Waiting for Godot
Waiting for Godot Samuel Beckett A country road. A tree. Evening. Nothing to be done. True. ( He buttons his fly. ) Never neglect the little things of life. Sometimes I feel it coming all the same. Then I go all queer. ( He takes off his hat, peers inside it, feels about inside it, shakes it, puts it on again. ) How shall I say? Relieved and at the same time . . . ( he searches for the word ) . . . appalled. ( With emphasis. ) AP-PALLED. ( He takes off his hat again, peers inside it. ) Funny. ( He knocks on the crown as though to dislodge a foreign body, peers into it again, puts it on again. ) Nothing to be done. ( Estragon with a supreme effort succeeds in pulling off his boot. He peers inside it, feels about inside it, turns it upside down, shakes it, looks on the ground to see if anything has fallen out, finds nothing, feels inside it again, staring sightlessly before him. ) Well? There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the faults of his feet...