THE DANCE

Richard Foreman

SCENE I

(In a room, with a dance floor)

(CAROL puts on record. She wears sunglasses)

CAROL

Shall we dance, Harold?

(Pause)

What's wrong?

HAROLD

I can't see who's talking.

CAROL

(Hold out arms)

Here I am

HAROLD

But there's a light streaming into my eyes from just over your head-- blinding me.

Get rid of it, please

CAROL

There's no light

HAROLD

It's blinding me.

CAROL

It must be the intense fragrance of the special rose perfume that I'm wearing today and you haven't heretofore experienced. Possible?

HAROLD

I said light,

(Covers eyes)

not perfume.

CAROL

Maybe two sensory systems are at war inside your body, Harold. (Pause)

That should make you a superior dance partner.

.

HAROLD

I don't think that follows.

CAROL

Let's try

HAROLD

You don't really believe that's possible?

CAROL

But it's your own idea, Harold.

HAROLD

Not consciously at least.

CAROL

We can test it by trying.

Let's dance.

(MUSIC fades)

HAROLD

I'm not putting ideas into your head, am I?

CAROL

Of course you are.

HAROLD

What happened to the music?

CAROL

It disappeared because you didn't take advantage of it. By dancing . But I understand that first, you wanted to rest your eyes from this hypothetical bright light.

(Pause)

Should I turn down the lights?

HAROLD

You said it was perfume.

CAROL

But you perceive it as light

HAROLD

I'd like to take a photograph , if I may?

(He has camera around neck)

CAROL

Even if your eyes hurt?

HAROLD

(Pause)

One of my unrealized dreams is to have your photograph so that I can refer to it.

CAROL

Hardly compatible with resting one's eyes, Harold.

HAROLD

The camera does the work, not me.

CAROL

You have to aim it, though.

(Pause)

Don't you believe in aiming your camera to capture the image you want?

HAROLD

I believe in that.

CAROL

So?

HAROLD

Perhaps what I anticipate is an exercise to strengthen the eyes, i.e. 'aiming'. That must be better than encouraging them to fall into slothful relaxation.

CAROL

(Extends her arms)

I'm inviting them.

Dance, Harold.

HAROLD

They are dancing.

CAROL

Just the eyes?

(He stares at her, as she moves slowly)

HAROLD

The impulse, I'll admit, is to let them gently close as you drift from left to right-- bathing them in a restful twilight, waiting . . .for the music to return and deepen the atmosphere. But that's only my imagination at work. When I do close them, after they've followed you halfway around the room, I experience a very subtle twinge of pain somewhere between the eye and brain, believe it or not, that's what it feels like. As if there's something in sight, that wants to be still more completely fulfilled. Which has something to do with why I imagined taking photographs.

CAROL

Now it's plural

HAROLD

(Frowns)

Well, it might be--

CAROL

Do you ever dance?

HAROLD

Up til now-- I haven't .

CAROL

(Pause)

Allow me to say, taking a photograph would be a superficial confrontation of a real problem.

HAROLD

How do you define real problems.

CAROL

Far be it for me -- I'm just picking up hints in which I hear YOU attempting such a definition .

HAROLD

I have difficulty, listening to myself even when I'm talking.

CAROL

(Pause)

What did you first say to me? Can you remember?

HAROLD

I can remember. I said I could not see , because the light seemed so intense. Don't you find it more than usual.

CAROL

Yes, I do.

HAROLD

Why is that.

CAROL

Whenever I rise from my chair with the expectation of being asked to dance, it's what I experience. It's a function of that particular and strange expectation of using the body in an active, yet non-productive manner.

HAROLD

I don't think of it as non-productive.

CAROL

You don't dance.

HAROLD

I watch.

CAROL

I haven't danced yet either, but I would like to.

HAROLD

You can't photograph something that's non-productive.

CAROL

It could be productive of my pleasure.

(Pause)

Isn't it productive of your pleasure?

HAROLD

That's not being productive

CAROL

How strange to say that. It means you don't understand anything about pleasure. But of course not. You don't dance.

HAROLD

You bring me to the verge of trying.

CAROL

(Holding out arms)

Well?

HAROLD

(Laughs)

It makes one think this is perhaps a room of potential revelation.

CAROL

I didn't go that far.

HAROLD

No. You didn't .

(MAURICE appears)

MAURICE

Harold? Are you ready to show what you've learned?

HAROLD

I've learned how to dance.

MAURICE

You'd better demonstrate

CAROL

One doesn't demonstrate. One dances.

MAURICE

I question whether Harold's about to do either.

CAROL

Of course he is. He's about to study his photographs, and then, on the basis of that careful study, he's about to launch into his particular and specific version of what he will call, from this moment on. . .dancing.

HAROLD

I haven't taken any photographs.

CAROL

Then take them right now, Harold. As Maurice and I begin dancing.

HAROLD

I don't see you and Maurice dancing.

CAROL

That's because you haven't done enough to encourage us.

MAURICE

Harold only believes in what's happened in the past, not the future. That's why he brought his camera.

CAROL

He could let YOU hold it for a while--

MAURICE

Harold establishes the rules of the game.

HAROLD

Does Maurice see anything unusual about the lighting this room?

MAURICE

Yes.

HAROLD

Tell us about it.

MAURICE

I can't put everything into words, Harold.

HAROLD

Then I can't believe you, and I think you're just humoring me.

MAURICE

I'd have no reason to humor you.

HAROLD

Except to keep me from flying into a rage in front of Carol. Since that rage would probably be directed against you.

CAROL

Why would you get angry at Maurice?

HAROLD

Because he was supposed to give me dancing lessons, but no progress has been made.

CAROL

I asked you to dance.

HAROLD

Asking isn't enough. You're supposed to find a way to fill me with the requisite determination, so that I can hardly resist my own impulses.

CAROL

(Looks at MAURICE)

Can he do that?

HAROLD

Who?

MAURICE

My name is Maurice.

HAROLD

What are you doing here, Maurice?

MAURICE
(Thinks)

Trespassing on your private domain, Harold.

HAROLD

No, no. My private domain is in here. (Taps his forehead) Out there where you're standing, it's Carol's private domain, and it's Maurice's private domain .

CAROL

Very well, I'll put on some music.

(She does, pause, then she and Maurice dance)

HAROLD

(Pause)

Where do you learn that dance, Maurice?

MAURICE

In town.

HAROLD

(Pause)

This town?

CAROL

Harold's having trouble seeing how we dance, because of the light. (Pause, they do a twist step)

Is that why you don't step forward to join us?

HAROLD

(Pause)

May-be.

(He exits, they stop dancing. Music stops))

MAURICE

Does Harold find you attractive?

CAROL

Yes.

MAURICE

You can tell that immediately.

CAROL

Yes

MAURICE

I wish he'd join us, but he won't of course.

CAROL

I think he will eventually.

MAURICE

No. He hasn't been able to adjust to this. . .atmosphere. He says it's the light, but really it's something else.

CAROL

What

MAURICE

I don't know.

(Pause)

Harold's a relative mystery to me.

CAROL

I can tell.

MAURICE

Can you?

CAROL

But you seem quite to accommodate.

MAURICE

(Frowns, )

I suppose I do.

CAROL

I'll make him a gift of my sunglasses--

MAURICE

You can't be that simpleminded.

CAROL

He complains about the light

MAURICE

You can't be that simpleminded.

CAROL

Right. I'm not

(Pause, smiles)

But what do YOU mean to do about the situation, exactly

MAURICE

I'm not sure we have a situation

MAURICE

Harold is a situation. We don't fully appreciate it yet--

MAURICE

--I'm willing to accept the suggestion that the rose perfume you wear attacks the sensory mechanism and inhibits the free interaction of body and mind in collaboration.

CAROL

(Holds out arms)

Let's find out.

MAURICE

I don't feel like dancing

CAROL

It was just a suggestion

MAURICE

But it was a powerful suggestion I can't understand resisting.

CAROL

You found it an irrational suggestion because there was no music backing it up.

MAURICE

The more irrational the better, Isn't that a paradox?--

CAROL

I could put on some music.

MAURICE

(Laughs)

Let's stay with the paradox.

(Arms out)

CAROL

Inviting me to dance?

MAURICE

There's no music, is there?

