his
rags.
]
Isn’t that obvious.
[
Silence.
]

VLADIMIR:
Where was I … How’s your foot?

ESTRAGON:
Swelling visibly.

VLADIMIR:
Ah yes, the two thieves. Do you remember the story?

ESTRAGON:
No.

VLADIMIR:
Shall I tell it to you?

ESTRAGON:
No.

VLADIMIR:
It’ll pass the time. [
Pause.
]
Two thieves, crucified at the same time as our Saviour. One –

ESTRAGON:
Our what?

VLADIMIR:
Our Saviour. Two thieves. One is supposed to have been saved and the other … [
He
searches
for
the
contrary
of
saved
]
… damned.

ESTRAGON:
Saved from what?

VLADIMIR:
Hell.

ESTRAGON:
I’m going.
[
He
does
not
move.
]

VLADIMIR:
And yet … [
Pause.
]
… how is it – this is not boring you I hope – how is it that of the four Evangelists
only one speaks of a thief being saved. The four of them were there – or thereabouts
– and only one speaks of a thief being saved. [
Pause.
]
Come on, Gogo, return the ball, can’t you, once in a way?

ESTRAGON:
[
With
exaggerated
enthusiasm.
]
I find this really most extraordinarily interesting.

VLADIMIR:
One out of four. Of the other three two don’t mention any thieves at all and the
third says that both of them abused him.

ESTRAGON:
Who?

VLADIMIR:
What?

ESTRAGON:
What’s all this about? Abused who?

VLADIMIR:
The Saviour.

ESTRAGON:
Why?

VLADIMIR:
Because he wouldn’t save them.

ESTRAGON:
From hell?

VLADIMIR:
Imbecile! From death.

ESTRAGON:
I thought you said hell.

VLADIMIR:
From death, from death.

ESTRAGON:
Well what of it?

VLADIMIR:
Then the two of them must have been damned.

ESTRAGON:
And why not?

VLADIMIR:
But one of the four says that one of the two was saved.

ESTRAGON:
Well? They don’t agree, and that’s all there is to it.

VLADIMIR:
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.

ESTRAGON:
People are bloody ignorant apes.
[
He
rises
painfully,
goes
limping
to
extreme
left,
halts,
gazes
into
distance
off
with
his
hand
screening
his
eyes,
turns,
goes
to
extreme
right,
gazes
into
distance.

VLADIMIR
watches
him,
then
goes
and
picks
up
the
boot,
peers
into
it,
drops
it
hastily.
]

VLADIMIR:
Pah!
[
He
spits,
ESTRAGON
moves
to
centre,
halts
with
his
back
to
auditorium.
]

ESTRAGON:
Charming spot. [
He
turns,
advances
to
front,
halts
facing
auditorium.
]
Inspiring prospects. [
He
turns
to

VLADIMIR
.] Let’s go.