ACT TWO (18 Pages in Typescript) |
The Cast: |
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BRUTUS:----.----Roman conspirator; in toga, with dagger tucked in his belt Brutus's garden. Angled at stage left, a solid bench with a
low headrest; at stage right, bushes and a large rock. Upstage
left, the door to Brutus's house. As the play progresses, the
light goes from purple moonlight to radiant dawn. |
(excitedly) Honey, I told you the intermission was only ten minutes! |
(similarly) But there was a long line at the ladies' room! When will people who design theaters ever realize that ladies need more time than men—therefore a lot more bathroom? When they began flicking the house lights, there were still five people in front of me! |
Well, it's a fact of life. Live with it. Theaters are designed by men. |
Don't men have wives? (pause) Now, what row were we sitting in? |
It was somewhere in the middle, wasn't it? And toward the left? |
Yes, but I'm not sure we came in the right door! I think we belong on the other side! (pause; inspired) Do you have that little light you carry? Don't you usually carry a little flashlight? |
Yeah, yeah, good idea. (reaching in his pocket, bringing out the light, fumbling) Damn. Where's the switch? What the heck's the matter with this thing? I shoulda bought a more expensive one, I know it. Okay, okay, here it is. (the light comes on, flashes around the theater) |
Honey, don't point it at the audience! Point it at the floor! |
Oh. Sorry, sorry. |
(whispering to the person) Sorry, sorry. (pause) What? (pause) I know you came to see theater, not to get a massage. We're just. . . having a little trouble finding our seats. |
(hurrying over) So sorry. I'll get it. No no, let me get it. (getting down on floor) No, that's your foot. I think it's under your seat. (with great fuss, crawling under seat, finally retrieving item and handing it to audience member) Here it is. |
(shining his light down a row; to MYRNA) It was this one, wasn't it? |
(peering down the row; either:) Can't be! There aren't any empty seats! (or, if there are:) That man's way too big! We weren't sitting next to a man that big! |
Shoot. You're right. |
(bending over him; excitedly) Honey, are you all right? |
Yeah, yeah, I'm fine! There was a bump—some unevenness or something—in the floor! Shsssh! (he gets to his feet, straightens his jacket) |
These stairs. I don't remember these stairs, do you? |
Well, there were stairs at the back of the theater. But I don't think these stairs are those stairs. |
Let's go through here. Follow me. . . . (extinguishes light) |
What, Lucius, ho! |
Called you, my lord? |
Get me a taper in my study, Lucius. |
I will, my lord. |
It must be by his death; and for my part, as MYRNA inadvertently pushes RALPH forward— they tumble through the upstage door and fall headlong onto the stage. Momentarily startled, BRUTUS glances to his side and acknowledges the intrusion with raised eyebrows. |
—would as his kind grows mischievous, knowing only that they must conceal themselves, RALPH darts to the bench, left, and drops to his hands and knees behind it. MYRNA does the same behind the bushes, right. |
The taper burneth in your closet, sir. around the bench; from behind the bushes, MYRNA does likewise. RALPH raises his hands as if to say what are we going to do? MYRNA shrugs, motions with her head to the upstage door. RALPH mimes what? and this time, MYRNA points. RALPH shakes his head—no!—and with two fingers furtively points first at the actors, then at the audience, then at his eyes. |
Get you to bed again; it is not day. |
I know not, sir. |
Look in the calendar and bring me word. |
I will, sir. |
The exhalations, whizzing in the air, [(raised eyebrows)] Peeping over the bench, RALPH removes a cell phone from his jacket pocket, pulls the antenna out, and dials. From inside MYRNA'S purse, we hear a musical call signal. In a flurry of motion MYRNA extracts her cell phone from her purse, pulls out the antenna, and puts the phone to her ear. |
(while BRUTUS peruses the letter; whispering) This is some pickle we've gotten ourselves into—isn't it! |
It sure is! What are we gonna do? |
Well, we can't just jump up and march across the stage, and out! We've created enough of a disturbance already! |
I told you those stairs didn't look familiar! |
