The Dresser Page #6

Now, shall we make a start?

What play is it tonight?

King Lear, Sir.

That's impossible.

Oh, thank you.

Oh, that's nice, isn't it(?!)

People paying good money to see you

and you say "impossible".

Very nice indeed(!) I don't think.

I don't want to be seen.

Well, that's difficult

when you're playing King Lear

with the lighting you use.

I don't want to see her ladyship.

Oh, well, even more difficult

when she's playing your daughter.

You saw her a moment ago.

You were alone together.

Were we?

What play is it tonight?

King Lear, Sir.

Madge was wrong.

Yes, well, she often is.

I have been ill before this.

Did you ever see me in

The Corsican Brothers?

Ah, no. Alas, sir, before my time.

I went on with

double pneumonia then.

Apt when you're playing

the Corsican brothers.

I'd rather have

double pneumonia than this.

Than what?

What prevents me from packing up

and going home?

Why am I here

when I should be asleep?

Wasn't that a strange light

in Market Square this evening?

I don't remember

being in Market Square.

You've been missing whole days.

What do you remember?

Walking, walking, walking. If only

I could find a good, catchy title.

I think My Life a little plain,

don't you?

Still stuck, are we?

No, no. I wrote a little today.

Two or three sides

of an exercise book.

But I can't find a title.

Oh, well, we'll think of something.

See if it's still in my jacket.

And my reading glasses.

I thought I had written today.

No, well, you'll not see

much through those.

Well, look for me.

Is there anything?

Evidently not.

It cannot be Lear again.

Shall we start our make-up?

I'm getting out of here.

I'm not staying in this place

a moment longer.

I am surrounded by vipers,

betrayal on every side.

I am being crushed, the lifeblood

is draining out of me.

The load is too much.

Norman, Norman, if you have any

regard for me, don't listen to him.

Who? Who? More, more, more,

I cannot give any more.

I have nothing more to give.

I want a tranquil senility.

I'm an old man.

I don't want to go on painting

my face night after night

after night, dressing up in clothes

that are not my own,

I'm not a child dressing

up for charades.

This is my work, this is

my life's work, I'm an actor.

Who cares if I go out there tonight

or any other night

and shorten my life?

Shorten my life...

I don't care if there's only

three people out front,

or if the audience laughs

when they shouldn't, or don't

when they should, one person, just

one person will know and understand.

And I act for him.

I cannot move that which

cannot be moved.

What are we on about now?

I'm filled inside with stone.

Stone upon stone.

I cannot lift myself.

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