The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia?: Broadway Edition Read online

  ALSO BY EDWARD ALBEE

  The Zoo Story

  The Death of Bessie Smith

  The Sandbox

  Fam and Yam

  The American Dream

  Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

  The Ballad of the Sad Café

  Tiny Alice

  Malcolm

  A Delicate Balance

  Everything in the Garden

  Box and Quotations from Mao Tse-Tung

  All Over

  Seascape

  Listening

  Counting the Ways

  The Lady from Dubuque

  The Man Who Had Three Arms

  Marriage Play

  Finding the Sun

  Three Tall Women

  Fragments—A Concerto Grosso

  The Play about the Baby

  Occupant

  CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that performance of THE GOAT OR WHO IS SYLVIA? is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention, the Universal Copyright Convention, the Berne Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional/amateur stage rights, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as CD-ROM, CD-I, DVD, information storage and retrieval systems and photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed upon the matter of readings, permission for which must be secured from the Author’s agent in writing.

  The stage performance rights in THE GOAT OR WHO IS SYLVIA? (other than first class rights) are controlled exclusively by Dramatists Play Service, Inc., 440 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10016.

  Inquiries concerning all other rights should be addressed to William Morris Agency, 1325 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10019. Attn: George Lane

  Copyright

  First published in paperback in the United States in 2005 by

  The Overlook Press, Peter Mayer Publishers, Inc., New York, NY

  NEW YORK:

  141 Wooster Street

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  Copyright © 2000 by Edward Albee

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

  ISBN 978-1-4683-0752-8

  For Liz McCann

  —because

  Contents

  Also by Edward Albee

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Scene One

  Scene Two

  Scene Three

  The Goat had its world premiere in New York City on March 10, 2002, at the Golden Theatre, produced by Elizabeth Ireland McCann, Daryl Roth, Carole Shorenstein Hays, Terry Allen Kramer, Scott Rudin, Bob Boyett, Scott Nederlander, and Sine/ZPI. It was directed by David Esbjornson, with the following cast:

  Stevie

  Mercedes Ruehl

  Martin

  Bill Pullman

  Ross

  Stephen Rowe

  Billy

  Jeffrey Carlson

  The scenic design was by John Arnone, costume design by Elizabeth Hope Clancy, lighting design by Kenneth Posner, and sound design by Mark Bennett. The production stage manager was Erica Schwartz. The general manager was Joey Parnes. The company manager was Elizabeth Blitzer. The casting was done by Bernard Telsey Casting. The press representative was Sam Rudy of Shirley Herz Associates.

  On September 13, 2002, the roles of Stevie and Martin were taken over by Sally Field and Bill Irwin, respectively.

  Scene One

  (The living room)

  (STEVIE onstage, arranging flowers)

  STEVIE

  (Calling offstage) What time are they coming? (No response) Martin? What time are they coming?

  MARTIN

  (Offstage) What? (Entering) What?

  STEVIE

  (A little smile; a slowish statement) What … time … are … they … coming.

  MARTIN

  Who? (Recalling) Oh! Oh. (Looks at watch) Soon; very soon. Why can’t I remember anything?

  STEVIE

  (Finishing flowers) Why can’t you remember?

  MARTIN

  Anything; nothing; can’t remember a thing. This morning—so far!—I couldn’t remember where I’d put the new head for the razor; I couldn’t recall Ross’s son’s name—still can’t; two cards in my jacket make no sense to me whatever, and I’m not sure I know why I came in here.

  STEVIE

  Todd.

  MARTIN

  What?

  STEVIE

  Ross’s son is called Todd.

  MARTIN

  (Slaps his forehead) Right! Why the flowers?

  STEVIE

  To brighten up the corner …

  MARTIN

  … where you are? Where I am?

  STEVIE

  … where you’ll probably be sitting, to make the cameras happy.

  MARTIN

  (Smelling the flowers) What are they?

  STEVIE

  Cameras?

  MARTIN

  No; these.

  STEVIE

  Ranunculus. I (Then) I: ranunculi.

  MARTIN

  Pretty. Why don’t they smell?

  STEVIE

  They’re secretive; probably too subtle for your forgetful nose.

  MARTIN

  (Shakes his head, mock concern) Every sense going! Taste next! Touch; hearing. Hah! Hearing!

  STEVIE

  What?

  MARTIN

  What?

  STEVIE

  And to think you’re only fifty. Did you find it?

  MARTIN

  What?

  STEVIE

  The new head for the razor.

  MARTIN

  Right! A new head! I’ll need that next—the whole thing.