Then why the hell didn't you stop me! I was doing the best I could! It was pitch-black, back there! |
Well, you got us into this! You get us out! And next time, listen to me! |
(pause) I can't remember. Does Brutus ever. . .sit on his bench? |
(considering her husband's predicament, and her own—and the
fact that their presence isn't affecting the performance—shaking the bushes and giggling) |
"Brutus, though sleep'st. Awake, and see thyself! |
(into phone, whispering excitedly) Honey, do you have the camcorder? This would be a great opportunity to get some terrific footage! What a vantage point, what a view! There can't be many people who've ever watched theater this close, I mean, right on stage! Who's ever going to believe we did? Don't we want to be able to prove to our friends that we did? |
(quietly) Do you think there's enough light? Hold on, hold on. alternately disguising herself and not bothering to, rifles in her purse. Furtively raising herself to the top of the bushes, she lifts the camcorder to her face, and points it. |
"Speak, strike, redress!" Am I entreated and dials. From RALPH'S phone we hear a musical call signal. RALPH pulls out the antenna, answers. |
(whispering excitedly) I want to get you in the picture! Wave—so I can get you in the picture! MYRNA reappears with the camcorder. RALPH awkwardly waves, smiles, mugs. Enter Lucius. |
Sir, March is wasted fifteen days. |
'Tis good. Go to the gate; somebody knocks. MYRNA continues to take pictures. Relaxing, acquiescing to his plight, RALPH smiles sheepishly at, then waves to the audience: yoo-hoo! If the desired laughter is produced, he makes faces, hams it up. |
Since Cassius first did whet me against Caesar, Growing bolder, RALPH raises himself and looks around wonderingly, then glances at his wife and motions to show that his hands and knees are sore. As BRUTUS and LUCIUS are preoccupied with their performances, he impishly hops onto the bench, swings around, and lies back. With a shrug that says, well if it doesn't make any difference, MYRNA comes forward from behind the bushes, sits on the rock, wraps her arms around her knees like a fascinated schoolchild, and follows BRUTUS and LUCIUS'S speeches. She sits demurely, at first, then begins gesticulating, frowning at phrases she doesn't like, giving arm pumps at phrases she does, occasionally wagging her arm with a hurry up, get-on-with-it motion. |
Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the door, |
Is he alone? |
No, sir, there are moe [more] with him. |
Do you know them? |
No, sir. Their hats are plucked about their ears |
Let 'em enter. |
They are the faction. O conspiracy, |
Sally? Hi, honey. Listen, I can't talk now, I'm at the theater. (pause) No. (pause) Yes. (pause) But let's talk about it tomorrow. (pause) You're right, I should have. They asked us to turn our ringers off, but I forgot. (pause) I can't right now, honey. (pause) I'll call you tomorrow. (pause) 'Bye. (he hangs up) |
For if thou path, thy native semblance on, |
Henry? This is Ralph. Look, I'm sorry to bother you at home,
but I've decided I want to unload General Chemical. I've been thinking about what you said, and you're
right. It's not going to go above 36. (pause) I'm calling you now because tomorrow's gonna be a busy day. (pause) No, I'm at the theatre, with Myrna. (pause) No, not in our seats. I mean, we had good seats, terrific seats, but
we're in better seats now. What happened was, there was a little accident during intermission. Henry, you're not going to
believe this. . . . (considering his circumstances, smiling) I'll
tell you about it another time, I'm sort of preoccupied, right
now. (pause) Thanks, Henry. I appreciate it. sinks back on the headrest, catches himself, turns to MYRNA, winks, and, joining thumb to forefinger, flashes an A-okay sign. |
(sitting up; pleased with himself, forsaking all courtesy and propriety;
to BRUTUS) |
(realizing he can no longer fight it; interrupting) You want a drink? |
(to BRUTUS) It'd be awfully nice. But I don't want to impose. I mean, only if it's not an imposition. |
(disoriented) Uh, what would you like? |
How about a scotch on the rocks? Would that be all right? |
Uh, Lucius, get this gentleman a scotch on the rocks. You'll find what you need in my dressing room. (afterthought) Or what, in this theater, they laughingly call a dressing room. |
