Boston Marriage Read online

  Acclaim for David Mamet’s

  BOSTON

  MARRIAGE

  "Delicious…[A] dizzyingly arch comedy of manners…Mamet has a gay old time fusing his own rat-a-tat style with that of the Wilde-Somerset Maugham–Noël Coward set."

  —The Boston Phoenix

  "Clever …delicious…Mamet create[s] some wonderfully funny contrasts between the artifice of that era and the bluntness of today."

  —Boston Herald

  "With brilliant economy and with his God-given ear for the exact rhythms of even mannered speech, Mamet enshrines a sense of blessing, not of barbarity; instead of dissecting life’s viciousness, for once he dethrones its seriousness…[He] appears before us in some giddy exhilarating version of himself [and] manages both to employ and to parody the language of Victorian drawing-room melodrama and the privilege it betokens."

  —John Lahr, The New Yorker

  DAVID MAMET

  BOSTON

  MARRIAGE

  David Mamet was born in Chicago in 1947. He studied at Goddard College in Vermont and at the Neighborhood Playhouse School of Theater in New York. He has taught at Goddard College, the Yale Drama School, and New York University, and lectures at New York’s Atlantic Theater Company, of which he is a founding member. He is the author of the plays The Cryptogram, Oleanna, Speed-the-Plow, Glengarry Glen Ross, American Buffalo, and Sexual Perversity in Chicago. He has also written screenplays for such films as House of Games and the Oscar-nominated The Verdict, as well as The Spanish Prisoner, The Winslow Boy, and Wag the Dog. His plays have won the Pulitzer Prize and the Obie Award.

  ALSO BY DAVID MAMET

  PLAYS

  The Old Neighborhood The Cryptogram

  Oleanna

  Speed-the-Plow

  Bobby Gould in Hell

  The Woods

  The Shaw and Prairie du Chien

  Reunion and Dark Pony and The Sanctity of Marriage

  The Poet and the Rent

  Lakeboat

  Goldberg Street

  Glengarry Glen Ross

  The Frog Prince

  The Water Engine and Mr. Happiness

  Edmond

  American Buffalo

  A Life in the Theater

  Sexual Perversity in Chicago and The Duck Variations

  FICTION

  The Village

  The Old Religion

  Wilson

  NONFICTION

  Jafsie and John Henry

  True and False

  The Cabin

  On Directing Film

  Some Freaks

  Make Believe Town

  Writing in Restaurants

  Three Uses of the Knife

  South of the Northeast Kingdom

  SCREENPLAYS

  Oleanna

  Glengarry Glen Ross

  We’re No Angels

  Things Change (with Shel Silverstein)

  Hoffa

  The Untouchables

  The Postman Always Rings Twice

  The Verdict

  House of Games

  Homicide

  Wag the Dog

  The Edge

  The Spanish Prisoner

  The Winslow Boy

  State and Main

  Heist

  This play is dedicated to Brigitte Lacombe

  Boston Marriage was originally produced on the stage by the American Repertory Theatre in Cambridge, Massachusetts; Robert Brustein, Artistic Director; Robert J. Orchard, Managing Director. The production opened on June 4, 1999, at the Hasty Pudding Theatre, with the following cast:

  CLAIRE Rebecca Pidgeon

  ANNA Felicity Huffman

  CATHERINE Mary McCann

  Directed by David Mamet; sets by Sharon Kaitz and J. Michael Griggs; costumes by Harriet Voyt; lighting by John Ambrosone.

  CHARACTERS

  ANNA and CLAIRE, two women of fashion

  CATHERINE, the maid

  SCENE

  A drawing room.

  ACT ONE

  A drawing room. ANNA is seated in a day dress. She wears a large emerald necklace. CLAIRE enters.

  CLAIRE: I beg your pardon. Have I the right house?

  ANNA: What address did you wish?

  CLAIRE: Two forty-five.

  ANNA: The number is correct in all particulars.

  CLAIRE: Then it is the décor which baffles me.

  ANNA: Have you not heard that this one or that, in an idle moment, conceives the idea to redecorate?

  CLAIRE: Yes.

  ANNA: You have heard?

  CLAIRE: Indeed. But how does this inspired person pay for it?

  ANNA: He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.

  CLAIRE: Who would that be?

  ANNA: It is in the Bible.

  CLAIRE: And has he an agent on the Earth, GOOD GOD, what is that around your neck?

  ANNA: It is a necklace.

  CLAIRE: …oh, my Lord …

  ANNA: What?

  CLAIRE: Do you not find it…somewhat excessive for the morning?

  ANNA: I wear it, should I be summoned on the instant, to choke a horse.

  CLAIRE: To choke a horse. Are not there men employed precisely for that purpose?

  ANNA: Oh, dear, I should hate to think I was depriving them of livelihood.

  CLAIRE: How good you are.

  ANNA: Not at all.

  CLAIRE: Might I be forgiven to ask: Is it Real?

  ANNA: My dear, I have not lost my Taste …

  CLAIRE: Then you have lost your virtue …?

  ANNA: Yes.

  CLAIRE: Thank God.

  ANNA: A man gave it to me.

  CLAIRE: A man.

  ANNA: They do have such hopes for the mercantile.

  CLAIRE: And those hopes so rarely disappointed.

  ANNA: Well, we do love shiny things.

  CLAIRE: In unity with our sisters the Fish.

  ANNA: Men …

  CLAIRE: What can one do with them.

  ANNA: Just the One Thing.

  CLAIRE: Though, in your case, it seems to’ve been effective.

  ANNA: In like a Lion, out like a Lamb. (Pause)

  DAVID MAM ET

  CLAIRE: This feller fancies you dead rotten.

  ANNA: You don’t know the fraction of it.

  CLAIRE: Enlighten me.

  ANNA: The Jewel.

  CLAIRE: Yes.

  ANNA: Not only is it real: it is a Family Heirloom.

  CLAIRE: An Heirloom. How better-than-good!

  ANNA: Been in his family five generations.

  CLAIRE: O finders keepers. Well done!

  ANNA: Only conceive, I pray you, that the Jewel is real, my debts are cleared, I have an account at the Dressmaker’s, and he has settled upon me, into the bargain, a monthly stipend …

  CLAIRE: Stop …

  ANNA: I tell you yes. Sufficient to support both me and you in Comfort.

  CLAIRE: Oh Bravo. For how glad one is. To see one’s friend, come at long last into Safe Harbor.

  ANNA: Thank you.

  CLAIRE: Good for you, good for the Side. But…

  ANNA: Speak.

  CLAIRE: This "man."

  ANNA: Yes.

  CLAIRE: This, this, this…

  ANNA: My "Protector."

  CLAIRE: Does he not know …does he not know your …"reputation"?

  ANNA: He is just returned from a long sojourn abroad.

  CLAIRE: What? On the Moon?

  ANNA: Ha ha.

  CLAIRE: Is he in commerce on the Moon?

  ANNA: … ha.

  CLAIRE: Is he a Dealer in Green Cheese? Is that your News? Have you beguiled a Dairy man?

  ANNA: I do not know his profession, or if, indeed, he follows one; I know that he is very rich. That he has been Abro
ad, and that he, willy-nilly, delights in regaling me with various kickshaws significant of the esteem in which he holds me.

  CLAIRE: …may it continue.

  ANNA: How could it miscarry?

  CLAIRE: Do not tempt fate.

  ANNA: He worships me. What could go awry?

  CLAIRE: Has he, for example, a wife?

  ANNA: Why would he require a mistress if he had no wife? Of course he has a wife. But does this "wife" hold his affection? Does she wear This Jewel, magnificently wrought, unique in all the world?

  CLAIRE: I must say that it suits you.

  ANNA: I am told some ancestor once staked it against a half province in the Punjab.

  CLAIRE: At what contest?

  ANNA: …could it have been croquet?

  CLAIRE: …my golly they played high.

  ANNA: But what are riches, whose reflections shine so cold …

  CLAIRE: …mmm…

  ANNA: … in contrast with that true warmth, that sole, true warmth, Of Love and Friendship?

  CLAIRE: That warmth incalculable and unvarying.

  ANNA: Is it not so?

  CLAIRE: Which delights in the success of the other.

  ANNA: Aha, aha: I beg your pardon. For do I not perceive in you that roseate glow, my angel, my dove, and words of that character, which must speak of your triumph? Yes, I see that you have brought me a bonne bouche to console me for your so cruel and prolonged absence.

  CLAIRE: You read my story in my face.

  ANNA: When could I not? How I have missed you.

  CLAIRE: One must follow the buffalo herd.

  ANNA: And now you return, with news. You return, not unlike Prometheus. Who brought fire to the gods.

  CLAIRE: The classical construction, of course, had him steal fire from the gods.

  ANNA: He stole fire from the gods?

  CLAIRE: Yes.

  ANNA: And this is generally known.

  CLAIRE: It is proverbial.

  ANNA: I speak under correction.

  CLAIRE: Might I have a cup of tea?

  ANNA: Yes, yes, but with no further delay, now your news. Inform me.

  The MAID enters.

  MAID: Morning, miss.

  ANNA: (To CLAIRE) Have you unearthed your own protector? Is that your report of the World’s New Jest? What do you think, Tea, Bridey eh? Celebratory tea, and, in fact, we shall have a party. That’s what we shall do. We shall have …

  CLAIRE: Yes, curiously, that is not my news.

  MAID: It’s Catherine, miss.

  ANNA: Yes, we shall have a party, and display through both my ostentation and my taste, the esteem …

  MAID: It’s Catherine, miss…

  ANNA: …excuse me … in which I hold you, My Dear Claire. Your place in my heart, and in my home. For what is home without you? A sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.

  CLAIRE: That is so well said …

  ANNA: It is not mine.

  CLAIRE: Its employment, however, is so touching.

  ANNA: You spoil me.

  CLAIRE: I speak but the truth.

  ANNA: We shall have cakes and sweetmeats. The piquant and the sweet. Which only a sense of propriety debars me from conflating with my feelings. For you, My et cetera. How I have missed you.

  CLAIRE: …bless you.

  ANNA: Tea, Bridey do you see? Pen and paper, for we are going to plan a Fete …

  MAID: It’s Catherine, miss …

  ANNA: And shall we invite, do I see in your eyes, a "Guest of Honor"? Some Gentleman, perhaps, whom you have "brought to heel"? Is that your news? Tea, Bridey.

  CLAIRE: No, that is not my news.

  MAID: …it’s Catherine, miss.

  CLAIRE: I am in Love.

  ANNA: What did you say?

  MAID: I said it’s Catherine …(Pause)

  ANNA: Not Mary? (Pause) Not "Mary," I said? Or "Peggy"? (Pause) Cringing Irish Terror, is it? What do you want? Home Rule, and all small children to raise geese? O …Ireland, each and all descended from kings who strode five miles of lighted streets in Liffey whilst the English dwelt in Caves. Is that the general tone, of your Irish divertimento? (Pause) Eh?

  MAID: I’m Scottish, miss. (Pause)

  ANNA: Are you? (Pause) I asked you a question.

  MAID: Yes, miss.

  ANNA: What is the main street in Edinburgh?

  MAID: I don’t know, miss.

  ANNA: Where are you from?

  MAID: From the Islands.

  ANNA: What islands might those be?

  MAID: The Orkney Islands, miss.

  ANNA: Where are they situated? (Pause)

  CLAIRE: Where are they?

  MAID: They are in the North, miss.

  ANNA: In the North.

  MAID: Yes.

  ANNA: In the North of Scotland. (Pause)

  MAID: Yes. (Pause)

  ANNA: What water are they in?

  MAID: …what water?

  ANNA: Yes.

  MAID: (Pause) In the sea, miss.

  ANNA: What’s the name of it?

  MAID: The name of the sea, miss?

  ANNA: Yes. (Pause)

  MAID: The North Sea, miss.

  ANNA: (Pause. To CLAIRE) Dissolve …

  (MAID exits.)

  ANNA: Is it the North Sea, then?

  CLAIRE: I believe it is.

  ANNA: Is it?

  CLAIRE: I think it is. (Pause)

  ANNA: Is it invariably called that?

  CLAIRE: I believe so.

  ANNA: Is it the sea we are wont to call the German Sea?

  CLAIRE: The German Sea.

  DAVID MAM ET

  ANNA: Is it the same?

  CLAIRE: I fear that there I disappoint you. (Doorbell) The MAID enters. Pause.)

  ANNA: What brings you back?

  MAID: I’ve come to clear, miss.

  ANNA: Why would you assume that service required? Has it not been but these two moments you have left the sweetmeats here? Is this some gastronomic monomania of yours? Some distaste for letting food "sit"? One would have thought to’ve encountered such in the Southern lands, where heat, engendering maggots, must inspire haste; from which, here in the North, the cold would have been supposed to’ve offered some protection.

  CLAIRE: Your mistress suggests you needn’t come until she’s called you.

  MAID: She did call me.

  ANNA: To the contrary.

  MAID: You rang the bell.

  ANNA: Thank you, I haven’t rung the bell. I haven’t got a bell. D’you see?

  MAID: I heard a bell.

  ANNA: Well, it is the front door, then. Why don’t you answer it? (MAID exits.) And now, perhaps, to save my worthless life, you’d explain your late announcement. Pray let me but bind myself to the mast.

  (The MAID passes, in the BG.)

  ANNA: Who is it?

  MAID: Fella come about the stove.

  ANNA: Yes. What about the stove?

  MAID: He came to fix it.

  ANNA: Is it broken?

  MAID: Yes, mum. (Exits)

  ANNA: Oh good. (Pause) How do you find the weather? (Pause) Do you not find it is fine?

  CLAIRE: I find that it is seasonable …

  ANNA: …yes…

  CLAIRE: …for this time of year.

  ANNA: Mmm.

  CLAIRE: And that is as far as I’m prepared to commit myself. (Pause) But I was saying …

  ANNA: Yes, you were saying that you were "in love." As you phrased it. You were, in midcareer, as it were, prating of this "Love."

  CLAIRE: And you, friend of my Youth …

  ANNA: …what memory …

  CLAIRE: At the announcement…

  ANNA: Yes?

  CLAIRE: At the announcement, grow if I do not mistake, cold. Can you say why?

  ANNA: Why?

  CLAIRE: Yes.

  ANNA: I have redecorated our room in Chintz. In Chintz, a fabric I abhor, in your absence, do you see? To please you.

  CLAIRE: In Chintz?

  ANNA: You
once expressed a preference for chintz.

  CLAIRE: I

  ANNA: For Chintz, which I have, oblivious to the verdict of the World, festooned …

  CLAIRE: I…

  ANNA: I come into funds, I come into funds, and my FIRST THOUGHT, do you see? Is it for myself? It is for you. Do I expect thanks? I would be glad of mute appreciation. I receive nothing but the tale of your new rutting. (Pause) Oh how lonely you make me feel. How small. For how can one cherish, nay, how can one respect one, however dear, however well formed, who acts so arbitrarily—so cruel? But yes, the engine of the world’s betrayal, is it not? And we are sentenced to strive with the world. (Pause)

  CLAIRE: I’m sorry, what? (Pause) Did I miss anything? (Pause)

  ANNA: I poured out my heart blood.

  CLAIRE: Oh …(Pause) I’ve forgotten what I was going to say.

  ANNA: Say something else. (Pause)

  CLAIRE: How practical you are.

  ANNA: For what is speech?

  CLAIRE: I had often thought, it is as the chirping of the birds, minus their laudable disinterestedness.

  ANNA: Oh what a vast, oh what a vast and pointless shithole it all is.

  CLAIRE: What would that be?

  ANNA: Our lives.

  (MAID enters)

  ANNA: What is it? What do you want? Saving national sovereignty and reparations? What? An apology for your potato famine? IT CAME FROM THE LACK OF ROTATION OF CROPS!!! Do you hear? From a depletion of…

  CLAIRE: Nitrogen.

  ANNA: Nitrogen, or something, in the soil. Do you think that the soil can go on forever, giving? Giving. Never a thought for replenishment? Dirt, do you see? Like every other thing in this green and confusing world, needs conservation and care, no less, in the end, than you and I. It is a thoughtless and, worse, unobservant soul who would say otherwise.

  MAID: Mum.

  ANNA: But you have my ear.

  MAID: The dinner, mum.

  ANNA: One would’ve thought that to’ve been the province of the cook. (Pause) Oh, no.

  CLAIRE: You never could keep help.

  ANNA: Did she say it was because of the stove?

  MAID: She did allow as how she couldn’t cook with no stove.

  CLAIRE: Well, one must credit her argument.

  ANNA: Your attitude smacks of the republican.