But the atmosphere seems conducive to gluing all kinds of contradictions into cohesive wholes--

(They go to each other, dance a bit in silence, as HAROLD appears in door)

HAROLD

Shall I keep myself halfway through the door like this?

CAROL

(Breaking from MAURICE)

Does it mean something definitive about joining us?

MAURICE

He's not up to it yet.

HAROLD

I though Maurice wasn't supposed to come into the room during my half hour?

CAROL

Did he?

(Pause)

I didn't notice, Harold, because whatever it may look like my thoughts were still obsessively concerned with your problem and I saw nothing else.

HAROLD

I see you've taken off your glasses.

CAROL

Better or worse?

MAURICE

I think Harold's in suspended animation.

HAROLD

Of course--

CAROL

I see you've gotten rid of the camera.

HAROLD

I've decided to commit myself.

CAROL

To what Harold?

(MAURICE GOES)

HAROLD

Come back, Maurice, and watch how I operate!

CAROL

He's gone, Harold.

(Music starts)

Ah. . .he's playing some music.

(As lights start to fade)

Harold-- you better make your move before it's too late.

SCENE II

(CAROL sits, below dance floor level.

HAROLD on dance floor, extends arms)

CAROL

Will you dance with me?

HAROLD

I would have thought I was making an appropriate gesture.

CAROL

It's hard to tell.

(Pause)

You're so much the center of my attention, I don't have any attention.

(Pause)

Later, maybe.

HAROLD

Later maybe what?

CAROL

He who dances last, is both light on his feet, and the one who carries his body with a weight that is most serious. I know you find that hard to follow, but that's because you keep your sense of humor separated from anything that might laugh.

HAROLD

It's called, being a good dancer.

CAROL

Is it? Everything I hear I tend to think get's twisted in the transmission.

HAROLD

Oh I never transmit, I communicate brain to brain, foot to foot, whatever it is that get's called into play.

CAROL

Which is why you're such a good dancer.

HAROLD

See? My words come back to me and not only that, I recognize them as my own. Maybe I'll sit this one out--

CAROL

This what--?

(He starts to the side, trips and falls))

CAROL

(Pause, quiet)

Crash. That was hard to miss.

HAROLD

Why is it that everything I do attracts your attention?

CAROL

I was trying to attract yours, which is why I let nothing go by unremarked.

HAROLD

You still want to dance?

CAROL

Not till I find out what kind of impression you're trying to make. I had a brother who loved dancing, but there were other aspects of his character not very commendable. Does that make you think I think that the dancing, in and of itself is necessarily commendable? Not quite-- only when it becomes the sole category available for self expression, but that happens never because we're here on such a multi-faceted planet

HAROLD

I would have said multi-faceted city

CAROL

I would have even said, in agreeing with your qualification of course, multifaceted set of circumstances such as the one's in which we find ourselves, only what happened to all the other dances who may or may not chose to dance when invited?

HAROLD

They're in different rooms, some of them getting refreshment and some of them freshening up.

CAROL

Oh? They needs lots of freshening up.

HAROLD

Some.

CAROL

And you?

(he shrugs)

And me?

HAROLD

I have to be very careful about what I say

CAROL

Very.

HAROLD

And I was.

(She holds her head)

Is something wrong?

CAROL

I'm a little dizzy. It could be age. Let's hope not.

HAROLD

It's hard to avoid, eventually. That's why I say. . .

(holds out arms)

Now's the time to dance and play.

It may not last, another day.

CAROL

Now you're trying to dance with words.

HAROLD

I am. But I don't want it to substitute

CAROL

For what

HAROLD

For the real thing, of course

CAROL

(Pause)

Would you mind if I called somebody into the room to tie your legs together? Just slightly-- I mean it wouldn't be tight, or hurt, it would just slightly restrict your movement.

HAROLD

HAROLD

My dancing ability

CAROL

If you tried to dance, yes.

HAROLD

I see. You think I've talked about it, without being certain-- I mean you aren't certain, that I will ever get to do it, actually.

CAROL

I don't analyszed my motives as carefully as you seem to. It was an idea that welled up.

HAROLD

Welled up?

CAROL

Yes. Gushed.

(Pause, smiles)

That sounds like a force of nature, doesn't it?

HAROLD

If you're in a decompression chamber, I suppose things do gush up to fill that vacuum. But my advice is, don't look to see what's happening. My advice is. .dance. Let me lead you into a dance.

CAROL

Not so fast, please.

HAROLD

Why not as fast as possible. I mean deciding to try it, whether it's fast slow, moderate or whatever.

(Someone enters and ties his feet)

CAROL

Ah, this is what I was proposing.

HAROLD

Though it was talked about I didn't one hundred per-cent expect it.

CAROL

Imagine it arriving from different directions, not in the direction you choose to feel constricted.

HAROLD

I don't follow that.

CAROL

Good. Then you arrive at freedom.

HAROLD

What?

CAROL

Freedom. Isn't that a better basis on which to begin your complicated maneuvers, Harold? I think I'm ready to dance--

HAROLD

I may have trouble, now.

CAROL

No. You are in a hypercube.

Simply stretch it by moving the whole body

Or if you'd rather-- think of it this way Harold. Loose as a goose.

HAROLD

Loose as a goose?

CAROL

Loose as a goose.

(Some dancing)

(SHE is soon dancing about him, as he gives way to the paralysis suggested by his being foot-tied. Eventually, he brings his hands up to cover his eyes. She stops dancing)

HAROLD

If what I capture, when I open my eyes, is really a new world, will you help me conceptualize it.?

CAROL

I'm no painter of new worlds, friend Harold.

HAROLD

How strange you call me that.

CAROL

Friend?

HAROLD

I'm nobody's friend if they constrict my free movement this way

.

CAROL

I know. That's why I was very, very, surprised when you asked for help.

HAROLD

Did I ?

(Uncovers eyes)

I guess I did.

CAROL

You make me feel very old when you look at me as if you've suddenly lost your zest for life, Harold. Loose as a goose?

(Blackout. Then lights up-- they are in different position. Then blackout)

SCENE III

(Harold appears on the platform, takes a pose. MAURICE watches)

HAROLD

Within me, nothing else need surface . You agree?

MAURICE

I don't know what you mean by SURFACE, Harold.

(Pause)

Do you mean nothing else has to appear on the surface of your body?

HAROLD

You can't see the surface of my body. It's totally covered, isn't it?

MAURICE

Yes. It's well covered.

HAROLD

Would you prefer it if I undressed? No. Clearly you would not. We may say,

therefore, that what I show, which is hidden, is in fact sufficient.

So. There is the postulated hidden. And there is or is not, something which emerges from that hidden. And that is, as always, the case.

(Pause)

Don't look quite so baffled, Maurice.

It's your own fault, as usual, if this manifestation. . .which in fact is very clear to you, is not clear to you at all.

MAURICE

As you of course understand, Harold, I act as if I don't know what you mean.

HAROLD

Of course.

(Pause) Shall we dance?

MAURICE

Of course. I always enjoy that.

HAROLD

(Takes deep breath)

What I mean is, if delight, sufficient unto itself, does not pour forth from you, owing directly to me and my presence which causes you that delight--

MAURICE

Oh, but it does Harold, believe me, even if the light of joy pouring forth from my eyes isn't on a wave length you seem capable of picking up on tonight.

HAROLD

Tonight? What's different about tonight from all other nights?

MAURICE

Nothing I can think of

HAROLD

Then why mention it?

MAURICE

Because it. . .came to me.

HAROLD

Oh.

(Pause).

Here , as it is manifest now. . . in my physical being--

MAURICE

I love it, when you start cranking up the mental machine just to give me anticipatory pleasure--

HAROLD

I assure you, it's my own pleasure I'm thinking of.

MAURICE

Can't I share?

HAROLD

(looks at him)

I suppose so. Where was I?

MAURICE

Cranking up.

HAROLD

Give me a better hint that that.

.MAURICE

You were being self indulgent and I was about to enjoy giving out with a small whinny of disgust.

HAROLD

Ah,

(Pause)

You turn from my celebration of self, of course, in search of. .something less physically oppressive, less tactile in its potentiality. But you are yourself in deep error, which is why you turn.

MAURICE

Don't think I'm not happy with the opportunities your presence gives me for mental and physical gyration..

HAROLD

I'm happy you say you are happy .

