Currently reading : Endgame, by Beckett, to Adrian.
CLOV: Why this face, day after day?
HAMM: Routine. One never knows. (Pause.) Last night I saw inside my breast. There was a big sore.
CLOV: Pah! You saw your heart.
HAMM: No, it was living. (Pause. Anguished.) Clov!
HAMM: What’s happening?
CLOV: Something is taking its course.
CLOVE: (impatiently). What is it?
HAMM: We’re not beginning to…to…mean something?
CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! (Brief laugh.) Ah that’s a good one!
HAMM: I wonder. (Pause.) Imagine if a rational being came back to earth, wouldn’t he be liable to get ideas into his head if he observed us long enough. (Voice of rational being.) Ah, good, now I see what it is, yes, now I understand what they’re at! (Clov starts, drops the telescope and begins to scratch his belly with both hands. Normal voice.) And without going to far as that, we ourselves… (with emotion)… we ourselves…at certain moments…(Vehemently.) To think perhaps it won’t all have been for nothing!
CLOV: (anguished, scratching himself). I have a flea!
HAMM: A flea! Are there still fleas?
CLOV: On me there’s one. (Scratching.) Unless it’s a crablouse.
HAMM: (very perturbed). But humanity might start from there all over again! Catch him, for the love of God!
CLOVE: I’ll go and get the powder.
HAMM: A flea! This is awful! What a day!
Enter Clov with a sprinkling-tin.
CLOV: I’m back again, with the insecticide.
HAMM: Let him have it!
Clov loosens the top of his trousers, pulls it forward and shakes powder into the aperture. He stoops, looks, waits, starts, frenziedly shakes more powder, stoops, looks, waits.
CLOV: The bastard!
HAMM: Did you get him?
CLOV: Looks like it. (He drops the tin and adjusts his trousers.)
Unless his laying doggo.
HAMM: Laying! Lying you mean. Unless he’s lying doggo.
CLOV: Ah? One says lying? One doesn’t say laying?
HAMM: Use your head, can’t you. If he was laying we’d be bitched.
CLOV: Ah. (Pause.) What about that pee?
HAMM: I’m having it.
CLOV: Ah that’s the spirit, that’s the spirit!