Barker - Barker: Plays Five

ELLA: We found God after all Thinking He had disappeared DORA: He had not disappeared We found Him after all Like the vagrant under the wall He was only out of sight ELLA: And He stood up in the light Of all our shame and said In the beam of our shame Rubbed His eyes and said DORA: I am not dead I am the Public ELLA: To me the heretics will DORA: I am not dead I am the Public ELLA: And the transgressors DORA: Genuflect ELLA: The incurably deviant DORA: Adore ELLA: The breakers of vows DORA: Applaud ELLA: The habitually glum DORA/ELLA: LAUGH YOU BASTARD, THIS IS MY CREATION, LAUGH.

DORA: Did you think Id died with religion? Did you think I would succumb? I have endured worse winters Under the arches entertained the louse ELLA: Quitting the cathedral in the night DORA: God the Public needs no house ELLA: And the sexually active bishops DORA: The theologians with radio technique ELLA: The fathers of gifted children DORA: The rock musicians with castles ELLA: The summer school students in states of undress DORA: The carnival organizers ELLA: The sweet-natured pickpockets DORA: Shop stewards red-eyed in the billiard hall ELLA: Popes and Mercenaries all DORA: Concurred ELLA: The Public We The Public We The Public Had to be God DORA: Since God had to be DORA/ELLA: APPLAUD YOU BASTARDS! (The terrible sound of laughter.)

IVORY: I bring you an invitation Oh, no, she says, not an invitation Yes We are all so afraid Yes An invitation to hang up the SUFFOCATING OVERCOAT OF COMMUNICATION Hang it up And those with biros write upon your wrist THE PLAY CONTAINS NO INFORMATION Arent you tired of journalists? Oh, arent you tired of journalists? No one will hold your hand tonight Nor oil you with humour As the swimmer is greased to pass through Water quicker No When the poem became easy it also became poor When art became mechanized it became an addiction I lecture! Oh, I lecture you! (A terrible storm of laughter.) Forgive! Forgive! A FIGURE asleep in a hammock. An engine labouring. A WOMAN enters. MARYA: Im still insane. Obviously insane as ever. (The train passes.) Goodbye you male scum! Goodbye you meat and gristle! (She bares her breasts.

A MAN enters, watches her. The wheels fade.) ARNOLD: You shout at all the trains. You smear your breasts on all the windows. Goodbye you male scum! But how dedicated you are at the hospitals. Meeting the ambulances and wiping the broken bodies. Now, this is his influence.

Isnt it? Your influence? (The FIGURE is still.) Pretend to be asleep. But I say its your influence. YOU HAVE NO DESIRE TO CURE ANYBODY. Sleep on, sleep on. (IVORY enters.) Cunt! IVORY: Let him sleep. ARNOLD: Sleep? How can anyone sleep in the current state of things? We can only pretend, just as he is now pretending.

He is fictive, arent you? Fictive! IVORY: We know he is fictive. ARNOLD: We know it, but does he? Sleep is for times of stability. Even gardening has become impossible. Why do you say? IVORY: No, I didnt say. ARNOLD: Because it is absurd to plant what will never be allowed to nourish. I know you say plant anyway.

Plant, and if it is trodden down, plant again. I have heard him say that. MARYA: Plant, and even though armies trample fifty gardens one they will miss and there you may shelter. ARNOLD: I have heard that IVORY: Often ARNOLD: Often I have heard that, but it is fictive, isnt it? Like all he says. WAKE UP YOU UTTER CUNT. (They look at ARNOLD.) It so happens I require your fictiveness.

CUNT, WAKE UP. (He stares at the hammock and its occupant. The sound of desolation fills the stage