MAURICE

Such a repetition of 'happies'. My God--

HAROLD

It's because your words have a way of escaping me, so I tend to insist upon my own with a kind of repetitiveness which is meant to build firm foundations on which some kind of dance might eventually evolve.

MAURICE

In other words, you haven't completely given up hope.

HAROLD

Not at all

MAURICE

You might break into physical frolic at any unexpected moment.

HAROLD

But isn't that what my presence implies? Continually?

(Holding out his arms)

I tend to. . .let your words escape me.

MAURICE

That's almost impolite

HAROLD

Yes, isn't it. But I'm into something else.

MAURICE

I can't imagine what.

HAROLD

I'm crystalizing something.

MAURICE

That sounds very private, so I think I'll . .

(Starts methodically backing out)

HAROLD

Do stay and be present at my moment of crystallization, Maurice.

MAURICE

To what end?

.

HAROLD

To be definitely a participant.

MAURICE

Oh? a veritable DANCE of crystallization?

HAROLD

In all aspects. Except you don't dance.

MAURICE

(Circles HAROLD)

A solo dance of crystallization for Harold. But how I can

participate without joining the dance?

HAROLD

By giving forth with what's in your heart , Maurice.

MAURICE

I do that by dancing it, of course.

HAROLD

No. You use the old fashioned, direct method, and say simply. . .Harold,

. . .I wish that I had a sweet.

MAURICE

(Pause)

A sweet what.

HAROLD

I wish . . .that I had. . . a sweet , right here in my mouth.

MAURICE

Ah. Where the words come from.

HAROLD

A cracker.

A sweet cracker,

And then I'd swallow it, slowly, to let a kind of golden sweetness spread through my whole body.

MAURICE

And then I'd begin to dance?

HAROLD

No Maurice. The sweetness would be total illusion, in this instance.. No matter, because one man's illusion is usually sufficient unto a whole world, but in this case it does mean 'no dancing'.

MAURICE

Ah,

(Pause)

. . .not yet?

HAROLD

In this case, not yet means never

MAURICE

So for a very long time words will be my one form of self expression?

HAROLD

Definitely the case.

(Pause, smiles)

You notice the slight sarcasm? The slight sneer?

(Slaps own wrist)

A bad thing for me to allow myself, Maurice. Especially since I am ostensibly here to minister to you in particular.

MAURICE

I had no idea.

HAROLD

Of course you didn't.

MAURICE

In that case, I'd like something sweet, please.

HAROLD

Of course you would.

(Pause)

Are you thinking of a cool glass of water?

MAURICE

Not quite.

HAROLD

But I think that's exactly what you must have in mind, for in fact you don't know your own mind at all, do you?

MAURICE

How presumptuous , Harold.

HAROLD

Prove me wrong, please.

MAURICE

(Pause)

I'll have to think about it

HAROLD

Oh no, Maurice-- it must be on the instant. NOW!

(Pause. Nothing happens. Harold seems weary)

I conclude I have not the energy to help you after all, Maurice. How sad of me, and of you, to think. . .I shall be forced to return to a past way of being, in search of that energy I once had when I was in a less fine place than this fine place.. How sad.

MAURICE

I'm not asking for help.

HAROLD

I know you're not asking.

MAURICE

I'm surprised to see you still here.

HAROLD

I know that .

MAURICE

How do you imagine helping me?

HAROLD

I don't imagine anything of the sort. I let it rise in me, then I simply note its availability.

MAURICE

The fact of the matter is, in MY imagination, you're no help at all.

HAROLD

That may be true, in your imagination.

MAURICE

In fact-- I'd like something sweet!

HAROLD

I do not believe I am here to give you something sweet.

MAURICE

(Pause)

Harold. . .would you like something sweet?

HAROLD

I'd rather not be asked, but I am asked and what I tell you is always the truth. . .I would like. . .something sweet. . .

(They dance)

HAROLD

Were you ever really a good person, Maurice?

MAURICE

I think not.

HAROLD

Ah. It must make you sad to think that

MAURICE

I can see why it would make me sad, but I don't see why it should do the same to you?

HAROLD

Because I'm not as light on my feet as once upon a time

MAURICE

I see that and accept that, Harold. Long ago, it was proposed to me that I make events out of each of my thoughts. You see

the implication? Events are usually made out of actions, and it would be quite different to make events out immaterial thoughts. But I have secretly purused that goal, and therein lies the source of whatever dance I dance.

So when I am denied that dance, as you have tried to deny me, the recourse to words alone seems quite...meaningless..

Up to now I have not accepted the merely spoken as meaningful, which is perhaps why I say I have not been a good person. I.E. I don't take my own words seriously, whatever they may be and whatever they may do to others. A surprising point of view?

But having introduced you into this peculiar perspective of my own, perhaps I shall now be requalified in your eyes as a good person who wipes out sentiments both good and bad with movements of the body. A surprising notion?

HAROLD

(thinks)

Tell me.What is the first thought, in your repertoire of thoughts?.

MAURICE

That I shall make thought. . .dance, of course.

HAROLD

So thought is replaced by action, not very original I'm afraid--

MAURICE

Wrong, because while action has an inevitable aim, what dances has no aim, Harold.

HAROLD

So the first thought is as follows. .

No thought. But still a thought.

(Harold holds his head, staggers)

MAURICE

Is Harold still dancing?

(Pause)

Hard to tell , isn't it.

(Quietly)

Stay where you are please.

(Pause)

Of course. Harold's happy to see me isolated. I'm not supposed to suffer along with him while he suffers. Very well, I'll pretend I don't.

(Blackout)

SCENE IV

(CAROL reveals painting, from behind a cloth. The image of a Blakean tiger)

CAROL

Is this animal. . .a beast such as you have imagined, Harold?

HAROLD

I don't know what it means, imagined, since I feel wide awake.

CAROL

A night beast.

HAROLD

It's eyes burn into me, but it's just an image..

CAROL

Is it just an image?

HAROLD

(Pause)

It's two dimensional rather than three.

CAROL

Ah, you prefer three dimensions.

HAROLD

(Laughs)

Don't use that as an excuse to call for Maurice .

CAROL

I wouldn't do that, because when Maurice comes you seem less inclined to dance.

HAROLD

I held out my arms .

CAROL

When was that? Did you imagine that?

HAROLD

(Points to painting)

Did you imagine that?

CAROL

Ah, we swerve , Harold.

HAROLD

Such a beast makes us swerve.

CAROL

(As they both move in semi-circle)

And having swerved, once, can we extend it, so that it has no end of swerving?

HAROLD

I'm afraid your question outdistances me.

(Pause)

Forgive me if I don't take your question very seriously but take it more as a swerve than a real question

CAROL

I hope our swerve doesn't make us fall over the furniture.

HAROLD

I don't see any furniture.

(Tiger picture pivots allowing a bed to roll, and picture returns back into place)

Why is there suddenly,

furniture, entering the picture.?

CAROL

Leaving the picture.

HAROLD

Here it is. Three D.

CAROL

It's very believable.

HAROLD

I don't think I'm imagining it.

CAROL

Just suppose--

HAROLD

No thank you.

CAROL

Hear me out. Just suppose--

HAROLD

No thank you.

CAROL

(She stares at him)

SUPPOSE. . . I moved the painting of the tiger into the bed, Harold. (Harold covers his ears. Pause)

Why do you cover your ears?

HAROLD

Because I look to you to manifest things, not for explanations of things that aren't there. Just as I look at your beautiful painting for emotional truth, and then discover I'm being lied to.

CAROL

I'm not lying.

HAROLD

(Amazed she doesn't understand)

But I lie to MYSELF!

CAROL

Then stop.

HAROLD

You want me to leave?

(Pause)

Most people, staring at that painted image would say "oh, what a fine picture of some flaming beast". Or they wouldn't put it that poetically, and they'd say "Oh, a picture of a tiger."

But I say-- I don't like people making fun of me.

CAROL

I think it's only your imagination, married to my art.

HAROLD

But what's really happening when that's happening?

(HE holds out arms)

CAROL

Having completed such a picture, a true artist should leave the scene completely

(SHE goes)

HAROLD

(Pause)

A true artist, should, properly, meet death.

(Pause)

Does he?

((HE lies on the bed. Pause)

I think so

(CAROL re-enters wearing her dark glasses and carrying

HAROLD's camera)

CAROL

May I take your photograph, Harold?