  STEVIE

  Why did you want to remember Todd’s name?

  MARTIN

  Well, to begin with, I shouldn’t be forgetting it, and when Ross shows up and he asks about Billy I can’t say “He’s fine; how’s … you know … your son …”

  STEVIE

  Todd.

  MARTIN

  Todd. “How’s old Todd?”

  STEVIE

  Young Todd.

  MARTIN

  Yes. It’s the little slips.

  STEVIE

  I wouldn’t worry about it. Are you going to offer them stuff? Coffee? Beer?

  MARTIN

  (Preoccupied) Probably. Do you think it means anything?

  STEVIE

  I don’t know what “it” is.

  MARTIN

  That I can’t remember anything.

  STEVIE

  Probably not: you have too much to remember, that’s all. You could go in for a checkup … if you can remember our doctor’s name.

  MARTIN

  (Nailing it) Percy!
<
br />   STEVIE

  Right!

  MARTIN

  (To himself) Who could forget that? Nobody has a doctor named Percy. (To STEVIE) What’s the matter with me?

  STEVIE

  You’re fifty.

  MARTIN

  No; more than that.

  STEVIE

  The old foreboding? The sense that everything going right is a sure sign that everything’s going wrong, of all the awful to come? All that?

  MARTIN

  (Rueful) Probably. Why did I come in here?

  STEVIE

  I heard you in the hall; I called you.

  MARTIN

  Aha.

  STEVIE

  What’s my name?

  MARTIN

  Pardon?

  STEVIE

  Who am I? Who am I?

  MARTIN

  (Acted) You’re the love of my life, the mother of my handsome and worrisome son, my playmate, my cook, my bottlewasher. Do you?

  STEVIE

  What?

  MARTIN

  Wash my bottles?

  STEVIE

  (Puzzles it) Not as a habit. I may have—washed one of your bottles. Do you have bottles?

  MARTIN

  Everyone has bottles.

  STEVIE

  Right. But what’s my name?

  MARTIN

  (Pretending confusion) Uh … Stevie?

  STEVIE

  Good. Will this be a long one?

  MARTIN

  A long what?

  STEVIE

  Interview.

  MARTIN

  The usual, I guess. Ross said it wasn’t going to be a feature—sort of a catch-up.

  STEVIE

  On your fiftieth.

  MARTIN

  (Nods) On my fiftieth. I wonder if I should tell him that my mind’s going? If I can remember.

  STEVIE

  (Laughs; hugs him from behind) Your mind’s not going.

  MARTIN

  My what?

  STEVIE

  Your mind, darling; it’s not going … anywhere.

  MARTIN

  (Serious) Am I too young for Alzheimer’s?

  STEVIE

  Probably. Isn’t it nice to be too young for something?

  MARTIN

  (Mind elsewhere) Um-hum.

  STEVIE

  The joke is, if you can remember what it’s called you don’t have it.

  MARTIN

  Have what?

  STEVIE

  Alz … (they both laugh; he kisses her forehead) Oh, you know how to turn a girl on! Forehead kisses! (Sniffs him) Where have you been?

  MARTIN

  (Releases her; preoccupied) What time are they coming?

  STEVIE

  Soon, you said; very soon.

  MARTIN

  I did? Good.

  STEVIE

  Did you find it?

  MARTIN

  What?

  STEVIE

  The head for your razor.

  MARTIN

  No; it’s around somewhere. (Fishes in a pocket, brings out cards) But these! Now these! What the hell are these!? “Basic Services, Limited.” Basic Services, Limited?? Limited to what!? (The other card) “Clarissa Atherton.” (Shrugs) Clarissa Atherton? No number, no … internet thing? Clarissa Atherton?

  STEVIE

  Basic services? Clarissa Atherton, basic services?

  MARTIN

  Hm? Every time someone gives me one of these, I know I’m supposed to give them one back, and I don’t have them. It’s embarrassing.

  STEVIE

  I’ve told you to have them made … cards.

  MARTIN

  I don’t want to.

  STEVIE

  Then don’t. Who is she?

  MARTIN

  Who?

  STEVIE

  Clarissa Atherton, basic services. Does she smell funny?

  MARTIN

  I don’t know. (Afterthought) I don’t know who she is, as far as I know. Where were we this week?

  STEVIE

  (Overly casual; stretches) Oh, it doesn’t matter sweetie. If you’re seeing this Atherton woman, this … dominatrix … who smells funny …

  MARTIN

  How could I be seeing her—whoever she is? There’s nothing on the card. Dominatrix!?

  STEVIE

  Why not?

