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Authors: Arthur Miller
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triumph, and Eddieâs grin vanishes as he absorbs his look.
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CURTAIN
ACT TWO
Light rises on Alfieri at his desk.
ALFIERI: On the twenty-third of that December a case of Scotch whisky slipped from a net while being unloadedâas a case of Scotch whisky is inclined to do on the twenty-third of December on Pier Forty-one. There was no snow, but it was cold, his wife was out shopping. Marco was still at work. The boy had not been hired that day; Catherine told me later that this was the first time they had been alone together in the house.
Light is rising on Catherine in the apartment. Rodolpho is watching as she arranges a paper pattern on cloth spread on the table.
CATHERINE: You hungry?
RODOLPHO: Not for anything to eat. Pause. I have nearly three hundred dollars. Catherine?
CATHERINE: I heard you.
RODOLPHO: You donât like to talk about it any more?
CATHERINE: Sure, I donât mind talkinâ about it.
RODOLPHO: What worries you, Catherine?
CATHERINE: I been wantinâ to ask you about something. Could I?
RODOLPHO: All the answers are in my eyes, Catherine. But you donât look in my eyes lately. Youâre full of secrets. She looks at him. She seems withdrawn. What is the question?
CATHERINE: Suppose I wanted to live in Italy.
RODOLPHO, smiling at the incongruity: You going to marry somebody rich?
CATHERINE: No, I mean live thereâyou and me.
RODOLPHO, his smile vanishing: When?
CATHERINE: Well ... when we get married.
RODOLPHO, astonished: You want to be an Italian?
CATHERINE: No, but I could live there without being Italian. Americans live there.
RODOLPHO: Forever?
CATHERINE: Yeah.
ROOOLPHO crosses to rocker: Youâre fooling.
CATHERINE: No, I mean it.
RODOLPHO: Where do you get such an idea?
CATHERINE: Well, youâre always saying itâs so beautiful there, with the mountains and the ocean and all theâ
RODOLPHO: Youâre fooling me.
CATHERINE: I mean it.
RODOLPHO goes to her slowly: Catherine, if I ever brought you home with no money, no business, nothing, they would call the priest and the doctor and they would say Rodolpho is crazy.
CATHERINE: I know, but I think we would be happier there.
RODOLPHO: Happier! What would you eat? You canât cook the view!
CATHERINE: Maybe you could be a singer, like in Rome orâ
RODOLPHO: Rome! Rome is full of singers.
CATHERINE: Well, I could work then.
RODOLPHO: Where?
CATHERINE: God, there must be jobs somewhere!
RODOLPHO: Thereâs nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing. Now tell me what youâre talking about. How can I bring you from a rich country to suffer in a poor country? What are you talking about? She searches for words. I would be a criminal stealing your face. In two years you would have an old, hungry face. When my brotherâs babies cry they give them water, water that boiled a bone. Donât you believe that?
CATHERINE, quietly: Iâm afraid of Eddie here.
Slight pause.
RODOLPHO steps closer to her: We wouldnât live here. Once I am a citizen I could work anywhere and I would find better jobs and we would have a house, Catherine. If I were not afraid to be arrested I would start to be something wonderful here!
CATHERINE, steeling herself: Tell me something. I mean just tell me, Rodolphoâwould you still want to do it if it turned out we had to go live in Italy? I mean just if it turned out that way.
RODOLPHO: This is your question or his question?
CATHERINE: I would like to know, Rodolpho. I mean it.
RODOLPHO: To go there with nothing.
CATHERINE : Yeah.
RODOLPHO: No. She looks at him wide-eyed. No.
CATHERINE: You wouldnât?
RODOLPHO: No; I will not marry you to live in Italy. I want you to be my wife, and I want to be a citizen. Tell him that, or I will. Yes. He moves about angrily. And tell him also, and tell yourself, please, that I am not a beggar, and you are not a horse, a gift, a favor for a poor immigrant.
