[She snatches her purse open]
Sixty-five measly cents in coin of the realm!
STELLA [crossing to bureau]: Stanley doesn't give me a regular allowance, he likes to pay bills himself, but—this morning he gave me ten dollars to smooth things over. You take five of it, Blanche, and I'll keep the rest.
BLANCHE: Oh, no. No, Stella.
STELLA [insisting]: I know how it helps your morale just having a little pocket-money on you.
BLANCHE: No, thank you—I'll take to the streets!
STELLA: Talk sense! How did you happen to get so low on funds?
BLANCHE: Money just goes—it goes places.
[She rubs her forehead]
Sometime today I've got to get hold of a bromo!
STELLA: I'll fix you one now.
BLANCHE: Not yet—I've got to keep thinking!
STELLA: I wish you'd just let things go, at least for a—while....
BLANCHE: Stella, I can't live with him! You can, he's your husband. But how could I stay here with him, after last night, with, just those curtains between us?
STELLA: Blanche, you saw him at his worst last night.
BLANCHE: On the contrary, I saw him at his best! What such a man has to offer is animal force and he gave a wonderful exhibition of that! But the only way to live with such a man is to—go to bed with him! And that's your job—not mine!
STELLA: After you've rested a little, you'll see it's going to work out. You don't have to worry about anything while you're here. I mean—expenses...
BLANCHE: I have to plan for us both, to get us both—out!
STELLA: You take it for granted that I am in something that I want to get out of.
BLANCHE: I take it for granted that you still have sufficient memory of Belle Reve to find this place and these poker players impossible to live with.
STELLA: Well, you're taking entirely too much for granted.
BLANCHE: I can't believe you're in earnest!
STELLA: No?
BLANCHE: I understand how it happened—a little. You saw him in uniform, an officer, not here but—
STELLA: I'm not sure it would have made any difference where I saw him.
BLANCHE: Now don't say it was one of those mysterious electric things between people! If you do I'll laugh in your face.
STELLA: I am not going to say anything more at all about it!
BLANCHE: All right, then, don't!
STELLA: But there are things that happen between a man and a woman in the dark—that sort of make everything else seem—unimportant…
[Pause.]
BLANCHE: What you are talking about is brutal desire—just—Desire!—the name of that rattle-trap streetcar that bangs through the Quarter, up one old narrow street and down another....
STELLA: Haven't you ever ridden on that streetcar?
BLANCHE: It brought me here.—Where I'm not wanted and where I'm ashamed to be....
STELLA: Then don't you think your superior attitude is a bit out of place?
BLANCHE: I am not being or feeling at all superior, Stella. Believe me I'm not! It's just this. This is how I look at it. A man like that is someone to go out with—once—twice—three times when the devil is in you. But live with? Have a child by?
STELLA: I have told you I love him.
BLANCHE: Then I tremble for you! I just—tremble for you....
STELLA: I can't help your trembling if you insist on trembling!
[There is a pause.]
BLANCHE: May I—speak—plainly?
STELLA: Yes, do. Go ahead. As plainly as you want to.
[Outside, a train approaches. They are silent till the noise subsides. They are both in the bedroom.
Under cover of the train's noise Stanley enters from outside. He stands unseen by the women, holding some packages in his arms, and overhears their following conversation. He wears an undershirt and grease-stained seersucker pants.]
BLANCHE: Well—if you'll forgive me—he's common!
STELLA: Why, yes, I suppose he is.
BLANCHE: Suppose! You can't have forgotten that much of our bringing up, Stella, that you just suppose that any part of a gentleman's in his nature! Not one particle, no! Oh, if he was just—ordinary! Just plain—but good and wholesome, but—no. There's something downright—bestial—about him! You're hating me saying this, aren't you?
STELLA [coldly]: Go on and say it all, Blanche.
BLANCHE: He acts like an animal, has an animal's habits! Eats like one, moves like one, talks like one! There's even something—sub-human—something not quite to the stage of humanity yet! Yes, something—ape-like about him, like one of those pictures I've seen in—anthropological studies! Thousands and thousands of years have passed him right by, and there he is—Stanley Kowalski—survivor of the stone age! Bearing the raw meat home from the kill in the jungle! And you—you here—waiting for him! Maybe he'll strike you or maybe grunt and kiss you! That is, if kisses have been discovered yet! Night falls and the other apes gather! There in the front of the cave, all grunting like him, and swilling and gnawing and hulking! His poker night!—you call it—this party of apes! Somebody growls—some creature snatches at something—the fight is on! God! Maybe we are a long way from being made in God's image, but Stella—my sister—there has been some progress since then! Such things as art—as poetry and music—such kinds of new light have come into the world since then! In some kinds of people some tenderer feelings have had some little beginning! That we have got to make grow! And cling to, and hold as our flag! In this dark march toward whatever it is we're approaching.... Don't—don't hang back with the brutes!
