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BECKETT: Why, certainly. Being myself a writer, I’m familiar with the pair of you and have respect for your accomplishments. You, Mr. Clare, especially. In my day, you’re remembered as the Peasant Poet, as perhaps the greatest lyric voice that England ever entertained and treated so unfairly, what with dying in the madhouse and the rest of it. [A pause.] You were aware of that, the dying in a madhouse? I hope I’ve not been insensitive in breaking it to you like that.
JOHN CLARE: Oh, I already knew about it. I was there around that time. But tell me, is my darling wife remembered also? Mary Clare, who once was Mary Jo
yce?
BECKETT: [BECKETT regards CLARE with a serious and searching look.] Ah, yes. Your first wife. Yes, yes, it’s a well-known story, still discussed in literary circles.
JOHN CLARE: Then I’m glad. I should be sorry if I were remembered only for the madness.
JOHN BUNYAN: [To BECKETT.] You said that you were a writer also. Would yours be a name that we might know?
BECKETT: I shouldn’t think that’s likely. You’d both have been dead a while before I came along. I’m Samuel Beckett. You can call me Sam if I might know the pair of you as John. This is Northampton, isn’t it? The portico of All Saints Church?
JOHN BUNYAN: I meant to ask what you were doing here. Both Mr. Clare here and myself were born nearby and so often had business here, while from your voice I’d guess that you’re an Irishman. What is it brings you this way, either in posterity or, as you would prefer to have it, in your dreams?
BECKETT: Well, now, in the first instance that would be the cricket, and then later on it was to see a woman.
JOHN BUNYAN: Cricket?
JOHN CLARE: Oh, I’m well acquainted with the ins and outs of it. You ought to see it!
BECKETT: Sure, I played against Northampton at the County Ground. We stayed at the hotel next to the pitch, and on the night after the match my team mates were all of a mind to go out in pursuit of drink and prostitutes, the both of which this town has in abundance. I myself was more inclined to spend the evening in the company of old Northampton’s Gothic churches, which are equally profuse. I would imagine that it is the memory of that night which brings me back here in my dreams, though I’ll admit that you yourselves provide a novel element.
HUSBAND: All right! All right, I did it. Does that make you happy?
WIFE: [Coldly, after a pause.] Did it make you happy?
HUSBAND: [Defiantly, after a moment of deliberation.] Yes! Yes, it made me happy! It was wonderful and I was happier than I’ve ever been. [Less confidently, following a pause.] At least to start with.
BECKETT: What’s all this that’s going on? [BUNYAN and CLARE glance at each other, then reluctantly stand up from their stone alcoves and walk slowly across to join BECKETT near the quarrelling couple.]
JOHN CLARE: We’re not entirely sure ourselves. If I were of a kind to make a wager, I’d suppose them to be quarrelling about some manner of an infidelity.
WIFE: And when was that?
HUSBAND: What? When was what?
WIFE: You said “At least to start with”. When was it you started?
HUSBAND: Does it matter?
WIFE: Oh, you know it matters. You know very well it matters, with the goings on and when they started. Look me in the eye and tell me, now. When was it?
HUSBAND: [Uncomfortably.] Well, it was some time ago.
WIFE: Some time ago. How much? Was it two years ago?
HUSBAND: I don’t remember. [After a pause.] No. It was longer ago than that.
WIFE: You filthy thing. You filthy creature. How old? How old was she when you started?
HUSBAND: [Wretchedly.] You know I’m no good with birthdays. [The WIFE looks at her HUSBAND in anger and disgust before they both once more lapse into silence.]
BECKETT: This looks very much to me as if the infidelity was with a younger woman. A young girl, you might say.
JOHN BUNYAN: And would that, in your time, make an awful difference to the matter? Are the infidelity and the adultery not by themselves sufficient to account for their unhappy state?
BECKETT: That would depend upon how young the other party was, exactly. There are different customs these days than were in your own. They have a thing now that they call “age of consent” and if you mess about with it you’re sure to be in trouble.