  MARTIN

  Maybe you know things I don’t.

  STEVIE

  Maybe.

  MARTIN

  And I probably know one or two things you don’t.

  STEVIE

  It evens out.

  MARTIN

  Yes. Do I look OK?

  STEVIE

  For the TV? Yes.

  MARTIN

  Yes. (Turning) Really?

  STEVIE

  I said: yes; fine. (Indicates) The old prep school tie?

  MARTIN

  (Genuine, as he looks) Is it? Oh, yeah; so it is.

  STEVIE

  (Not letting him have it) No one puts on their prep school tie by accident. No one.

  MARTIN

  (Considers) What if you can’t remember that’s what it is?

  STEVIE

  No one!! If you do get Alzheimer’s, and you get to the stage you don’t know who I am, who Billy is, who you are, for that matter …

  MARTIN

  Billy?

  STEVIE

  (Laughs) Stop it! When you get to the point you can’t remember anything, someone will hand you that (indicates his tie) and you’ll look at it and you’ll say (terrible imitation of aged man) “Ahhhhh! My prep school tie! My prep school tie!”

  (They chuckle; the doorbell rings/chimes)

  MARTIN

  Ah! Doom time!

  STEVIE

  (Quite matter of fact) If you are seeing that woman, I think we’d better talk about it.

  MARTIN

  (Stops. Long pause; matter of fact) If I were … we would.

  STEVIE

  (As offhand as possible) If not the dominatrix, then some blonde half your age, some … chippie, as they used to call them …

  MARTIN

  … or, worst of all, someone just like you? As bright; as resourceful; as intrepid; … merely … new?

  STEVIE

  (Warm smile; shake of head) You win ’em all, don’t you.

  MARTIN

  (Same smile) Enough.

  (Door again. The next several speeches are done in a greatly exaggerated Noel Coward manner: English accents, flamboyant gestures)

  STEVIE

  Something’s going on, isn’t it!?

  MARTIN

  Yes! I’ve fallen in love!

  STEVIE

  I knew it!

  MARTIN

  Hopelessly!

  STEVIE

  I knew it!

  MARTIN

  I fought against it!

  STEVIE

  Oh, you poor darling!

  MARTIN

  Fought hard!

  STEVIE

  I suppose you’d better tell me!

  MARTIN

  I can’t! I can’t!

  STEVIE

  Tell me! Tell me!

  MARTIN

  Her name is Sylvia!

  STEVIE

  Sylvia? Who is Sylvia?

  MARTIN

  She’s a goat; Sylvia is a goat! (Acting manner dropped; normal tone now; serious, flat) She’s a goat.

  STEVIE

  (Long pause; she stares, finally smiles. She giggles, chortles, moves toward the hall; normal tone) You’re too much! (Exits)

  MARTIN

  I am? (Shrugs; to himself) You try to tell them; you try to be honest. What do they do? They laugh at you. (Imitation) “You’re too much!” (Thinks about it) I suppose I am.

  ROSS

  Hey honey.

  STEVIE

  Hi Ross. (ROSS enters with STEVIE)

  ROSS

  Hello there, old man!

  MARTIN

 
I’m fifty!

  ROSS

  It’s a term of endearment. Nice flowers.

  MARTIN

  It is?

  ROSS

  What? What is?

  MARTIN

  “Hello there, old man.” Ranunculi.

  ROSS

  Pardon?

  STEVIE

  The proper plural of ranunculus—the flowers, according to old Martin here.

  MARTIN

  Some say ranunculuses, but that sounds wrong, even though it’s probably perfectly acceptable.

  ROSS

  (Not interested) Aha! Let’s move that chair over to the … whatever they are … the flowers. (To MARTIN) Are you happy in that chair?

  MARTIN

  Am I happy in it? I don’t even know if I’ve ever sat in it. (To STEVIE) Have I? Have I ever sat in it?

  STEVIE

  You just did, and you sat in it the last time Ross did the program with you.

  ROSS

  That’s right!

  MARTIN

  Yes … but was I happy? Did I sit there and did contentment bathe me in its warm light?

  ROSS

  You got me, fella.

  STEVIE

  Yes; contentment fell; you sat there and I watched it bathe you in its warm light. I’ve got to go.

  MARTIN

  Where are you going?

  STEVIE

  (No information) Out.

  MARTIN

  Are we in tonight?

  STEVIE

  Yes. I think Billy’s going out.

  MARTIN

  Naturally!

  STEVIE

  We’re in. (Glee) TV time! I’m getting my hair done, and then I thought I’d stop by the feed store. (Exits, giggling)