[Another train passes outside. Stanley hesitates, licking his lips. Then suddenly he turns stealthily about and withdraws through front door. The women are still unaware of his presence. When the train has passed he calls through the closed front door.]
STANLEY: Hey! Hey, Stella!
STELLA [who has listened gravely to Blanche]: Stanley!
BLANCHE: Stell, I
[But Stella has gone to the front door. Stanley enters casually with his packages.]
STANLEY: Hiyuh, Stella. Blanche back?
STELLA: Yes, she's back.
STANLEY: Hiyuh, Blanche.
[He grins at her.]
STELLA: You must've got under the car.
STANLEY: Them dam mechanics at Fritz's don't know their ass fr'm—Hey!
[Stella has embraced him—with both arms, fiercely, and full in the view of Blanche. He laughs and clasps her head to him. Over her head he grins through the curtains at Blanche.]
[As the lights fade away, with a lingering brightness on their embrace, the music of the "blue piano" and trumpet and drums is heard.]
SCENE FIVE
Blanche is seated in the bedroom fanning herself with a palm leaf as she reads over a just completed letter. Suddenly she bursts into a peal of laughter. Stella is dressing in the bedroom.
STELLA: What are you laughing at, honey?
BLANCHE: Myself, myself, for being such a liar! I'm writing a letter to Shep.
[She picks up the letter]
"Darling Shep. I am spending the summer on the wing, making flying visits here and there. And who knows, perhaps I shall take a sudden notion to swoop down on Dallas! How would you feel about that? Ha-ha!
[She laughs nervously and brightly, touching her throat as if actually talking to Shep]
Forewarned is forearmed, as they say!"—How does that sound?
STELLA: Uh-huh...
BLANCHE [going on nervously]: "Most of my sister's friends go north in the summer but some have homes on the Gulf and there has been a continued round of entertainments, teas, cocktails, and luncheons—"
[A disturbance is heard upstairs at the Hubbells' apartment.]
STELLA: Eunice seems to be having some trouble with Steve.
[Eunice's voice shouts in terrible wrath.]
EUNICE: I heard about you and that blonde!
STEVE: That's a damn lie!
br /> EUNICE: You ain't pulling the wool over my eyes! I wouldn't mind if you'd stay down at the Four Deuces, but you always going up.
STEVE: Who ever seen me up?
EUNICE: I seen you chasing her 'round the balcony—I'm gonna call the vice squad!
STEVE: Don't you throw that at me!
EUNICE [shrieking]: You hit me! I'm gonna call the police!
[A clatter of aluminum striking a wall is heard, followed by a man's angry roar, shouts and overturned furniture. There is a crash; then a relative hush.]
BLANCHE [brightly]: Did he kill her?
[Eunice appears on the steps in daemonic disorder.]
STELLA: No! She's coming downstairs.
EUNICE: Call the police. I'm going to call the police!
[She rushes around the corner.]
[They laugh lightly. Stanley comes around the corner in his green-and-scarlet silk bowling shirt. He trots up the steps and bangs into the kitchen. Blanche registers his entrance with nervous gestures.]
STANLEY: What's a matter with Eun-uss?
STELLA: She and Steve had a row. Has she got the police?
STANLEY: Naw. She's gettin' a drink.
STELLA: That's much more practical!
[Steve comes down nursing a bruise on his forehead and looks in the door.]
STEVE: She here?
STANLEY: Naw, naw. At the Four Deuces.
STEVE: That rutting hunk!
[He looks around the corner a bit timidly, then turns with affected boldness and runs after her.]
BLANCHE: I must jot that down in my notebook. Ha-ha! I'm compiling a notebook of quaint little words and phrases I've picked up here.
STANLEY: You won't pick up nothing here you ain't heard before.
BLANCHE: Can I count on that?
STANLEY: You can count on it up to five hundred.
BLANCHE: That's a mighty high number.
[He jerks open the bureau drawer, slams it shut and throws shoes in a corner. At each noise Blanche winces slightly. Finally she speaks]
What sign were you born under?
STANLEY [while he is dressing]: Sign?
BLANCHE: Astrological sign. I bet you were born under Aries. Aries people are forceful and dynamic. They dote on noise! They love to bang things around! You must have had lots of banging around in the army and now that you're out, you make up for it by treating inanimate objects with such a fury!
[Stella has been going in and out of closet during this scene. Now she pops her head out of the closet.]
STELLA: Stanley was born just five minutes after Christmas.
BLANCHE: Capricorn—the Goat!
STANLEY: What sign were you born under?
BLANCHE: Oh, my birthday's next month, the fifteenth of September; that's under Virgo.
STANLEY: What's Virgo?
BLANCHE: Virgo is the Virgin.