(HAROLD shakes his head)

Is it because you're afraid I'll capture some aspect you'd rather not have to recognize?

HAROLD

Of course not.

CAROL

Maybe you're afraid when we develop the film, your image simply won't appear. You won't exist.

HAROLD

I'm not that easy to trick.

CAROL

It wouldn't be a trick. It would be a sign.

HAROLD

You can photograph the painting. Maybe when you develop the film the tiger won't be there, which would prove I was imagining it.

CAROL

(Pause. Aims camera)

I think I'll try that.

HAROLD

I hope you will.

(She shoots, flash goes. Pause)

CAROL

I've used up the painting, Harold. Now I have to find something else on which to exercise my abilities.

HAROLD

Not me, however.

CAROL

Still not you?

HAROLD

Not unless I turn into a tiger. But I'll be the judge of whether or not I turn into the tiger you're forced me to start imagining.

(Pause, she suddenly shots him as the camera flashes, and lights go out.

Lights come up and bed and picture are gone)

CAROL

What do you suppose happened to the picture Harold?

HAROLD

I don't know

CAROL

You take the blame I hope.

HAROLD

No.

CAROL

You take the blame for that.

HAROLD

I won't take the blame for that.

CAROL

Is that fair?

HAROLD

Oh yes, that's very fair.

(Pause)

May I have my camera back?

(She doesn't move, HAROLD calls)

Maurice?

CAROL

He won't come to your rescue, Harold.

HAROLD

I think I'll complain to Maurice that coming here in good faith, none of my expectations have been realized.

CAROL

I think Maurice will apportion the blame equally.

(MAURICE appears)

MAURICE

Why aren't you dancing, Harold?

CAROL

Time's up.

HAROLD

I feel dizzy, I'd like to lie down.

MAURICE

You don't look dizzy, Harold.

HAROLD

It's invisible, but it's there.

MAURICE

Where's the bed?

(Pause)

You can't lie down if there isn't a bed, unless you expect to lie down on the floor, but then we'd be stepping over your prone body and that would inhibit free circulation.

HAROLD

Right. There's no bed, and there's no evocative oil painting of a nocturnal beast with eyes of fire.

(MAURICE turns about, looking.)

MAURICE

You say that based on foreknowledge of such a painting, or simply observing that such a painting is not here.

(CAROL exits)

HAROLD

I observe what I observe.

MAURICE

Yes, but you spend so much of your time inside your own head, Harold, subtle and intricate as it's processes may be, that the body slowly withdraws from many gratifying possibilities.

HAROLD

That's not proved..

MAURICE

Why do you question the obvious.

(Indicates HAROLD with both hands, then turns to see CAROL entering lugging big TIGER painting)

Ah. Now I'm very perplexed.

HAROLD

Nobody blames you for being perplexed Maurice. It suits you much better than the artificial pose of authority you've been trying to adopt.

MAURICE

I have considerable authority in this room.

HAROLD

You do?

MAURICE

I do.

HAROLD

Why does this imaginary image upset a reasonable sort of person like yourself?

MAURICE

Because I'm not as reasonable as you'd like to believe-- it's just your way of trying to keep me under your control when in fact... I'm capable of much more irrational and unexpected behavior than simply turning into the image of this beast that you'd like to imagine as one of your many disguises.

HAROLD

I wear no disguises.

MAURICE

The disguise of dizziness? The disguise-- non dancer?

HAROLD

I've made myself available.

CAROL

Here's what you've been looking for Harold.

(She passes the painting to him, and he is whirling under the impact of receiving it)(He faces into the image)

MAURICE

I'm supposed to be sympathetic as I watch Harold transform himself into one of his many assumed personas, but in my humble opinion, what I'm able to identify as REALLY manifest in this little dance, is called going around in circles for nothing.

HAROLD

Correct as usual, Maurice-- just the pure pleasure of the thing!

(It's big and awkward for him)

CAROL

The painting might not yet be dry, Harold. So a bit of tiger might be rubbing off on your costume.

HAROLD

(Stops whirling) Why do you call it my costume?

CAROL

Because there wasn't any fast-drying paint.

HAROLD

(Pause)

If you'd have had it, would you have used fast drying paint?

(Pause)

It would have been a mistake.

(He moves the painting away from his body)

CAROL

It looks like nothing made a smudge.

MAURICE

So much the worst.

CAROL

For my next painting, I'll have to find extra slow-drying paint.

HAROLD

It shouldn't be hard to find.

CAROL

I haven't tried.

HAROLD

I can tell you that from experience. Not paint-buying experience, but experience in general.

MAURICE

Does Harold perceive accurately--

HAROLD

Yes.

MAURICE

Because slowly?

HAROLD

Everything in time Maurice. As opposed to you, who always rush things-

MAURICE

That's what I meant.

(Smiles)

Soon, you'll have me on the defensive.

CAROL

You feel under attack?

MAURICE

Almost.

HAROLD

So do I, and yet in other ways we seem so DIS-similar--

CAROL

Not really, but I'm working on it..

HAROLD

Making us even more dis-similar than now? How will you go about that, Carol?

CAROL

Everything in it's time. It won't require effort--

(She extends arms to dance)

HAROLD

Then I must be attacking Maurice involuntarily, from inside a part of myself with which I have no contact .

CAROL

True enough

HAROLD

That's a frightening idea. And since something in my relationship to Maurice is the source of that fear, it turns around so that you are the really hostile one, Maurice.

(He is now extending arms to Maurice)

MAURICE

That is also true.

HAROLD

And what I shall do now, is devote myself to an exploration of whatever transpires deep inside me. Hoping thereby, to travel through the full course of my agitation, to emerge, somehow, calm.

(His arms are still out. Darkness falls. )

* * * * * * * * * *

(When the lights return, HAROLD is alone)

HAROLD

The first thing I choose to examine, is this small vial of poison.

(CAROL appears)

CAROL

Put down that poison, Harold.

HAROLD

How did you know?

CAROL

What.

HAROLD

How did you know this was poison, and is it really?

CAROL

Anything can be poison

HAROLD

Did I make this into poison?

CAROL

I believe so.

HAROLD

But why would I have done that by choice.

CAROL

Perhaps not by choice

HAROLD

Then how could it have happened.

CAROL

Something dark inside you could have made it happen, I suppose.

(Pause)

By the way. If you swallow poison, as it's taking effect, it makes you dance.

HAROLD

Not true.

CAROL

It's true

HAROLD

I've already taken it in fact.

CAROL

No you haven't

HAROLD

Remember earlier when I complained about the light, and you said it was the rose perfume you were wearing? It wasn't the rose perfume. It was poison.

CAROL

Poison you'd already taken.

HAROLD

Yes.

CAROL

You'd better get to bed.

HAROLD

I don't see a bed.

CAROL

Are you hallucinating tigers?

HAROLD

(He drinks)

No.

CAROL

It was sweet of you to bring me flowers.

(SHE disappears)

HAROLD

(Calls after her)

I though you hadn't realized--

(She comes in room with roses, he lowers his voice)

. . .they were my gift.

CAROL

(Pause)

You understand, of course, that I'm capable of rewarding you in my own very determined way.

(ENTER MAURICE with flowers. CAROL turns)

CAROL

Are those for me?

HAROLD

I have some poison here, Maurice.

CAROL

I think you should hide it, Harold.

HAROLD

Why?.

CAROL

Increase it's potency Harold. Hide it.

HAROLD

Why increase it's potency.?

MAURICE

(Pause)

Harold, have you any idea what happened to the picture of the tiger.

HAROLD

It was mental poison, so I destroyed it by ribbing it against my chest.

CAROL

(Laughs)

Oh yes, it looked like you were dancing with it.

HAROLD

(Angry)

Well I certainly was!

MAURICE

But why do you call it mental poison?

(Pause)

Ah--Was it because tigers eat people?

HAROLD

When they are aroused, yes they eat people.

MAURICE

Does aroused mean angry?

HAROLD

Yes.

MAURICE

Angry about what.

HAROLD

(Pause)

Angry about changes in their environment , both internal and external, that they cannot explain to themselves.. If an innocent lamb, for instance, enters the evironment of a tiger, the tiger cannot explain his environment to the lamb in a way that the lamb will understand. And he thereupon eats the innocent lamb. That is being . . .tiger-like. And as a result the lamb is eaten.

