WILLY [after a pause]: Well, better get going. I want to get to the school first thing in the morning. Get my suits out of the closet. I’ll get my valise. [BIFF doesn’t move.] What’s the matter? [BIFF remains motionless, tears falling.] She’s a buyer. Buys for J. H. Simmons. She lives down the hall—they’re painting. You don’t imagine—[He breaks off. After a pause] Now listen, pal, she’s just a buyer. She sees merchandise in her room and they have to keep it looking just so . . . [Pause. Assuming command] All right, get my suits. [BIFF doesn’t move.] Now stop crying and do as I say. I gave you an order. Biff, I gave you an order! Is that what you do when I give you an order? How dare you cry? [Putting his arm around BIFF] Now look, Biff, when you grow up you’ll understand about these things. You mustn’t—you mustn’t overemphasize a thing like this. I’ll see Birnbaum first thing in the morning.
BIFF: Never mind.
WILLY [ getting down beside BIFF]: Never mind! He’s going to give you those points. I’ll see to it.
BIFF: He wouldn’t listen to you.
WILLY: He certainly will listen to me. You need those points for the U. of Virginia.
BIFF: I’m not going there.
WILLY: Heh? If I can’t get him to change that mark you’ll make it up in summer school. You’ve got all summer to—
BIFF [his weeping breaking from him]: Dad . . .
WILLY [infected by it]: Oh, my boy . . .
BIFF: Dad . . .
WILLY: She’s nothing to me, Biff. I was lonely, I was terribly lonely.
BIFF: You—you gave her Mama’s stockings! [His tears break through and he rises to go.]
WILLY [ grabbing for BIFF]: I gave you an order!
BIFF: Don’t touch me, you—liar!
WILLY: Apologize for that!
BIFF: You fake! You phony little fake! You fake! [Overcome, he turns quickly and weeping fully goes out with his suitcase. WILLY is left on the floor on his knees.]
WILLY: I gave you an order! Biff, come back here or I’ll beat you! Come back here! I’ll whip you!
[STANLEY comes quickly in from the right and stands in front of WILLY.]
WILLY [shouts at STANLEY]: I gave you an order . . .
STANLEY: Hey, let’s pick it up, pick it up, Mr. Loman. [He helps WILLY to his feet.] Your boys left with the chippies. They said they’ll see you home.
[A second waiter watches some distance away.]
WILLY: But we were supposed to have dinner together.
[Music is heard, WILLY’S theme.]
STANLEY: Can you make it?
WILLY: I’ll—sure, I can make it. [Suddenly concerned about his clothes.] Do I—I look all right?
STANLEY: Sure, you look all right. [He flicks a speck off WILLY’S lapel.]
WILLY: Here—here’s a dollar.
STANLEY: Oh, your son paid me. It’s all right.
WILLY [ putting it in STANLEY’S hand]: No, take it. You’re a good boy.
STANLEY: Oh, no, you don’t have to . . .
WILLY: Here—here’s some more. I don’t need it any more. [After a slight pause] Tell me—is there a seed store in the neighborhood?
STANLEY: Seeds? You mean like to plant?
[As WILLY turns, STANLEY slips the money back into his jacket pocket.]
WILLY: Yes. Carrots, peas . . .
STANLEY: Well, there’s hardware stores on Sixth Avenue, but it may be too late now.
WILLY [anxiously]: Oh, I’d better hurry. I’ve got to get some seeds. [He starts off to the right.] I’ve got to get some seeds, right away. Nothing’s planted. I don’t have a thing in the ground.
[WILLY hurries out as the light goes down. STANLEY moves over to the right after him, watches him off. The other waiter has been staring at WILLY.]
STANLEY [to the waiter]: Well, whatta you looking at?
[The waiter picks up the chairs and moves off right. STANLEY takes the table and follows him. The light fades on this area. There is a long pause, the sound of the flute coming over. The light gradually rises on the kitchen, which is empty. HAPPY appears at the door of the house, followed by BIFF. HAPPY is carrying a large bunch of long-stemmed roses. He enters the kitchen, looks around for LINDA. Not seeing her, he turns to BIFF, who is just outside the house door, and makes a gesture with his hands, indicating “Not here, I guess.” He looks into the living-room and freezes. Inside, LINDA, unseen, is seated, WILLY’S coat on her lap. She rises ominously and quietly and moves toward HAPPY, who backs up into the kitchen, afraid.]
