Free Complete Works, Volume IV by Harold Pinter Page A

wasted their bloody youth there. The people who live there, their faces are grey, they’re in a state of despair, but nobody pays any attention, you see. All people are worried about is their illgotten gains. I wrote to The Times about it. Life At A Dead End, I called it. Went for nothing. Anyway, I told him that probably the best thing he could do was to forget the whole idea of getting to Bolsover Street. I remember saying to him: This trip you’ve got in mind, drop it, it could prove fatal. But he said he had to deliver a parcel. Anyway, I took all this trouble with him because he had a nice open face. He looked like a man who would always do good to others himself. Normally I wouldn’t give a fuck. I should tell you he’ll deny this account. His story will be different.
    Spooner places the lid on his plate.
    Briggs pours champagne into Spooner’s glass.
    When did you last have champagne for breakfast?
    SPOONER Well, to be quite honest, I’m a champagne drinker.
    BRIGGS Oh, are you?
    SPOONER I know my wines.( He drinks. ) Dijon. In the thirties. I made many trips to Dijon, for the wine tasting, with my French translator. Even after his death, I continued to go to Dijon, until I could go no longer.
    Pause.
    Hugo. A good companion.
    Pause.
    You will wonder of course what he translated. The answer is my verse. I am a poet.
    Pause.
    BRIGGS I thought poets were young.
    SPOONER I am young.( He reaches for the bottle. ) Can I help you to a glass?
    BRIGGS No, thank you.
    Spooner examines the bottle.
    SPOONER An excellent choice.
    BRIGGS Not mine.
    SPOONER ( pouring ) Translating verse is an extremely difficult task. Only the Rumanians remain respectable exponents of the craft.
    BRIGGS Bit early in the morning for all this, isn’t it?
    Spooner drinks.
    Finish the bottle. Doctor’s orders.
    SPOONER Can I enquire as to why I was locked in this room, by the way?
    BRIGGS Doctor’s orders.
    Pause.
    Tell me when you’re ready for coffee.
    Pause.
    It must be wonderful to be a poet and to have admirers. And translators. And to be young. I’m neither one nor the other.
    SPOONER Yes. You’ve reminded me. I must be off. I have a meeting at twelve. Thank you so much for breakfast.
    BRIGGS What meeting?
    SPOONER A board meeting. I’m on the board of a recently inaugurated poetry magazine. We have our first meeting at twelve. Can’t be late.
    BRIGGS Where’s the meeting?
    SPOONER At The Bull’s Head in Chalk Farm. The landlord is kindly allowing us the use of a private room on the first floor. It is essential that the meeting be private, you see, as we shall be discussing policy.
    BRIGGS The Bull’s Head in Chalk Farm?
    SPOONER Yes. The landlord is a friend of mine. It is on that account that he has favoured us with a private room. It is true of course that I informed him Lord Lancer would be attending the meeting. He at once appreciated that a certain degree of sequesteredness would be the order of the day.
    BRIGGS Lord Lancer?
    SPOONER Our patron.
    BRIGGS He’s not one of the Bengal Lancers, is he?
    SPOONER No, no. He’s of Norman descent.
    BRIGGS A man of culture?
    SPOONER Impeccable credentials.
    BRIGGS Some of these aristocrats hate the arts.
    SPOONER Lord Lancer is a man of honour. He loves the arts. He has declared this love in public. He never goes back on his word. But I must be off. Lord Lancer does not subscribe to the view that poets can treat time with nonchalance.
    BRIGGS Jack could do with a patron.
    SPOONER Jack?
    BRIGGS He’s a poet.
    SPOONER A poet? Really? Well, if he’d like to send me some examples of his work, double spaced on quarto, with copies in a separate folder by separate post in case of loss or misappropriation, stamped addressed envelope enclosed, I’ll read them.
    BRIGGS That’s very nice of you.
    SPOONER Not at all. You can tell him he can look forward to a scrupulously honest and, if I may say so, highly sensitive