CAROL

The lamb might also be eaten simply, for dinner. The tiger's idea of dinner.

HAROLD

But in that case , the lamb would not be poisonous to the tiger. The lamb would be simply. . .a lamb chop. Or a leg of lamb.

MAURICE

But you're imagining a lamb that is poison just by being a lamb.

HAROLD

Yes.

MAURICE

(Pause, quietly)

My goodness.

HAROLD

So you see, I may well have poisoned myself.

(Drinks again)

Not that one can ever be absolutely certain.

(BED slides into view)

HAROLD

That's logical enough. It's late , and I'm exhausted from the mental effort I've been making to keep myself from breaking into wild and uninhibited dance like patterns of movement--

MAURICE

Plus you make have taken poison.

HAROLD

Yes, that too.

CAROL

You must be hungry and thirsty.

HAROLD

That too.

CAROL

I'll get you something non poisonous to eat and drink

(She exits)

MAURICE

Do you still complain about the light?

HAROLD

I'd like to lie down.

MAURICE

I'd think by now you were acclimated.

HAROLD

Are you trying to tell me you've turned down the light?

(Pause)

If there's a bit less illumination, it's true that perhaps I won't be so easily seen making a fool of myself.

MAURICE

I'll put on a record.

HAROLD

Please don't.

MAURICE

I'll take it off as soon as Carol comes back--

HAROLD

I'm dizzy you know, music will just make it worse.

MAURICE

You don't look dizzy.

HAROLD

Oh yes I do.

MAURICE

How can you tell? Have you taken a picture of yourself?

HAROLD

I don't even have my camera

MAURICE

Where is it

HAROLD

Carol has it.

MAURICE

I didn't see Carol with your camera.

HAROLD

Then I don't know where it is.

MAURICE

Dizzy?

HAROLD

Yes.

MAURICE

I believe you.

HAROLD

Why do you suddenly believe me?

MAURICE

Because from where I stand, I can't be sure, so I've decided to believe you.

HAROLD

(Pause)

Then move a bit.

MAURICE

How should I do that , Harold?

HAROLD

You place one foot slightly askew, and then shift your weight from one foot to the other, in a certain rhythm, letting the rest of the body compensate, seeming . . .multi-directional. I know it seems difficult-- Carol has been on the verge of doing just that, several times, but unbeknownst to her, never actually done it. But I believe you could , Maurice. You begin by putting one foot askew.

MAURICE

Do you want me to put one foot askew?

HAROLD

Yes. Please do that.

MAURICE

What happened to the tiger that was watching this?.

HAROLD

(Pause)

It's disappeared, which doesn't mean that it does not bless us both.

MAURICE

Is it well hidden?

HAROLD

On purpose, Maurice. Because it's a poisoned image, which does not mean that it's power to bless is any less powerful.

MAURICE

How can an image bless someone?

HAROLD

(Painting appears rear)

It poisons the mind. And then finally, with time the mind, through the natural course of events, frees itself from that poison. I admit I don't know how, but it always does happen.

MAURICE

You believe it always happens.

HAROLD

I suffer. . .that belief.

MAURICE

Isn't it strange how it echoes our relationship, Harold. Poisoning the mind, and then invisibly, being free. At least dreaming about it.

HAROLD

Exactly.

MAURICE

That's why I close my eyes.

HAROLD

Don't kid me, Maurice. You're eyes don't close. One never gains even a momentary respite of invisibility with you on the premises.

MAURICE

(Covers his eyes)

Look again.

HAROLD

That's cheating Maurice.

MAURICE

I can't tell if I'm cheating of course. Since I'm not seeing from your point of view.

(HAROLD suddenly falls to the floor)

I don't believe that, Harold. Does that mean I'm cheating?

(CAROL has entered)

CAROL

What happened ?

MAURICE

Harold's imitating unconsciousness.

CAROL

Shall we put him to bed?

MAURICE

Not quite yet, which isn't being cruel, but just letting Harold write his own last two three or four chapters--

(HAROLD starts to rise, ends on his feet)

--which I'm sure is his preference, because if you haven't noticed already

(they are circling HAROLD)

--Harold's definitely a man of his own mind. So we could both, if you like, offer hands for support if he choses to reach for support--

(They do)

But I wouldn't go any further than that. I'd just stay here, available--

(HAROLD slowly goes to the bed and lies down, as they keep their hands out)

waiting to see whether Harold turns to us, or succeeds in maintaining this fiction of overwhelming self-sufficiency.

(Pause)

Is he dizzy? Yes. He may be some what dizzy. He may even think it's the beginning of a dance.

SCENE V

(HAROLD IN BED. )

MAURICE

Is anything different?

(Pause)

Now? Shall we dance?

I am surprised .

(Pause)

As soon as I say "I am surprised" don't you

come back at me with something like--what surprises you Maurice? Don't you pick up my cue? Don't you follow my lead, Harold? Don't you jump in wherever I invite you to jump in.?

(Pause)

Will you won't you

will you won't you

will you won't you join the dance?

(Pause)

I may have to leave you, Harold. You may have to deal with all your friends dropping you like a hot potato, if you refuse to make the slightest gesture, the tiniest effort.

(Pause)

Last chance, Harold. I'm on my way.

(Pause)

Solo. That's what you're opting for, Harold.

(Maurice exits)

HAROLD

(Pause)

At a certain point in my life,

a great tiredness flows through me.

(Pause)

As you might well imagine,

I could not complete

even what I had heretofore deemed important tasks.

Then I slowly, arrived at the realization,

that it was perhaps a great opportunity,

rather than an occasion for despair.

(MAURICE is now peeking in)

It came to me

That perhaps , a personal message, was taking this unusual form of great physical weariness of body and soul.

The specific message, specifically implying that all I had heretofore given great importance and to which I therefore dedicated great effort,

was perhaps, only the evidence of a wasted life,

thoroughly wasted--

if effort was directed to the achievement of those goals I had previously deemed of such importance.

In other word, the implication was clear.

A new mode of behavior was to be sought.

By me.

Though what it was I could not imagine.

In other words, the tiredness was in fact , some sort of higher force operating through me,

informing , or trying to suppress, that active part of myself

that had heretofore driven me foreward into a life of relatively great accomplishment, that in fact meant NOTHING.

And my great weariness was indeed personified now

as a self-invested speakingness- to -me

warning me to turn away from that life and those values I had believed in and invested all my energies. . .

MAURICE

I couldn't help overhearing

HAROLD

That's strange. I was speaking to myself.

MAURICE

(Pause)

I confess. I heard on purpose because of my great concern

for your mental stability

HAROLD

I'm mentally stable.

MAURICE

In a prone position?

HAROLD

Quite.

MAURICE

I don't equate it with mental stability, Harold.. I call it regressive behavior.

HAROLD

Because you view it from a distorted bodily posture.

MAURICE

Neutral posture.

HAROLD

Very aggressive, Maurice, with hands on hips, at a carefully calculated distance from my bed, you view me from the center of an unvoiced and in fact un-identifiable demand, though I'm sure you consider it very identifiable. Forgive me for noticing these things.

MAURICE

It's your imagination Harold.

HAROLD

Of course it is.

(Pause)

What are you thinking-- if that's what you'd like to call it.

(Pause)

Quick now, before I decide to pack up and move at least mentally to new quarters

MAURICE

Would Harold like to take up permanent residence?

HAROLD

Harold doesn't know yet.

MAURICE

Of course he could. He likes the wallpaper, doesn't he?

HAROLD

You think he noticed?

MAURICE

Did he notice? While many other things were whirling about in his consciousness--

HAROLD

Ah, things that are whirling are things that are ephemeral

MAURICE

So he noticed the wallpaper.

HAROLD

Hum, of course, it seems to whirl also, doesn't it.

MAURICE

Does it?

HAROLD

Patterns. Whirling. Though they don't move exactly

MAURICE

So he noticed.

HAROLD

If he didn't, he'd have to move through his life with his eyes closed.

MAURICE

That would be a tragedy.

HAROLD

Not a tragedy, but an inconvenience.

MAURICE

For a dancer like Harold. Even if currently-- out of action.

HAROLD

Who said out of action--

MAURICE

How do you distinguish between tragedy and inconvenience??