HAPPY: Hey, what’re you doing up? [LINDA says nothing but moves toward him implacably.] Where’s Pop? [He keeps backing to the right, and now LINDA is in full view in the doorway to the living-room.] Is he sleeping?
LINDA: Where were you?
HAPPY [trying to laugh it off ]: We met two girls, Mom, very fine types. Here, we brought you some flowers. [Offering them to her] Put them in your room, Ma.
[She knocks them to the floor at BIFF’S feet. He has now come inside and closed the door behind him. She stares at BIFF, silent.]
HAPPY: Now what’d you do that for? Mom, I want you to have some flowers—
LINDA [cutting HAPPY off, violently to BIFF]: Don’t you care whether he lives or dies?
HAPPY [going to the stairs]: Come upstairs, Biff.
BIFF [with a flare of disgust, to HAPPY]: Go away from me! [To LINDA] What do you mean, lives or dies? Nobody’s dying around here, pal.
LINDA: Get out of my sight! Get out of here!
BIFF: I wanna see the boss.
LINDA: You’re not going near him!
BIFF: Where is he? [He moves into the living-room and LINDA follows.]
LINDA [shouting after BIFF]: You invite him to dinner. He looks forward to it all day—[BIFF appears in his parents’ bedroom, looks around, and exits]—and then you desert him there. There’s no stranger you’d do that to!
HAPPY: Why? He had a swell time with us. Listen, when I—[LINDA comes back into the kitchen]—desert him I hope I don’t outlive the day!
LINDA: Get out of here!
HAPPY: Now look, Mom . . .
LINDA: Did you have to go to women tonight? You and your lousy rotten whores!
[BIFF reenters the kitchen.]
HAPPY: Mom, all we did was follow Biff around trying to cheer him up! [To BIFF] Boy, what a night you gave me!
LINDA: Get out of here, both of you, and don’t come back! I don’t want you tormenting him any more. Go on now, get your things together! [To BIFF] You can sleep in his apartment. [She starts to pick up the flowers and stops herself.] Pick up this stuff, I’m not your maid any more. Pick it up, you bum, you!
[HAPPY turns his back to her in refusal. BIFF slowly moves over and gets down on his knees, picking up the flowers.]
LINDA: You’re a pair of animals! Not one, not another living soul would have had the cruelty to walk out on that man in a restaurant!
BIFF [not looking at her]: Is that what he said?
LINDA: He didn’t have to say anything. He was so humiliated he nearly limped when he came in.
HAPPY: But, Mom, he had a great time with us—
BIFF [cutting him off violently]: Shut up!
[Without another word, HAPPY goes upstairs.]
LINDA: You! You didn’t even go in to see if he was all right!
BIFF [still on the floor in front of LINDA, the flowers in his hand; with self-loathing]: No. Didn’t. Didn’t do a damned thing. How do you like that, heh? Left him babbling in a toilet.
LINDA: You louse. You . . .
BIFF: Now you hit it on the nose! [He gets up, throws the flowers in the wastebasket.] The scum of the earth, and you’re looking at him!
LINDA: Get out of here!
BIFF: I gotta talk to the boss, Mom. Where is he?
LINDA: You’re not going near him. Get out of this house!
BIFF [with absolute assurance, determination]: No. We’re gonna have an abrupt conversation, him and me.
LINDA: You’re not talking to him!
 
; [Hammering is heard from outside the house, off right. BIFF turns toward the noise.]
LINDA [suddenly pleading]: Will you please leave him alone? BIFF: What’s he doing out there?
LINDA: He’s planting the garden!
BIFF [quietly]: Now? Oh, my God!
[BIFF moves outside, LINDA following. The light dies down on them and comes up on the center of the apron as WILLY walks into it. He is carrying a flashlight, a hoe, and a handful of seed packets. He raps the top of the hoe sharply to fix it firmly, and then moves to the left, measuring off the distance with his foot. He holds the flashlight to look at the seed packets, reading off the instructions. He is in the blue of night.]
