Death of a Salesman Page #3

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from the city.

They should have arrested the builder

for cutting those down.

They massacred the neighbourhood.

More and more I think of those days,

Linda, this time of year.

It was lilacs and wisteria

and then the peonies

would come out... daffodils.

What fragrance in this room.

- People had to move somewhere.

- There's more people now.

- I don't think...

- There's more people!

That's what's ruining this country!

Population is getting out of control!

The competition is maddening!

Smell the stink from that apartment

house and another on the other side!

How can they whip cheese?

Go down, try it and be quiet.

You're not worried about me,

are you, sweetheart, huh?

No, you've got too much on the ball

to be worried about, my darling.

You're my foundation

and my support, Linda.

Oh, just try to relax.

You make mountains out of molehills.

I won't fight with him anymore.

If he wants to go to Texas, let him go.

- He'll find his way.

- Sure.

Certain men just don't get started

till later in life.

Like Thomas Edison, I think,

or B.F. Goodrich.

One of them was deaf.

I'll put my money on Biff.

And Willy, if it's warm Sunday

we'll drive in the country.

We'll open the windshield,

we'll take lunch.

The windshields don't open

on the new cars.

- But you opened it today.

- Me?

I didn't.

Now, isn't that peculiar?

- Isn't that remarkable?

- What, dear?

That is the most remarkable thing.

What, darling?

I was thinking of the Chevy.

1928, when I had that red Chevy.

Isn't that funny?

I could have sworn

I was back in that Chevy today.

That's nothing.

Something must have reminded you.

Remarkable.

Remember those days, huh?

The way Biff used to simonise that car?

Dealer refused to believe

there was 80,000 miles on it.

Close your eyes.

I'll be right up.

Now, you be careful on the stairs.

- The cheese is on the middle shelf.

- Eighty thousand mi...

Eighty-two thousand.

No, I've always made a point

of not wasting my life.

Whenever I come back here I know that

all I've done is to waste my life.

You're a poet, Biff.

You know that?

- You're an idealist.

- No, I'm mixed up very bad.

Maybe I ought to get married, right?

Maybe I ought

to get stuck into something.

Maybe that's my trouble.

I'm like a boy.

I'm not married, I'm not in business.

I'm just like a boy.

Are you content, Hap?

You're a success, aren't you?

Are you content?

- Hell, no.

- Why not? You're making money.

All I can do now is wait for

the merchandise manager to die.

Listen, kid, why don't you

come out West with me?

And you and I?

Maybe we can buy a ranch,

raise cattle, use some muscles.

Men built like we are

should be working in the open.

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