HAROLD

I call a tragedy major, and an inconvenience an irritant

MAURICE

(Pause)

Shall we agree that distinctions may not hold up from a slightly different perspective.

Nevertheless, to please Harold, as we always do try, believe it or not-- Shall we re-do the wallpaper?

HAROLD

Why?

MAURICE

I thought it whirled, made you dizzy, and sent you to your bed.

HAROLD

Please don't change the wallpaper..

MAURICE

(Pause)

Does Harold want supper served to him in bed?

HAROLD

Refreshments?

MAURICE

Major refreshments are offered Harold.

HAROLD

That has an ominous ring.

MAURICE

Frightened?

HAROLD

(Pause)

If Maurice doesn't alter his tone of voice, Harold may have to turn his face to the wall

MAURICE

Into the wallpaper.

HAROLD

Yes.

MAURICE

My syllables, still dancing in your ears, Harold.

HAROLD

The hallucinatory wallpaper effectively swamps the offending syllables.

MAURICE

Hallucinations mitigating the seven deadly hungers?

HAROLD

Of course

MAURICE

I've heard stories about hungry people eating wallpaper.

I hope you're up to better than that, Harold.

HAROLD

What do you mean better?

MAURICE

(Pause)

I think the style of life in which you seem ensconced. . .might be expected to provide better than wallpaper for between time refreshment. It's true that different circumstances settle themselves on different unfortunate people, all over this fair city and its environs, and somehow they do make do , do they not, but you , and I also, Harold are we not two of the more fortunate? who with continual luck shall continue to be more fortunate, in all things from dancing partner to between times refreshments to god knows what else?

(Pause)

I would say the wallpaper that from across the room, even, speaks to you in its very specific wallpaper language says in fact, you are one of the lucky one's Harold, and promises, that through me, wallpaper shall not be what you are forced to make do with for revitalizing refreshment. Now. Down to basics. What's your . . .desire, Harold What do you think would put a little energy back in those bones, get you up out of bed, back, dare I say it, onto the. dance floor?

(Pause)

It's menus I'm trying to call forth, from the recumbent organism

HAROLD

You've succeeded in making me want to not eat, that's with my head. But of course the rest of my what you call organism, the different levels I should say of my what you call organism, continues to have the continual needs that are usual.

(Pause)

Therefore, let me eat. My selection is as follows. Just some. . . fruit and cheese, please.

MAURICE

I'll deliver it

(He goes)

HAROLD

He says I'll deliver it, and He disappears on agile feet that seem to trip over the floor as if winged. Ah. The dance of anticipation, which merely releases me into the contemplation of the food that is not here, and with just a slight mental. . .slide over the plate of consciousness, I find myself back where I truly choose to be. Facing the wallpaper. Facing the pattern, which is not a pattern I can hope to grasp and therefore remember, so that not remembering because not being able to grasp, I shall forever and forever be always able to return to its contemplation with the same dizzy enthusiasm. Hurrah for that, only if I could turn hurrah into a word with softer, less definable beginnings and endings and then, truly. . .hurrah. . .

(He has slid himself off the bed, and is standing. Maurice returns)

MAURICE

Ah, I see somebody on their feet.

HAROLD

I see somebody without the promised snack.

MAURICE

Well, I thought about it and decided it was both premature and inappropriate

HAROLD

How could it be either

MAURICE

Very simple, I made it so in my mental frame of reference.

HAROLD

I have no desire to enter your mental frame of reference, and will therefore not even ask for an elaboration.

MAURICE

What we have here, seems to be a war between mental frames of reference. You fling forth the image of a certain wallpaper--

HAROLD

Which I notice you haven't much studied?

MAURICE

I avoid it very industriously, Harold. Right now, for instance-- I'm looking in your direction. But it's you're head I'm focusing on. Not any particular feature, just the sort of haze that seems to generalize it--

HAROLD

Ah, I have a mental haze?

MAURICE

In fact yes, which makes me wonder why doesn't Harold dance, and well at that

HAROLD

But he does and well at that

MAURICE

Then I've made my first mistake

HAROLD

What was that.

MAURICE

I remembered you better in a prone position.

HAROLD

I can erase that memory

(He gets back into bed).

MAURICE

Thank you. I don't like living in a world of memory.

HAROLD

That's why you never allowed yourself to get sucked into the wallpaper like I do.

MAURICE

Shall we dance?

HAROLD

Shall we dance?

MAURICE

You've made a mistake.

HAROLD

Who's made a mistake.

MAURICE

Me. I'm seeing double..

(Pause)

Did you ever have the feeling that sometimes the whole world seems like patterned wallpaper: and you're not quite sure if that's your personal vision of paradise or something else masquerading under the vision of hell-- which is a very paper thin tissue of lies but when you decided to dance you decided to get quite beyond whatever has only a mental reality. One of you could be a lot of help in that!

HAROLD

Which one.

MAURICE

I don't know how Harold could possibly make a relevant distinction.

HAROLD

Shall we dance?

MAURICE

In a prone position?

HAROLD

Quite.

MAURICE

(Pause)

Shall we dance?

HAROLD

You've e made a mistake

MAURICE

Asking you to dance?

HAROLD

Thinking I might not. Thinking I do not.

MAURICE

To me it does appear you've rendered yourself non-participatory.

HAROLD

Not all, foolish Maurice.

I've simply been given to see, that to continue efforts as usual would be of no gain to me or to the world.

MAURICE

And you encompass my own person, in that rubric, 'the world'?

HAROLD

I was being given direct evidence that at least the FORM of previous effort on my part was effort totally misplaced.

MAURICE

Ah. So you plan a new life of total passivity?

(Pause)

Danger, Harold.

HAROLD

Quite right , Maurice.

MAURICE

You agree with me?

HAROLD

Of course I agree with you.

MAURICE

From the self-indulgence of your hospital bed-

HAROLD

It's not a hospital bed--

MAURICE

Your spiritual retreat?

HAROLD

Exactly.

MAURICE

You agree with foolish and over-excitable Maurice wiggling his fingers as he tries to imprint the very image of real danger--

HAROLD

Of course there's danger in letting such messages seize me, bodily if you will--

MAURICE

If YOU will--

HAROLD

Well I DO because I have no CHOICE but to expose myself to the danger of cutting myself loose from all that up til now has DRIVEN me. I shall no longer be driven! That's the dangerous commitment to which I am now committed.

But I readily admit

trying to

hand myself over to the forces of the new, whatever those still to emerge forces may be,

as of yet

I make no headway.

This new dance

I'm waiting to learn

does not yet seize me, does not yet lift me from this bed of indolence.

In fact, to be frank

what happens to me is that I sink not only into an intensification of inaction,

but the tiredness seems even to deepen

radically,

until I do feel myself leading a truly slothful existence,

against which my still active moral sense revolts, in principal,

Revolts against seeing myself sunk into such a passive way of life.

What's to be done?

Or, to be more truthful, where should I look for help, when I realize it has to be inside myself but inside myself I find helplessness..

MAURICE

Forgive me Harold, but the fact that you so carefully present yourself,

orchestrate yourself I might even say--

HAROLD

It's forced on me.

MAURICE

It belies your professed situation, Harold.

HAROLD

Look at me!

MAURICE

That's what I'm doing, Harold. You're making a public appearance in a very unusual condition and state of mind. It rather contradicts the notion that you are incapable of all your usual manipulations.

HAROLD

You think I chose--?

MAURICE

Where did the bed come from Harold?

HAROLD

(Pause)

I don't know where the bed came from.

MAURICE

Impossible. The statement it makes is your statement

HAROLD

(Pause)

I give myself up to statements that crystalize around me to enclose my being, but I am not the source of those statements, Maurice. When you stand before me and begin to dance, are you the source of your eccentric little dances?

MAURICE

(wiggles fingers)

Am I the source of my little wiggling fingers?

HAROLD

Of course not.

MAURICE

Of course I am. And the statement is being made that this little scene between us quite convincingly suggests you have energetic resources within you more considerable than you'd like me to believe, as you try to hypnotize me with that considerable bed.

HAROLD

There's nothing considerable about it.

MAURICE

I differ--

HAROLD

It explodes from me in a kind of spasm.

But following that, it does not extend itself like normal reality.

I mean by that simply that, now, having said my piece,

I have no desire to press further,

MAURICE

No. You count on me to press further,

HAROLD

I suppose I do.