STANLEY [contemptuously]: Hah!
[He advances a little as he knots his tie]
Say, do you happen to know somebody named Shaw?
[Her face expresses a faint shock. She reaches for the cologne bottle and dampens her handkerchief as she answers carefully.]
BLANCHE: Why, everybody knows somebody named Shaw!
STANLEY: Well, this somebody named Shaw is under the impression he met you in Laurel, but I figure he must have got you mixed up with some other party because this other party is someone he met at a hotel called the Flamingo.
[Blanche laughs breathlessly as she touches the cologne-dampened handkerchief to her temples.]
BLANCHE: I'm afraid he does have me mixed up with this "other party." The Hotel Flamingo is not the sort of establishment I would dare to be seen in!
STANLEY: You know of it?
BLANCHE: Yes, I've seen it and smelled it
STANLEY: You must've got pretty close if you could smell it
BLANCHE: The odor of cheap perfume is penetrating.
STANLEY: That stuff you use is expensive?
BLANCHE: Twenty-five dollars an ounce! I'm nearly out. That's just a hint if you want to remember my birthday!
[She speaks lightly but her voice has a note of fear.]
STANLEY: Shaw must've got you mixed up. He goes in and out of Laurel all the time so he can check on it and clear up any mistake.
[He turns away and crosses to the portieres. Blanche closes her eyes as if faint.
Her hand trembles as she lifts the handkerchief again to her forehead.]
[Steve and Eunice come around corner. Steve's arm is around Eunice's shoulder and she is sobbing luxuriously and he is cooing love-words. There is a murmur of thunder as they go slowly upstairs in a tight embrace.]
STANLEY [to Stella]: I'll wait for you at the Four Deuces!
STELLA: Hey! Don't I rate one kiss?
STANLEY: Not in front of your sister.
[He goes out. Blanche rises from her chair. She seems faint; looks about her with an expression of almost panic.]
BLANCHE: Stella! What have you heard about me?
STELLA: Huh?
BLANCHE: What have people been telling you about me?
STELLA: Telling?
BLANCHE: You haven't heard any—unkind—gossip about me?
STELLA: Why, no, Blanche, of course not!
BLANCHE: Honey, there was—a good deal of talk in Laurel.
STELLA: About you, Blanche?
BLANCHE: I wasn't so good the last two years or so, after Belle Reve had started to slip through my fingers.
STELLA: All of us do things we—
BLANCHE: I never was hard or sell-sufficient enough. When people are soft—soft people have got to shimmer and glow—they've got to put on soft colors, the colors of butterfly wings, and put a—paper lantern over the light.... It isn't enough to be soft. You've got to be soft and attractive. And I—I'm fading now! I don't know how much longer I can turn the trick.
[The afternoon has faded to dusk. Stella goes into the bedroom and turns on the light under the paper lantern. She holds a bottled soft drink in her hand.]
BLANCHE: Have you been listening to me?
STELLA: I don't listen to you when you are being morbid!
[She advances with the bottled coke.]
BLANCHE [with abrupt change to gaiety]: Is that coke for me?
STELLA: Not for anyone else!
BLANCHE: Why, you precious thing, you! Is it just coke?
STELLA [turning]: You mean you want a shot in it!
BLANCHE: Well, honey, a shot never does a coke any harm! Let me! You mustn't wait on me!
STELLA: I like to wait on you, Blanche. It makes it seem more like home.
[She goes into the kitchen, finds a glass and pours a shot of whiskey into it.]
BLANCHE: I have to admit I love to be waited on....
[She rushes into the bedroom. Stella goes to her with the glass. Blanche suddenly clutches Stella's free hand with a moaning sound and presses the hand to her lips. Stella is embarrassed by her show of emotion. Blanche speaks in a choked voice.]
You're—you're—so good to me! And I—
STELLA: Blanche.
BLANCHE: I know, I won't! You hate me to talk sentimental! But honey, believe I feel things more than I tell you! I won't stay long! I won't, I promise I—
STELLA: Blanche!
BLANCHE [hysterically]: I won't, I promise, I'll go! Go soon! I will really! I won't hang around until he—throws me out...
STELLA: Now will you stop talking foolish?
BLANCHE: Yes, honey. Watch how you pour—that fizzy stuff foams over!
[Blanche laughs shrilly and grabs the glass, but her hand shakes so it almost slips from her grasp. Stella pours the coke into the glass. It foams over and spills. Blanche gives a piercing cry.]
STELLA [shocked by the cry]: Heavens!
BLANCHE: Right on my pretty white skirt!
STELLA: Oh... Use my hanky. Blot gently.
BLANCHE [slowly recovering]: I know—gently—gently...
STELLA: Did it stain?
&
nbsp; BLANCHE: Not a bit. Ha-ha! Isn't that lucky?