WILLY: Carrots . . . quarter-inch apart. Rows . . . one-foot rows. [He measures it off.] One foot. [He puts down a package and measures off.] Beets. [He puts down another package and measures again.] Lettuce. [He reads the package, puts it down.] One foot—[He breaks off as BEN appears at the right and moves slowly down to him.] What a proposition, ts, ts. Terrific, terrific. ’Cause she’s suffered, Ben, the woman has suffered. You understand me? A man can’t go out the way he came in, Ben, a man has got to add up to something. You can’t, you can’t—[BEN moves toward him as though to interrupt.] You gotta consider, now. Don’t answer so quick. Remember, it’s a guaranteed twenty-thousand-dollar proposition. Now look, Ben, I want you to go through the ins and outs of this thing with me. I’ve got nobody to talk to, Ben, and the woman has suffered, you hear me?
BEN [standing still, considering]: What’s the proposition?
WILLY: It’s twenty thousand dollars on the barrelhead. Guaranteed, gilt-edged, you understand?
BEN: You don’t want to make a fool of yourself. They might not honor the policy.
WILLY: How can they dare refuse? Didn’t I work like a coolie to meet every premium on the nose? And now they don’t pay off ? Impossible!
BEN: It’s called a cowardly thing, William.
WILLY: Why? Does it take more guts to stand here the rest of my life ringing up a zero?
BEN [yielding]: That’s a point, William. [He moves, thinking, turns.] And twenty thousand—that is something one can feel with the hand, it is there.
WILLY [now assured, with rising power]: Oh, Ben, that’s the whole beauty of it! I see it like a diamond, shining in the dark, hard and rough, that I can pick up and touch in my hand. Not like—like an appointment! This would not be another damned-fool appointment, Ben, and it changes all the aspects. Because he thinks I’m nothing, see, and so he spites me. But the funeral—[Straightening up] Ben, that funeral will be massive! They’ll come from Maine, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire! All the old-timers with the strange license plates—that boy will be thunderstruck, Ben, because he never realized—I am known! Rhode Island, New York, New Jersey—I am known, Ben, and he’ll see it with his eyes once and for all. He’ll see what I am, Ben! He’s in for a shock, that boy!
BEN [coming down to the edge of the garden]: He’ll call you a coward.
WILLY [suddenly fearful]: No, that would be terrible.
BEN: Yes. And a damned fool.
WILLY: No, no, he mustn’t, I won’t have that! [He is broken and desperate.]
BEN: He’ll hate you, William.
[The gay music of the boys is heard.]
WILLY: Oh, Ben, how do we get back to all the great times? Used to be so full of light, and comradeship, the sleigh-riding in winter, and the ruddiness on his cheeks. And always some kind of good news coming up, always something nice coming up ahead. And never even let me carry the valises in the house, and simonizing, simonizing that little red car! Why, why can’t I give him something and not have him hate me?
BEN: Let me think about it. [He glances at his watch.] I still have a little time. Remarkable proposition, but you’ve got to be sure you’re not making a fool of yourself.
[BEN drifts off upstage and goes out of sight. BIFF comes down from the left.]
WILLY [suddenly conscious of BIFF, turns and looks up at him, then begins picking up the packages of seeds in confusion]: Where the hell is that seed? [Indignantly] You can’t see nothing out here! They boxed in the whole goddam neighborhood!
BIFF: There are people all around here. Don’t you realize that?
WILLY: I’m busy. Don’t bother me.
BIFF [taking the hoe from WILLY]: I’m saying good-bye to you, Pop. [WILLY looks at him, silent, unable to move.] I’m not coming back any more.
WILLY: You’re not going to see Oliver tomorrow?
BIFF: I’ve got no appointment, Dad.
WILLY: He put his arm around you, and you’ve got no appointment?
BIFF: Pop, get this now, will you? Everytime I’ve left it’s been a fight that sent me out of here. Today I realized something about myself and I tried to explain it to you and I—I think I’m just not smart enough to make any sense out of it for you. To hell with whose fault it is or anything like that. [He takes WILLY’S arm.] Let’s just wrap it up, heh? Come on in, we’ll tell Mom. [He gently tries to pull WILLY to left.]
WILLY [ frozen, immobile, with guilt in his voice]: No, I don’t want to see her.
BIFF: Come on! [He pulls again, and WILLY tries to pull away.]
WILLY [highly nervous]: No, no, I don’t want to see her.
BIFF [tries to look into WILLY’S face, as if to find the answer there]: Why don’t you want to see her?