(Maurice rises and holds out his arms)

MAURICE

Shall we dance, Harold?

HAROLD

Unfortunately, I have no great faith in your ability, Maurice.

(Maurice starts to dance by himself)

That is, I have no great faith in your ability to solve my particular problem.

Though why I should expect you to solve my problems, is I suppose, another demonstration of the absolute selfishness of my project, which you may or may not have already noted, though I doubt you notice very much that transpires outside the bounds of that little dance you've decided will hold you in good stead for the next twenty or thirty years of a lifetime, at least.

(Pause. Maurice slows to a stop, and slowly looks at HAROLD)

And now it all comes true.

No one moves, no one says a word.

I wait.

And I do understand that perhaps my only hope is by sinking deeper still into this definitely non-dance until it turns into it's other invisible self. . ..

But if that's what's expected of me. . .I worry profoundly.

Have I the raw courage, to become even more contemptible in my own eyes.

MAURICE

You're a great romantic, Harold.

HAROLD

I suppose I am.

MAURICE

Perhaps you're waiting for me to come up with some . . .unimaginable adventure in which to re-involve you totally.

Without, of course, letting you know the adventure was the invented kind.

HAROLD

Unfortunately the therapy of invented adventures is well known to me. So I say don't bother trying.

I'd immediately see through any such invention,

Second, it would simply feed my romantic tendencies

and I'm sure we both feel convinced salvation lies not in that direction.

MAURICE

Third. You're looking for salvation.

HAROLD

Did you notice, I said second, you said third, but nobody said first?

MAURICE

You're avoiding the issue--

HAROLD

I'm not avoiding the issue of salvation.

MAURICE

You're embarrassed

HAROLD

I'm not embarrassed,

though I agree

it's ridiculous to confront you of all people directly with my problem.

MAURICE

Then what's to be done?

HAROLD

(Pause)

Of course, you ask that without expecting me to answer.

MAURICE

Of course.

HAROLD

So I WILL answer.

(Pause)

For the moment, there's nothing to be done.

But after tonight,

you will no doubt look upon me somewhat. . .differently.

I mean,

there will be a subtle different in the way you manifest to my presence.

That will be unavoidable.

And who knows, perhaps that very slight alteration. . .will make some perceptible difference in your world.

Because my world, in turn,

will be differently constituted, ever so slightly.

And out of that difference, it is conceivable something may slowly grow.

(Pause)

Now Maurice, I should like you to kneel down before me.

MAURICE

We choose not to do that

HAROLD

We?

(Pause)

Who do you represent, Maurice.

MAURICE

I represent everyone to whom you might have addressed that request.

HAROLD

And everyone refuses.

MAURICE

Correct.

HAROLD

Then. I shall laboriously rise from my bed so that I,

may kneel before. . . you.

(He does, prayerful)

MAURICE

I sense that your gesture is not sincere.

HAROLD

You have no way of knowing that

MAURICE

(Pause)

May I help you back to bed.

HAROLD

Do you want to?

MAURICE

I prefer it to this.

HAROLD

(Smiles)

Then let's assume this never happened.

(Lights dim,MUSIC, rises, and they are seen dancing. Then the lights dim again)

FINAL SCENE: (Harold on bed. Alone)

HAROLD:

Ah.... This is excellent.

Relaxed, yet somehow productive--

each twitch of the mental apparatus

produceing a word resting on the brink of the lips

like a pleasure tidbit

ready to dance forward into surrounding space

soon filled with such tidbits

substituting, in a certain sense,

for pleasures more corperal perhaps--

CAROL (having appeared)

Alas--

HAROLD: (turns)

No regrets-- please.

CAROL:

I was being an echo.

HAROLD:

Not quite, since feet suffer wonderful replacement

as WORDS trip lightly from the lips, dear Carol,

into the void of greatest pleasure possible.

(She holds out her arms, steps forward, he shrinks back)

No closer, please.

May we think of this tableau, as a personal evolutionary achievement,

since --long ago, when young

I located myself at the mouth of this verbal flow,

and tried, with little success

to flood the world with a source

that seemed inexhaustable to my imagination--

until it became, alas, exhausted

because I hadn’t, til now,

the courage to feel-- well--

wonderful in my emptiness.

Or was it slightly different?

Because until now

I was never “self-locatable” in that emptiness

which was always elsewhere,

myself being separate from that

by a kind of mental mistake

which this bed

now corrects forever.

But alas, who will understand me

as I reach out

this verbal hand--

hoping for someone in the back of my head

to think to myself--

“Hello, I do understand you perfectly, Harold”

and I am content for the moment

as feet suffer wonderful replacement

because WORDS

trip lightly from lips into the void.

as we agree on a new series of definitions

to accomodate my real desire--

surfacing at last

as nothing but itself--

“in vox vocalis” as it were--

re-dancing therefore

with wooden feet no longer--

inside this spinning heart --

pure, like words of ice!

(Pause, looks at Carol)

And she whirls inside herself?

CAROL: (Pause)

I do not dance with Harold

HAROLD:

Hear my voice, of course

and automatically --dance with Harold!.

(she dances)

Which is to say--

“Resolution perfecto” for this problematic bed situation

with an almost DELERIOUS passivity, no longer problametic.

(Stops, leans forward)

She agrees of course?

CAROL:

She never agrees with Harold

(exit)

HAROLD:

Ah, yes. My sweet Carol

Ah yes. My faithful Maurice.

Ah yes. Anyone else at all

without the sou d of my inviusible voice

(Pause: soft music)

-- this will indeed have amazing ramifications.

But before these ramifications, do begin a dance

surrounding this slowly more and more congenial arena,

within which, for a quiet moment

I sink deeper into this comfortable presence

which --

called happily --

word annointed, happily--

voice blessed, happily--

this BED:

public BED:

position BED:

-- in voice- nourished imaginings

does re-populate, made MORE public--

in the same miraculous instant,

becoming even more private.

(Music rises)

In oh so excellent--

Long anticipated dancing--

rendered totally transparent,

by such a voice in full flower--

available to whomever imay be listening,

re-pleasuring all such listening

to re-install some total

SPECTRUM of truth,

inside whatever get's spoken, true or false,

because

listening to this voice,

(Carol and Maurice whirl in, dancing about the room)

--with no thought given to what it speaks--

one is happy at last, dancing

inside a listening

that is a dancing

and a dancing

and a dancing --

Forever and forever and forever and forever and forever!

(Lights fade on the dancing)

THE END

FINAL SCENE: Harold alone. In bed)

HAROLD

How excellent.

Relaxed, yet productive.

Managing to find a way in which

each twitch of the mental apparatus,

comes forward into the real world

with great simplicity and directness.

This position in bed, as powerful as an ikon,

erasable by time, no doubt,

but effective, like a dream,

from the center of which,

I speak to what I take to be the whole world,

from the center of my true being,

so relaxed that the difficulty that is usually there in speaking,

for me at least, is there no longer,

and words. . .trip lightly from my lips into the void,

though I don't really mean to call it a void since. . .

Hello there! -- Is everybody listening?

Receiving each tiny. . diphthong of indeterminate meaning,

Which is to say, that the things I say,

may indeed be of no tremendous interest,

and unconnected to the truth as others see it,

but that's not the important thing;

Because; -- we're about to agree on a new definition of truth.

And I must add before I forget what I'm not likely to forget,

that as of this very minute, surfacing,

my desire to become voice only,

is a nice resolution to this problematic bed situation,

disappearing otherwise,

--that is to say, --as this heretofore, dancable body.

So: the new truth I think I was on the verge of announcing,

The one to which I was convinced you were going to be very sympathetic...

(Smiles, calls)

Maurice?

Anybody else?

(Pause)

Ah. . .this will indeed have ramifications.

But before all the ramifications do emerge and begin dancing in front of our eyes,

and they SHALL dance,

--let me first

for a quiet moment

Just. . . savor this new truth.

And sink, even deeper, into this comfortable presence,

which you and I happily call. . .

Bed.

Public bed ,

Position of bed,

now made, in my imagining. . .

even more public

and at the same time

more private.

(Music rises, he imagines people dancing about the bed)

So one calls--

Ah, hello world!

Attention to this voice only!

And whatever it says, pure enjoyment.

And whatever it speaks-- truth or un-truth the same thing

--So what it makes you feel like. .

is simply --

Hurrah!

