Howard Barker: Plays Nine. Howard Barker

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Howard Barker: Plays Nine - Howard Barker

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      WARDROBE: I’m not mad / Thrash /

      THRASH: I know you’re not /

      WARDROBE: And I assert that / knowing full well / the truly mad / rarely admit to it /

      (THRASH goes to leave.)

      AND SAY A VIOLIN WOULD BE NICE /

      (She shakes her head, and goes out. WARDROBE is still. The wind blows. He addresses BIBLE, now stiff on the floor.)

      When I said you were doomed / did I know the word would kill you? /

      (He seems to wait for a reply.)

      Yes / I knew / and still I said it /

      (He sits on the bed.)

      We could not live / the two of us / and if one of us must perish / far better that one is you / I think you know that / I think / whatever resentment you might have felt / or still feel / Bible / even as I slew you with that word / you knew / your poetry did not entitle you to linger / and lingering / bring me down too / I think / learning of your death / the Emperor will /

      (He stops. He laughs. He jumps up.)

      Now / that’s a sign of madness / ha /

      (He goes to BIBLE.)

      To claim / to dare / to even imagine / in a fit of recklessness / what the Emperor might do / ha /

      (He swiftly kneels beside BIBLE’s corpse and arranges it, laying the hands over his chest, adjusting the head.)

      MADNESS / SURELY / MADNESS / HOO / HOO / HOO /

      (He stops abruptly.)

      But certainly he will do something / or / to express it with the exactitude that / dear Bible / because of your sacrifice / is your due / he cannot do nothing /

      (He presses his fingers together.)

      And that is the single aspect of the Imperial will which / when all else appears wild / fluctuating / arbitrary / is fixed / and is a law / for the Emperor / he also labours under a servitude /

      (As he develops his thesis, WARDROBE becomes more passionate.)

      THEY MAY NOT NOT / THAT IS THE CURSE LAID ON OUR MASTERS / ALWAYS THEY MUST DO /

      (WARDROBE’s satisfaction in elaborating his insight is cut off by a sense of some swift movement behind him as SISI, naked and gasping plunges onto the canvas bed he so recently vacated and lies there shivering. WARDROBE does not turn his head to ascertain the identity of the visitor.)

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