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Susanna Roxman "Dialogue
in Edinburgh"
ANDREW: Or adoring fans.
DAVID: Yourself and Prue must
experience the same.
ANDREW: We couldn’t claim such
recognition as yours.
DAVID: Prue as a novelist will go very
far. As a musician, you’re a star yourself.
ANDREW: Stardom in a sadly humble
degree.
DAVID: Both of you sparkle, dazzle.
ANDREW: What do you say, another
bottle?
DAVID: Would it be wise?
ANDREW: Well, why not?
DAVID: Your fascinating, sherry-brown
eyes, does she tremble before them?
ANDREW (smugly): Of course she does.
DAVID: But should we drink more?
ANDREW: The night’s a child, only
eleven.
DAVID: All right, as you wish. (To the
waiter): Another of the same! (The waiter bows and exits L.
David to Andrew): I know you’re a Fish, astrologically
speaking. My element is earth.
Let me tell you this: I need your water. If you were
gay,
I’d hug you hard, never let you stray.
ANDREW: Perhaps that third bottle was a
mistake.
DAVID: I quake in my shoes when you
gaze into my eyes or screw yours up like now, truly, as if
you wished to penetrate my soul.
(Andrew raises his eyebrows.)
DAVID: It’s wholly sexy, shakes me to
the core. I’m boring you, I know.
ANDREW: Dave, I think you miss the
vital fact I’m terribly short-sighted: once I kissed the
wrong girl, half hidden by her hair. So much for that
penetration of souls. It’s wholly in your mind. I could
barely tell your face from another’s, that’s the sad truth.
(The waiter brings another wine bottle,
shows them its label, uncorks the bottle, and serves them.
Andrew and David nod their thanks and tackle their drinks.)
DAVID: In a state of grace, that’s what you are, and also
Prue.
ANDREW: True, old friend, but why
aren’t you?
DAVID: It’s way too late.
ANDREW: New days may bring new hope.
DAVID: Or fresh despair.
ANDREW: You’ve had your share of grief,
time to let it go.
DAVID: Andy, no: time for depression,
the midnight chimes.
ANDREW: Some people would be pleased to
get involved with you.
DAVID: But put off by autograph hunters
in a queue.
ANDREW: Someone might be fond of you
for your own sake.
DAVID: Take away world-fame, what could
I give? What can I do but pursue my career?
ANDREW: Prue and I are your friends.
There must be others, too.
DAVID (rising, still holding his
glass): Beware, Andy: when you rise and hit zenith you’ll be
fed with lies or flattery. No one will see you as you
are.
ANDREW: Bar those you already know.
DAVID (turning towards the audience):
At last growing old alone, unable to press blood from any
stone.
ANDREW: Perhaps we’d better leave.
DAVID: It’s all a sieve, fame, a good
name, they pass through, they seep away.
ANDREW: We shouldn’t stay. You need
some sleep.
DAVID: There’s a lot of wine left.
(Sits down again.)
ANDREW: In the bottle, not so much.
You’ve had more than enough. I think I’d better take you
back.
DAVID: (pouring some wine) Just
a wee drink. Perhaps you’ll tuck me in? I couldn’t bear
being on my own.
ANDREW: We’ll just share a taxi to your
hotel door.
DAVID: I always adored you.
ANDREW: Come, that’s enough. (To the
waiter): Please, we need a cab. (The waiter bows and
exits Right.)
ANDREW: You’ll feel better by and by.
DAVID: In my London garden I scan the
sky
on clear nights, watch planets and planes.
Has it occurred to you, my dear friend,
how long the planets have been around
compared to airplanes? Oh, why am I a man?
Had I been a woman, you might have married me.
ANDREW: Quite unlikely. We’d be
friends, like now.
(The waiter approaches them and
indicates that the taxi has arrived. Andrew, using a card,
pays discreetly for the wine.)
DAVID: So this is how our cosy evening ends.
(The men rise slowly, push their chairs back, straighten
their jackets, &c.)
ANDREW: Oh, by the way, I meant to ask you the other day,
would you care to be godfather to our child? You know Prue’s
pregnant.
DAVID (deeply touched): Not in my
wildest dreams could I have visualized an honour as great.
ANDREW (smiling): You’re fated to be
one of the family, as it were.
DAVID: It makes up for a lot. We’ve got
to tip that man.
ANDREW: Give him what you can, I’ve got
no change left.
(They start moving away from the table.
David tips the waiter who smiles and bows.)
ANDREW: (to David) You’ll be all right.
DAVID: (cheerfully) Tonight I’ll
go to bed with my teddy bear.
Perhaps I’ll donate him to your daughter or son. Well, the
bright day’s done.
ANDREW: And we’re for the dark.
DAVID: Let’s go down Princes Street,
past the park.
ANDREW: Princes Gardens? That’s out of
our way.
DAVID: But I like the view, the castle.
ANDREW: Okay.
DAVID: A splendid sight.
ANDREW: Good night, everyone!
(They exit Right. The lights fade.)
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