Hurrah finally!

There is a voice!

Which means

There is , finally

DANCING!

THE END

FINAL SCENE: Harold alone. In bed)

HAROLD

This is excellent.

I feel relaxed and yet productive.

I've managed to find a way in which each twitch of my mental apparatus, comes forward into the real world with great simplicity and directness.

There is something. . .symbolic about this position in bed.

It will no doubt wear off in time, but for now it's quite effective.

I am speaking to what I take to be the whole world, easily, and from the center of my being.

The difficulty that is usually there in speaking, for me at least, is no longer there, and the words. . .trip lightly from my lips into the void, only I don't really mean to call it a void since. . .there you all are. Receiving each tiny. . diphthong of indeterminate meaning.

Which is to say,

that

WHAT I say may be of no tremendous interest,

and may not even be connected to the truth as you see it,

but that's not the important thing, is it?

In other words, we're about to agree on a new definition of truth.

Oh, I must add before I forget what I'm not likely to forget,

that as of this very minute my desire is surfacing, to become

Nothing but a voice, which is a nice resolution to this problematic bed situation, I'm sure you'll agree?

To disappear otherwise, that is to say,

in all other ways.

So that's the new truth I think I was on the verge of announcing, was I not?

The one to which I was sure you were going to be very sympathetic.

(Smiles, calls)

Maurice?

Anybody else?

(Pause)

Ah. . .this will indeed have ramifications.

But before all the ramifications do emerge and begin dancing in front of our eyes,

and they shall,

let me first

for a quiet moment

Just. . . savor this new truth.

That is to say, just sink even deeper, into this comfortable presence,

which you and I happily call. . .

this bed.

This public bed ,

this position of bed,

which shall now be made, in my imagining. . .

even more public

though at the same time

even more private.

(Music rises, he imagines people dancing about the bed)

Hello, hello, pay attention to my voice only

Everybody Listen to this voice only. Whatever it says

just enjoy whatever that speaks. Find the truth in whatever that speaks. So that whatever is spoken, what you feel like is dancing.

And more dancing. And then. listening to that voice and whatever it speaks, you do no think, no registering at all of what is speaks-- instead, you just keep . . .dancing.

THE END

FINAL SCENE: (Harold on bed. Alone)

HAROLD:

Ah.... This is excellent.

He feels relaxed, yet productive--

as each twitch of the mental apparatus

produces a word resting on the brink of the lips

like a pleasure tidbit.

Perhaps true, alas

that such tidbits substitutue, in a certain sense, for pleasures more corperal--

CAROL (having appeared)

Alas--

HAROLD: (turns)

No regrets-- please.

CAROL:

I was being an echo.

HAROLD (turns, pause)

Your echo was a misunderstanding, my dear.

(She holds out her arms, steps forward, he holds up a hand to stop her)

Forgive me. May we think of this tableau, as a personal evolutionary achievement?

I much prefer this lonely bed, which in fact sucks sufficient energy from the gyrations orbiting it through the evening's total adventures.

Please rest assured that I am rewarded with that happy transmutation into language that bodily withdrawal-- in my case-- releases in order to cocoon me til I bleeds into consciousness itself, ready to re-emerges in faint puffs from the vicinity these agile lips.

It pleases me, dear Carol. Feet suffer wonderful replacedment, because WORDS trip lightly from lips into the void. But I don't really mean to name it void, because there YOU stand, recieving these tiny

dipthongs of indeterminate meaning.

Which is to say

that WHATEVER I say specifically

may be of no great interest, -- may not even be connected to the truth as you see it--

But we're about to agree on a new series of definitions to accomodate my real desire, surfacing at last as nothing but itself--

'in vox vocalis' as it were-- re-dancing voice,

wooden feet,

the heart of ice

--the resolution perfecto of this problematic bed situtaion with its excess of passivity-- you agree of course?

(Carol exits)

Ah. To vanish otherwise, which is to say,

in all other ways.

Perfecto veritas--

exactly the truth I feel myself on the very verge of announcing through this. . .favored organ,

The one to which I am SURE we will all henceforth be highly sympathetic.

(Pause, calls)

My dear Carol?

My beloved Maurice?

Anybody at all?

(Pause: soft music)

Ah-- this will indeed have ramifications.

But before such ramifications begin dancing about this slowly more and more congenial arena, let me for a quiet moment sink deeper into this comfortable presence

which you and I

call happily --

word annointed--

voice blessed--

this BED:

public BED:

position BED:

which now, in voice- nourished imaginings shall re-populate, and make MORE public-- while in the same miraculous instant,

even more private.

(Music rises)

Ah! This is excellent!

Long anticipated dancing

rendered totally transparent,

by this voice in full flower--

available to whoever listens,

re-pleasuring all listening to re-install the total

SPECTRUM of truth,

to whatever get's spoken, true or false,

because what one really experiences,

listening to this voice,

with no thought given to what it speaks--

one is happy at last, dancing

inside a listening

that is a dancing and a dancing and a dancing and a dancing!

(Lifts hands, others sink to floor and he laughs through music)

THE END

FINAL SCENE: (Harold on bed. Alone)

HAROLD:

Ah.... This is excellent.

Relaxed, yet somehow productive--

each twitch of the mental apparatus

produceing a word resting on the brink of the lips

like a pleasure tidbit

ready to dance forward into surrounding space

soon filled with such tidbits

substituting, in a certain sense,

for pleasures more corperal perhaps--

CAROL (having appeared)

Alas--

HAROLD: (turns)

No regrets-- please.

CAROL:

I was being an echo.

HAROLD:

Not quite, since feet suffer wonderful replacement

as WORDS trip lightly from the lips, dear Carol,

into the void of greatest pleasure possible.

(She holds out her arms, steps forward, he shrinks back)

No closer, please.

May we think of this tableau, as a personal evolutionary achievement,

since --long ago, when young

I located myself at the mouth of this verbal flow,

and tried, with little success

to flood the world with a source

that seemed inexhaustable to my imagination--

until it became, alas, exhausted

because I hadn’t, til now,

the courage to feel-- well--

wonderful in my emptiness.

Or was it slightly different?

Because until now

I was never “self-locatable” in that emptiness

which was always elsewhere,

myself being separate from that

by a kind of mental mistake

which this bed

now corrects forever.

But alas, who will understand me

as I reach out

this verbal hand--

hoping for someone in the back of my head

to think to myself--

“Hello, I do understand you perfectly, Harold”

and I am content for the moment

as feet suffer wonderful replacement

because WORDS

trip lightly from lips into the void.

as we agree on a new series of definitions

to accomodate my real desire--

surfacing at last

as nothing but itself--

“in vox vocalis” as it were--

re-dancing therefore

with wooden feet no longer--

inside this spinning heart --

pure, like words of ice!

(Pause, looks at Carol)

And she whirls inside herself?

CAROL: (Pause)

I do not dance with Harold

HAROLD:

Hear my voice, of course

and automatically --dance with Harold!.

(she dances)

Which is to say--

“Resolution perfecto” for this problematic bed situation

with an almost DELERIOUS passivity, no longer problametic.

(Stops, leans forward)

She agrees of course?

CAROL:

She never agrees with Harold

(exit)

HAROLD:

Ah, yes. My sweet Carol

Ah yes. My faithful Maurice.

Ah yes. Anyone else at all

without the sou d of my inviusible voice

(Pause: soft music)

-- this will indeed have amazing ramifications.

But before these ramifications, do begin a dance

surrounding this slowly more and more congenial arena,

within which, for a quiet moment

I sink deeper into this comfortable presence

which --

called happily --

word annointed, happily--

voice blessed, happily--

this BED:

public BED:

position BED:

-- in voice- nourished imaginings

does re-populate, made MORE public--

in the same miraculous instant,

becoming even more private.

(Music rises)

In oh so excellent--

Long anticipated dancing--

rendered totally transparent,

by such a voice in full flower--

available to whomever imay be listening,

re-pleasuring all such listening

to re-install some total

SPECTRUM of truth,

inside whatever get's spoken, true or false,

because

listening to this voice,

(Carol and Maurice whirl in, dancing about the room)

--with no thought given to what it speaks--

one is happy at last, dancing

inside a listening

that is a dancing

and a dancing

and a dancing --

Forever and forever and forever and forever and forever!

(Lights fade on the dancing)

THE END