WILLY [more harshly now]: Don’t bother me, will you?
BIFF: What do you mean, you don’t want to see her? You don’t want them calling you yellow, do you? This isn’t your fault; it’s me, I’m a bum. Now come inside! [WILLY strains to get away.] Did you hear what I said to you?
[WILLY pulls away and quickly goes by himself into the house. BIFF follows.]
LINDA [to WILLY]: Did you plant, dear?
BIFF [at the door, to LINDA]: All right, we had it out. I’m going and I’m not writing any more.
LINDA [ going to WILLY in the kitchen]: I think that’s the best way, dear. ’Cause there’s no use drawing it out, you’ll just never get along.
[WILLY doesn’t respond.]
BIFF: People ask where I am and what I’m doing, you don’t know, and you don’t care. That way it’ll be off your mind and you can start brightening up again. All right? That clears it, doesn’t it? [WILLY is silent, and BIFF goes to him.] You gonna wish me luck, scout? [He extends his hand] What do you say?
LINDA: Shake his hand, Willy.
WILLY [turning to her, seething with hurt]: There’s no necessity to mention the pen at all, y’know.
BIFF [gently]: I’ve got no appointment, Dad.
WILLY [erupting fiercely]: He put his arm around . . . ?
BIFF: Dad, you’re never going to see what I am, so what’s the use of arguing? If I strike oil I’ll send you a check. Meantime forget I’m alive.
WILLY [to LINDA]: Spite, see?
BIFF: Shake hands, Dad.
WILLY: Not my hand.
BIFF: I was hoping not to go this way.
WILLY: Well, this is the way you’re going. Good-bye.
[BIFF looks at him a moment, then turns sharply and goes to the stairs.]
WILLY [stops him with]: May you rot in hell if you leave this house!
BIFF [turning]: Exactly what is it that you want from me?
WILLY: I want you to know, on the train, in the mountains, in the valleys, wherever you go, that you cut down your life for spite!
BIFF: No, no.
WILLY: Spite, spite, is the word of your undoing! And when you’re down and out, remember what did it. When you’re rotting somewhere beside the railroad tracks, remember, and don’t you dare blame it on me!
BIFF: I’m not blaming it on you!
WILLY: I won’t take the rap for this, you hear?
[HAPPY comes down the stairs and stands on the bottom step, watching.]
BIFF: That’s just what I’m telling you!
WILLY [sinking into a chair at the table, with full accusation]: You’re trying to
put a knife in me—don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing!
BIFF: All right, phony! Then let’s lay it on the line. [He whips the rubber tube out of his pocket and puts it on the table.]
HAPPY: You crazy—
LINDA: Biff! [She moves to grab the hose, but BIFF holds it down with his hand.]
BIFF: Leave it there! Don’t move it!
WILLY [not looking at it]: What is that?
BIFF: You know goddam well what that is.
WILLY [caged, wanting to escape]: I never saw that.
BIFF: You saw it. The mice didn’t bring it into the cellar! What is this supposed to do, make a hero out of you? This supposed to make me sorry for you?
WILLY: Never heard of it.
BIFF: There’ll be no pity for you, you hear it? No pity!
WILLY [to LINDA]: You hear the spite!
BIFF: No, you’re going to hear the truth—what you are and what I am!
LINDA: Stop it!
WILLY: Spite!
HAPPY [coming down toward BIFF]: You cut it now!
BIFF [to HAPPY]: The man don’t know who we are! The man is gonna know! [To WILLY] We never told the truth for ten minutes in this house!
HAPPY: We always told the truth!
BIFF [turning on him]: You big blow, are you the assistant buyer? You’re one of the two assistants to the assistant, aren’t you?
HAPPY: Well, I’m practically—
BIFF: You’re practically full of it! We all are! And I’m through with it. [To WILLY] Now hear this, Willy, this is me.
WILLY: I know you!
BIFF: You know why I had no address for three months? I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was in jail. [To LINDA, who is sobbing] Stop crying. I’m through with it.
[LINDA turns away from them, her hands covering her face.]
WILLY: I suppose that’s my fault!
BIFF: I stole myself out of every good job since high school!
WILLY: And whose fault is that?
BIFF: And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That’s whose fault it is!
WILLY: I hear that!
LINDA: Don’t, Biff!