STANLEY: Geez, how’d ya know?
HAPPY: I got radar or something. Staring directly at her profile: Oooooooo . . . Stanley.
STANLEY: I think that’s for you, Mr. Loman.
HAPPY: Look at that mouth. Oh, God. And the binoculars.
STANLEY: Geez, you got a life, Mr. Loman.
HAPPY: Wait on her.
STANLEY, going to the girl’s table: Would you like a menu, ma’am?
GIRL: I’m expecting someone, but I’d like a—
HAPPY: Why don’t you bring her—excuse me, miss, do you mind? I sell champagne, and I’d like you to try my brand. Bring her a champagne, Stanley.
GIRL: That’s awfully nice of you.
HAPPY: Don’t mention it. It’s all company money. He laughs.
GIRL: That’s a charming product to be selling, isn’t it?
HAPPY: Oh, gets to be like everything else. Selling is selling, y’know.
GIRL: I suppose.
HAPPY: You don’t happen to sell, do you?
GIRL: No, I don’t sell.
HAPPY: Would you object to a compliment from a stranger? You ought to be on a magazine cover.
GIRL, looking at him a little archly: I have been.
Stanley comes in with a glass of champagne.
HAPPY: What’d I say before, Stanley? You see? She’s a cover girl.
STANLEY: Oh, I could see, I could see.
HAPPY, to the Girl: What magazine?
GIRL: Oh, a lot of them. She takes the drink. Thank you.
HAPPY: You know what they say in France, don’t you? “Champagne is the drink of the complexion”—Hya, Biff!
Biff has entered and sits with Happy.
BIFF: Hello, kid. Sorry I’m late.
HAPPY: I just got here. Uh, Miss—?
GIRL: Forsythe.
HAPPY: Miss Forsythe, this is my brother.
BIFF: Is Dad here?
HAPPY: His name is Biff. You might’ve heard of him. Great football player.
GIRL: Really? What team?
HAPPY: Are you familiar with football?
GIRL: No, I’m afraid I’m not.
HAPPY: Biff is quarterback with the New York Giants.
GIRL: Well, that is nice, isn’t it? She drinks.
HAPPY: Good health.
GIRL: I’m happy to meet you.
HAPPY: That’s my name. Hap. It’s really Harold, but at West Point they called me Happy.
GIRL, now really impressed: Oh, I see. How do you do? She turns her profile.
BIFF: Isn’t Dad coming?
HAPPY: You want her?
BIFF: Oh, I could never make that.
HAPPY: I remember the time that idea would never come into your head. Where’s the old confidence, Biff?
BIFF: I just saw Oliver—
HAPPY: Wait a minute. I’ve got to see that old confidence again. Do you want her? She’s on call.
BIFF: Oh, no. He turns to look at the Girl.
HAPPY: I’m telling you. Watch this. Turning to the Girl: Honey? She turns to him. Are you busy?
GIRL: Well, I am . . . but I could make a phone call.
HAPPY: Do that, will you, honey? And see if you can get a friend. We’ll be here for a while. Biff is one of the greatest football players in the country.
GIRL, standing up: Well, I’m certainly happy to meet you.
HAPPY: Come back soon.
GIRL: I’ll try.
HAPPY: Don’t try, honey, try hard.
The Girl exits. Stanley follows, shaking his head in bewildered admiration.
HAPPY: Isn’t that a shame now? A beautiful girl like that? That’s why I can’t get married. There’s not a good woman in a thousand. New York is loaded with them, kid!
BIFF: Hap, look—
HAPPY: I told you she was on call!
BIFF, strangely unnerved: Cut it out, will ya? I want to say something to you.
HAPPY: Did you see Oliver?
BIFF: I saw him all right. Now look, I want to tell Dad a couple of things and I want you to help me.
HAPPY: What? Is he going to back you?
BIFF: Are you crazy? You’re out of your goddam head, you know that?
HAPPY: Why? What happened?
BIFF, breathlessly: I did a terrible thing today, Hap. It’s been the strangest day I ever went through. I’m all numb, I swear.
HAPPY: You mean he wouldn’t see you?
BIFF: Well, I waited six hours for him, see? All day. Kept sending my name in. Even tried to date his secretary so she’d get me to him, but no soap.
HAPPY: Because you’re not showin’ the old confidence, Biff. He remembered you, didn’t he?
BIFF, stopping Happy with a gesture: Finally, about five o’clock, he comes out. Didn’t remember who I was or anything. I felt like such an idiot, Hap.
HAPPY: Did you tell him my Florida idea?
BIFF: He walked away. I saw him for one minute. I got so mad I could’ve torn the walls down! How the hell did I ever get the idea I was a salesman there? I even believed myself that I’d been a salesman for him! And then he gave me one look and—I realized what a ridiculous lie my whole life has been. We’ve been talking in a dream for fifteen years. I was a shipping clerk.
HAPPY: What’d you do?
BIFF, with great tension and wonder: Well, he left, see. And the secretary went out. I was all alone in the waiting-room. I don’t know what came over me, Hap. The next thing I know I’m in his office—paneled walls, everything. I can’t explain it. I—Hap, I took his fountain pen.
HAPPY: Geez, did he catch you?
BIFF: I ran out. I ran down all eleven flights. I ran and ran and ran.
HAPPY: That was an awful dumb—what’d you do that for?
BIFF, agonized: I don’t know, I just—wanted to take something, I don’t know. You gotta help me, Hap, I’m gonna tell Pop.
HAPPY: You crazy? What for?
BIFF: Hap, he’s got to understand that I’m not the man somebody lends that kind of money to. He thinks I’ve been spiting him all these years and it’s eating him up.
HAPPY: That’s just it. You tell him something nice.
BIFF: I can’t.
HAPPY: Say you got a lunch date with Oliver tomorrow.
BIFF: So what do I do tomorrow?
HAPPY: You leave the house tomorrow and come back at night and say Oliver is thinking it over. And he thinks it over for a couple of weeks, and gradually it fades away and nobody’s the worse.
BIFF: But it’ll go on for ever!
HAPPY: Dad is never so happy as when he’s looking forward to something!
Willy enters.
HAPPY: Hello, scout!
WILLY: Gee, I haven’t been here in years!
Stanley has followed Willy in and sets a chair for him. Stanley starts off but Happy stops him.
HAPPY: Stanley!
Stanley stands by, waiting for an order.
BIFF, going to Willy with guilt, as to an invalid: Sit down, Pop. You want a drink?
WILLY: Sure, I don’t mind.
BIFF: Let’s get a load on.
WILLY: You look worried.
BIFF: N-no. To Stanley: Scotch all around. Make it doubles.
STANLEY: Doubles, right. He goes.
WILLY: You had a couple already, didn’t you?
BIFF: Just a couple, yeah.
WILLY: Well, what happened, boy? Nodding affirmatively, with a smile Everything go all right?
BIFF, takes a breath, then reaches out and grasps Willy’s hand: Pal . . . He is smiling bravely, and Willy is smiling too. I had an experience today.
HAPPY: Terrific, Pop.
WILLY: That so? What happened?
BIFF, high, slightly alcoholic, above the ear
th: I’m going to tell you everything from first to last. It’s been a strange day. Silence. He looks around, composes himself as best he can, but his breath keeps breaking the rhythm of his voice. I had to wait quite a while for him, and—
WILLY: Oliver?
BIFF: Yeah, Oliver. All day, as a matter of cold fact. And a lot of—instances—facts, Pop, facts about my life came back to me. Who was it, Pop? Who ever said I was a salesman with Oliver?
WILLY: Well, you were.
BIFF: No, Dad, I was a shipping clerk.
WILLY: But you were practically—
BIFF, with determination: Dad, I don’t know who said it first, but I was never a salesman for Bill Oliver.
WILLY: What’re you talking about?
BIFF: Let’s hold on to the facts tonight, Pop. We’re not going to get anywhere bullin’ around. I was a shipping clerk.
WILLY, angrily: All right, now listen to me—
BIFF: Why don’t you let me finish?
WILLY: I’m not interested in stories about the past or any crap of that kind because the woods are burning, boys, you understand? There’s a big blaze going on all around. I was fired today.
BIFF, shocked: How could you be?
WILLY: I was fired, and I’m looking for a little good news to tell your mother, because the woman has waited and the woman has suffered. The gist of it is that I haven’t got a story left in my head, Biff. So don’t give me a lecture about facts and aspects. I am not interested. Now what’ve you got to say to me?
Stanley enters with three drinks. They wait until he leaves.
WILLY: Did you see Oliver?
BIFF: Jesus, Dad!
WILLY: You mean you didn’t go up there?
HAPPY: Sure he went up there.
BIFF: I did. I—saw him. How could they fire you?
WILLY, on the edge of his chair: What kind of a welcome did he give you?
BIFF: He won’t even let you work on commission?
WILLY: I’m out! Driving: So tell me, he gave you a warm welcome?
HAPPY: Sure, Pop, sure!
BIFF, driven: Well, it was kind of—
WILLY: I was wondering if he’d remember you. To Happy: Imagine, man doesn’t see him for ten, twelve years and gives him that kind of a welcome!
HAPPY: Damn right!
BIFF, trying to return to the offensive: Pop, look—
WILLY: You know why he remembered you, don’t you? Because you impressed him in those days.
BIFF: Let’s talk quietly and get this down to the facts, huh?
WILLY, as though Biff had been interrupting: Well, what happened? It’s great news, Biff. Did he take you into his office or’d you talk in the waiting-room?
BIFF: Well, he came in, see, and—
WILLY, with a big smile: What’d he say? Betcha he threw his arm around you.
BIFF: Well, he kinda—
WILLY: He’s a fine man. To Happy: Very hard man to see, y’know.
HAPPY, agreeing: Oh, I know.
WILLY, to Biff: Is that where you had the drinks?
BIFF: Yeah, he gave me a couple of—no, no!
HAPPY, cutting in: He told him my Florida idea.
WILLY: Don’t interrupt. To Biff: How’d he react to the Florida idea?
BIFF: Dad, will you give me a minute to explain?
WILLY: I’ve been waiting for you to explain since I sat down here! What happened? He took you into his office and what?
BIFF: Well—I talked. And—and he listened, see.
WILLY: Famous for the way he listens, y’know. What was his answer?
BIFF: His answer was— He breaks off, suddenly angry. Dad, you’re not letting me tell you what I want to tell you!
WILLY, accusing, angered: You didn’t see him, did you?
BIFF: I did see him!
WILLY: What’d you insult him or something? You insulted him, didn’t you?
BIFF: Listen, will you let me out of it, will you just let me out of it!
HAPPY: What the hell!
WILLY: Tell me what happened!
BIFF, to Happy: I can’t talk to him!
A single trumpet note jars the ear. The light of green leaves stains the house, which holds the air of night and a dream. Young Bernard enters and knocks on the door of the house.
YOUNG BERNARD, frantically: Mrs. Loman, Mrs. Loman!
HAPPY: Tell him what happened!
BIFF, to Happy: Shut up and leave me alone!
WILLY: No, no! You had to go and flunk math!
BIFF: What math? What’re you talking about?
YOUNG BERNARD: Mrs. Loman, Mrs. Loman!
Linda appears in the house, as of old.
WILLY, wildly: Math, math, math!
BIFF: Take it easy, Pop!
YOUNG BERNARD: Mrs. Loman!
WILLY, furiously: If you hadn’t flunked you’d’ve been set by now!
BIFF: Now, look, I’m gonna tell you what happened, and you’re going to listen to me.
YOUNG BERNARD: Mrs. Loman!
BIFF: I waited six hours—
HAPPY: What the hell are you saying?
BIFF: I kept sending in my name but he wouldn’t see me. So finally he . . . He continues unheard as light fades low on the restaurant.
YOUNG BERNARD: Biff flunked math!
LINDA: No!
YOUNG BERNARD: Birnbaum flunked him! They won’t graduate him!
LINDA: But they have to. He’s gotta go to the university. Where is he? Biff! Biff!
YOUNG BERNARD: No, he left. He went to Grand Central.
LINDA: Grand—You mean he went to Boston!
YOUNG BERNARD: Is Uncle Willy in Boston?
LINDA: Oh, maybe Willy can talk to the teacher. Oh, the poor, poor boy!
BIFF, at the table, now audible, holding up a gold fountain pen: . . . so I’m washed up with Oliver, you understand? Are you listening to me?
WILLY, at a loss: Yeah, sure. If you hadn’t flunked—
BIFF: Flunked what? What’re you talking about?
WILLY: Don’t blame everything on me! I didn’t flunk math—you did! What pen?
HAPPY: That was awful dumb, Biff, a pen like that is worth—
WILLY, seeing the pen for the first time: You took Oliver’s pen?
BIFF, weakening: Dad, I just explained it to you.
WILLY: You stole Bill Oliver’s fountain pen!
BIFF: I didn’t exactly steal it! That’s just what I’ve been explaining to you!
HAPPY: He had it in his hand and just then Oliver walked in, so he got nervous and stuck it in his pocket!
WILLY: My God, Biff!
BIFF: I never intended to do it, Dad!
OPERATOR’S VOICE: Standish Arms, good evening!
WILLY shouting: I’m not in my room!
BIFF, frightened: Dad, what’s the matter? He and Happy stand up.
OPERATOR: Ringing Mr. Loman for you!
WILLY: I’m not there, stop it!
BIFF, horrified, gets down on one knee before Willy: Dad, I’ll make good, I’ll make good. Willy tries to get to his feet. Biff holds him down. Sit down now.
WILLY: No, you’re no good, you’re no good for anything.
BIFF: I am, Dad, I’ll find something else, you understand? Now don’t worry about anything. He holds up Willy’s face. Talk to me, Dad.
OPERATOR: Mr. Loman does not answer. Shall I page him?
WILLY, attempting to stand, as though to rush and silence the Operator: No, no, no!
HAPPY: He’ll strike something, Pop.
WILLY: No, no . . .
BIFF, desperately, standing over Willy: Pop, listen! Listen to me! I’m telling you something good. Oliver talked to his partner ab
out the Florida idea. You listening? He—he talked to his partner, and he came to me . . . I’m going to be all right, you hear? Dad, listen to me, he said it was just a question of the amount!
WILLY: Then you . . . got it?
HAPPY: He’s gonna be terrific, Pop!
WILLY, trying to stand: Then you got it, haven’t you? You got it! You got it!
BIFF, agonized, holds Willy down: No, no. Look, Pop. I’m supposed to have lunch with them tomorrow. I’m just telling you this so you’ll know that I can still make an impression, Pop. And I’ll make good somewhere, but I can’t go tomorrow, see?
WILLY: Why not? You simply—
BIFF: But the pen, Pop!
WILLY: You give it to him and tell him it was an oversight!
HAPPY: Sure, have lunch tomorrow!
BIFF: I can’t say that—
WILLY: You were doing a crossword puzzle and accidentally used his pen!
BIFF: Listen, kid, I took those balls years ago, now I walk in with his fountain pen? That clinches it, don’t you see? I can’t face him like that! I’ll try elsewhere.
PAGE’S VOICE: Paging Mr. Loman!
WILLY: Don’t you want to be anything?
BIFF: Pop, how can I go back?
WILLY: You don’t want to be anything, is that what’s behind it?
BIFF, now angry at Willy for not crediting his sympathy: Don’t take it that way! You think it was easy walking into that office after what I’d done to him? A team of horses couldn’t have dragged me back to Bill Oliver!
WILLY: Then why’d you go?
BIFF: Why did I go? Why did I go! Look at you! Look at what’s become of you!
Off left, The Woman laughs.
WILLY: Biff, you’re going to go to that lunch tomorrow, or—
BIFF: I can’t go. I’ve got no appointment!
HAPPY: Biff, for . . . !
WILLY: Are you spiting me?
BIFF: Don’t take it that way! Goddammit!
WILLY, strikes Biff and falters away from the table: You rotten little louse! Are you spiting me?
THE WOMAN: Someone’s at the door, Willy!
BIFF: I’m no good, can’t you see what I am?
HAPPY, separating them: Hey, you’re in a restaurant! Now cut it out, both of you! The girls enter. Hello, girls, sit down.
The Woman laughs, off left.
MISS FORSYTHE: I guess we might as well. This is Letta.
THE WOMAN: Willy, are you going to wake up?
BIFF, ignoring Willy: How’re ya, miss, sit down. What do you drink?