CATHERINE: Well, donât get
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CURTAIN
ACT TWO
Light rises on Alfieri at his desk.
ALFIERI: On the twenty-third of that December a case of Scotch whisky slipped from a net while being unloadedâas a case of Scotch whisky is inclined to do on the twenty-third of December on Pier Forty-one. There was no snow, but it was cold, his wife was out shopping. Marco was still at work. The boy had not been hired that day; Catherine told me later that this was the first time they had been alone together in the house.
Light is rising on Catherine in the apartment. Rodolpho is watching as she arranges a paper pattern on cloth spread on the table.
CATHERINE: You hungry?
RODOLPHO: Not for anything to eat. Pause. I have nearly three hundred dollars. Catherine?
CATHERINE: I heard you.
RODOLPHO: You donât like to talk about it any more?
CATHERINE: Sure, I donât mind talkinâ about it.
RODOLPHO: What worries you, Catherine?
CATHERINE: I been wantinâ to ask you about something. Could I?
RODOLPHO: All the answers are in my eyes, Catherine. But you donât look in my eyes lately. Youâre full of secrets. She looks at him. She seems withdrawn. What is the question?
CATHERINE: Suppose I wanted to live in Italy.
RODOLPHO, smiling at the incongruity: You going to marry somebody rich?
CATHERINE: No, I mean live thereâyou and me.
RODOLPHO, his smile vanishing: When?
CATHERINE: Well ... when we get married.
RODOLPHO, astonished: You want to be an Italian?
CATHERINE: No, but I could live there without being Italian. Americans live there.
RODOLPHO: Forever?
CATHERINE: Yeah.
ROOOLPHO crosses to rocker: Youâre fooling.
CATHERINE: No, I mean it.
RODOLPHO: Where do you get such an idea?
CATHERINE: Well, youâre always saying itâs so beautiful there, with the mountains and the ocean and all theâ
RODOLPHO: Youâre fooling me.
CATHERINE: I mean it.
RODOLPHO goes to her slowly: Catherine, if I ever brought you home with no money, no business, nothing, they would call the priest and the doctor and they would say Rodolpho is crazy.
CATHERINE: I know, but I think we would be happier there.
RODOLPHO: Happier! What would you eat? You canât cook the view!
CATHERINE: Maybe you could be a singer, like in Rome orâ
RODOLPHO: Rome! Rome is full of singers.
CATHERINE: Well, I could work then.
RODOLPHO: Where?
CATHERINE: God, there must be jobs somewhere!
RODOLPHO: Thereâs nothing! Nothing, nothing, nothing. Now tell me what youâre talking about. How can I bring you from a rich country to suffer in a poor country? What are you talking about? She searches for words. I would be a criminal stealing your face. In two years you would have an old, hungry face. When my brotherâs babies cry they give them water, water that boiled a bone. Donât you believe that?
CATHERINE, quietly: Iâm afraid of Eddie here.
Slight pause.
RODOLPHO steps closer to her: We wouldnât live here. Once I am a citizen I could work anywhere and I would find better jobs and we would have a house, Catherine. If I were not afraid to be arrested I would start to be something wonderful here!
CATHERINE, steeling herself: Tell me something. I mean just tell me, Rodolphoâwould you still want to do it if it turned out we had to go live in Italy? I mean just if it turned out that way.
RODOLPHO: This is your question or his question?
CATHERINE: I would like to know, Rodolpho. I mean it.
RODOLPHO: To go there with nothing.
CATHERINE : Yeah.
RODOLPHO: No. She looks at him wide-eyed. No.
CATHERINE: You wouldnât?
RODOLPHO: No; I will not marry you to live in Italy. I want you to be my wife, and I want to be a citizen. Tell him that, or I will. Yes. He moves about angrily. And tell him also, and tell yourself, please, that I am not a beggar, and you are not a horse, a gift, a favor for a poor immigrant.
CATHERINE: Well, donât get
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