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‘What’s that for?’ /
(ENGINE enters, as if summoned but reluctant to attend.)
7
ENGINE makes a sign with his hand to THRASH, who departs. He is heavy, resolute.
WARDROBE: I’m worried about my friend /
(ENGINE seems to ignore this. WARDROBE senses the futility of repeating himself but proceeds to do so.)
I’m worried about /
ENGINE: I heard you / Mr Wardrobe /
(WARDROBE accepts ENGINE’s denial. He is simultaneously hopeless and persistent.)
WARDROBE: It is weeks since he wrote a single line of poetry /
ENGINE: Or recited one /
WARDROBE: Or recited one / yes /
(WARDROBE labours on.)
Or recited one / and /
ENGINE: He is who he is / Mr Bible / nothing can alter that /
WARDROBE: Alter it / no / not alter it / but relieve it / perhaps? /
ENGINE: To relieve Mr Bible of the strains and stresses of being Mr Bible / were it possible / or desirable / lies outside my competence / is Mrs Thrash not satisfactory? /
WARDROBE: Entirely satisfactory /
ENGINE: That’s that / then /
(WARDROBE squirms at his impotence. A pitiful cry comes from him, involuntary, shrill.)
WARDROBE: I’M WORRIED ABOUT MY FRIEND /
(ENGINE studies WARDROBE, sensing his deterioration, and not without pity.)
ENGINE: I must get on /
WARDROBE: Get on / get on / you’re always saying that / I must get on / on to what? / what is it you must get on to? /
(ENGINE prefers not to reply. WARDROBE bites his lip. ENGINE turns to leave.)
I like you / Captain /
(ENGINE stops. He turns to WARDROBE.)
ENGINE: I don’t dislike you / Mr Wardrobe /
(WARDROBE struggles to maintain his dignity, then dissolves.)
WARDROBE: LET ME HAVE A VIOLIN / A TENTH-RATE / SCHOOLGIRL’S VIOLIN /
(ENGINE studies WARDROBE.)
ENGINE: You have had violins / Mr Wardrobe /
WARDROBE: Yes /
ENGINE: And all of them got broken /
WARDROBE: Yes /
ENGINE: I say broken / in actual fact /
WARDROBE: I smashed them /
ENGINE: You smashed them / yes /
WARDROBE: I smashed them / and this act of smashing /I don’t conceal it from myself / was nihilistic / and / arguably / barbaric / but not more barbaric / than the /
ENGINE: (Gravely.) Contempt / Mr Wardrobe /
WARDROBE: The actions which provoked /
ENGINE: Contempt / I said /
(WARDROBE is stilled. His hands squirm in his frustration.)
WARDROBE: I promise /
(He is ashamed to be so infantilized, but proceeds.)
I promise not to break another one /
(ENGINE does not reply.)
Do you have another one? /
(ENGINE remains silent.)
Mrs Thrash / she may be wrong / of course / said there were plenty /
(WARDROBE looks at the floor.)
Could I borrow one? /
(ENGINE says nothing.)
A rotten / shapeless / for half-a-day / busted / unstrung / for half an hour even / borrow one / could I? /
(ENGINE frowns. WARDROBE shakes his head.)
Of course there is one / and of course you cannot lend it me /
(He lifts his head.)
The Emperor will be gratified to learn from your report that / entirely in conformity with his expectations / the effect of the rhapsody on my sensibility was such that I / notorious for my pride / not only submitted a request / but begged / begged for the wherewithal to play it / I did beg / didn’t I? / you are satisfied / Captain / that I begged? / if not I / oh / happily I /
ENGINE: You begged / Mr Wardrobe /
(WARDROBE places his hands together.)
WARDROBE: He requires that I / I say this without contempt / become mad /
(He lifts his eyes to ENGINE.)
I must become mad / is that correct? /
(ENGINE regards WARDROBE with a frank and undisguised pity.) What is the Emperor to you? / Captain? /
(ENGINE is perturbed.)
ENGINE: I have never met the Emperor / nor do I expect to / but if I did / and formed an opinion of him / and this opinion were unfavourable / it would not affect the rigour with which I carry out his orders /
(WARDROBE seems to sway on his feet.)
WARDROBE: But / Captain / I am a genius /
ENGINE: The wind blows / Mr Wardrobe /
(WARDROBE screws up his face.)
WARDROBE: Yes /
(He peers at ENGINE.)
The wind blows / yes /
ENGINE: On all of us /
WARDROBE: ‘The wind blows on all of us’ / what is that? / is that philosophy? /
(ENGINE goes to leave.)
EXCUSE ME / EXCUSE ME / THE WIND BLOWS / WHAT IS THAT? /
(ENGINE ignores WARDROBE and goes out. WARDROBE is half-hysterical, half-euphoric.)
THE WIND BLOWS / THE WIND BLOWS / BIBLE / DID YOU HEAR THAT? /
(To WARDROBE’s horror the CAPTAIN surges back into the room and hoisting WARDROBE off the floor, thrusts him backwards in a grotesque dance.)
I’M BEING KILLED / OH GOD / I’M BEING KILLED /
BIBLE: (Aroused from torpor.) Si - si / Si - si /
WARDROBE: (A doll in ENGINE’s great hands.) YOU HATE YOUR LIFE / YOU HATE YOUR LIFE / AND BECAUSE YOU HATE YOUR LIFE / YOU PUNISH ME /
(Engine deposits WARDROBE as if he were pushing rubbish into an overfilled bin, then releases him. He gazes on the spectacle, without pleasure or remorse. THRASH appears in the doorway.)
That’s illegal / Captain / illegal but /
(He straightens his clothes. THRASH enters and going to the CAPTAIN, takes his hand in hers and raises it to her lips. He accepts this consolation.)
If somehow / by some obscure means / a violin was got to me /
(He rises unsteadily to his feet.)
I may not find it / necessary / to register / a complaint /
(He does not lift his gaze to ENGINE. ENGINE’s demeanour is restored.)
ENGINE: A full account of what occurred will be entered in the weekly statement of conditions / Mr Wardrobe / if you discover scratches / or bruises / let the doctor know /
(He goes out. WARDROBE remains staring at the floor. BIBLE, bewildered, looks about him.)
BIBLE: