Pirandello's Henry IV by Luigi Pirandello, Tom Stoppard Read Free Book Online Page B

madman!
    LANDOLF , HAROLD , & ORDULF    Eh?—What?—What’s he—?
    HENRY    Well, I’m sick of this! Enough! You’re all getting on my tits! My God, the nerve of that woman!—showing up here with her lover! With that air of stooping to this charade out of the goodness of their hearts!—so as not to make even madder a poor wretch already shut off from the world, from life! Well, who else would put up with that kind of persecution? These are people who every living moment expect everyone else to be how they see them!—oh, but this can’t be persecution!—not at all!—it’s only their mode of thinking, living, feeling—each to his own! And you to yours, right? Of course! But what is yours? To be sheep!—feeble, flock-driven . . . and they make the most of that, they have you seeing and thinking and feeling the same as them. Or so they like to think. Because, when all’s said and done, what do they do it with? Words, words, words. Simple words which anyone can make mean whatever they like. That’s what’s called public opinion! God help anyone who finds the public’s got a word for him . . . “crazy,” or, I don’t know, “imbecile”? Tell me something. Would you be so calm if you knew that there are people out there determined to make the world see you the way they want you to be seen?—to force their view of you and their valuation of you on everyone else? “Loony!” “Crackpot!” Don’t imagine I’m doing all this as a madman now. Before I hit my head falling off a horse . . .
    Henry suddenly stops, noticing the four young men are agitated, dismayed, and confused.
    HENRY    (
cont.
) Why are you staring at each other? Trying to decide? Is he or isn’t he? All right, then, I’m a loony! Well, by God, on your knees, then! Kneel! I commandyou to get on your knees and touch the ground with your foreheads, three times. Get down! That’s what you do when you’re confronted by a maniac! (
jeers
) Oh, get up for God’s sake! Sheep! Why didn’t you put me in a straitjacket? You’re crushed by the weight of a word that weighs less than a fly. Our whole lives, crushed by the weight of words, empty words. Here I am. Hello. Do you really think Henry IV is alive? Yet, you’re alive—and you let me order you about. Do you think it’s funny, a dead man running your lives? Well, maybe it’s funny in here. Go outside in the real world, and the joke wears a little thin. The day breaks—it’s dawn, the day’s ahead of us, you say, it’s ours to make. Really? You really think so? Start talking. Repeat all the words that have ever been said. Do you think you’re living now? Well, you’re not. You’re chewing on dead men’s cud. (
stopping in front of Bertold, who is now completely dazed
) You haven’t understood a thing, have you? What’s your name?
    BERTOLD    My name . . . er, Bertold.
    HENRY    Bertold, my arse. Just between you and me, what’s your name?
    BERTOLD    Well, actually, it’s Fino.
    HENRY    Fino what?
    BERTOLD    Fino Pagliuca, sir.
    HENRY    I’ve often heard you using your names. You’re Lolo?
    LANDOLF    Yes, sir. (
joyfully
) Oh, my God, you mean . . . ?
    HENRY    (
sharply
) I mean what?
    LANDOLF    No . . . I only . . .
    HENRY    Aren’t I crazy anymore? No, of course not, let’s have a really good laugh at those who think I am. (
to Harold
) You’re Franco . . . (
to Ordulf
) And you, let me think . . .
    ORDULF    Momo!
    HENRY    That’s it! Momo! Nice name.
    LANDOLF    But then . . . Oh, God . . .
    HENRY    What? Nothing, let’s have a good laugh about it, just the five of us. After three. Three. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
    Landolf, Harold,