(as LUCIUS passes to stage right; cheerfully) Could I have one too? Oh, but make mine, make mine. . . (glancing at RALPH: what do I usually get?) Make mine a scotch and soda! |
Certainly. (under his breath, borrowing the line from Hamlet) We'll teach you to drink ere you depart. BRUTUS fidgets. Pleased with themselves, RALPH and MYRNA trade surprised smiles. LUCIUS returns, a white towel draped over his arm, a drink in each hand. |
(as she accepts hers) Thank you so much. Really, very thoughtful. |
(accepting his) Indeed, indeed, very kind of you. Thank you so much. |
(rocking from foot to foot, fuming; to RALPH) I suppose you'd like a newspaper, too. |
(crossing his legs and getting comfortable) |
No no, it's no trouble at all. (to LUCIUS, pointing to RALPH) Go get him the morning paper. It should be out by now. |
(catching LUCIUS as he departs; brightly) |
(coyly, coquettishly) You see, I left mine on my seat. |
(definitively losing patience) Look, lady. This is Julius Caesar. This is Shakespeare. |
(as if her sophistication were being questioned) I'm quite aware of that, thank you very much. But I want to know who the characters are. |
(holding out hands in a can't-you-see gesture) I'm Lucius. (pointing, palm up) This is Brutus. |
(as before) Oh, I know that. I know who you are. But I want to know who's playing you. |
Damn it, lady! I'm playing me! And— (motioning to BRUTUS) Oh, phooey. returns with the newspaper and a Playbill, distributes them as requested. MYRNA, sitting on her rock, investigates the Playbill. RALPH, drink in one hand, newspaper in the other, peruses the front page, then sets his drink down, extracts the Business Section, and studies the day's stock quotes. BRUTUS motions to LUCIUS. They converge at center stage and whisper. MYRNA and RALPH remain absorbed in their reading. Eventually BRUTUS and LUCIUS separate and cross, BRUTUS to RALPH, LUCIUS to MYRNA. |
(to MYRNA, genially) Are you finding what you're looking for? Or are you reading the ads for other shows? (taking umbrage) I hope you're not checking the competition. Hell, you're presently in a show. Can't you be content with that? |
(talking to herself as she flips through the pages) |
(to RALPH, genially) Is everything all right over here? Is there anything else I can get you? |
Oh, no no. No, thank you, I'm quite comfortable. Everything's tickety-boo. It's getting much easier to read, now that the sun is coming up. My thanks
to the lighting director. the bushes—anguished cries, sounds of resistance— and suffocates her with his towel. At the same time, BRUTUS pulls his dagger from its scabbard, thrusts it behind the newspaper, and into RALPH'S chest. The newspaper, followed by RALPH'S arm, falls slowly to the floor. BRUTUS wipes the dagger on RALPH'S jacket, and replaces it. Panting, BRUTUS and LUCIUS back away from their victims and eye one another, first with fury, then with relief. |
(appropriating a line from later in Julius Caesar; under his breath) The evil that men do lives after them. |
(overhearing) Well, we've done it. They had their evil, we have ours. Now what are we gonna do? |
(after a thought) They both have cell phones. Call nine-one-one. realizes that RALPH is the better choice, and crosses to RALPH. He removes the phone from Ralph's jacket, pulls out the antenna, raises the phone, and speaks. |
(gesticulating, looking from side to side, at the ceiling, at
his feet—even turning his back to the audience—as he speaks) places the phone on RALPH'S chest, and turns to BRUTUS. They look at each other with what-do-we-do-now? expressions. Moving downstage left, as if for privacy, they huddle for a conference. The lights start to dim. Their conversation is animated, if inaudible; they gesticulate, nod, shake their heads. BRUTUS, over his shoulder, points his thumb at the audience, which leads LUCIUS to turn, shield his eyes, and briefly contemplate it. Finally they take their positions and resume their poses. CASSIUS enters. |
[(with a Shakespearian flourish)] raising their arms to their chests, draw themselves up with military bearing while confronting the audience with triumphant, vaguely conspiratorial expressions. The lights continue to dim, until BLACKOUT
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