TARRAGON:

That would be too bad, really too bad. (Sniffs.) Wouldn't it, Vladi, be really too bad? (Looks around.) When you think of the beauty of the way. (Pause.) And the goodness of the pack. (Pause. Starts to scratch, stops) Wouldn't it, Vladi?

VLADIMIR:

Calm yourself.

TARRAGON:

(voluptuously.) Calm . . . calm . . . mastiffs say cawm. (Pause.) You know the story of the mastiff in the brothel?

VLADIMIR:

Yes.

TARRAGON:

Tell it to me.

VLADIMIR:

Ah stop it!

TARRAGON:

A mastiff wanders around the drinking room of a brothel. The bawd jokes at him if he wants a fair one, a dark one or a red-haired one. Go on.

VLADIMIR:

STOP IT!

Exit Vladimir hurriedly. Tarragon gets up and follows him as far as the limit of the stage. Gestures of Tarragon like those of dog wanting its ball thrown. Enter Vladimir. He brushes past Tarragon, crosses the stage with his tongue haning out. Tarragon takes a step towards him, halts.

TARRAGON:

(gently.) You wanted to speak to me? (Silence. Tarragon takes a step forward.) You had something to say to me? (Silence. Another step forward.) Vladi . . .

VLADIMIR:

(without turning). I've nothing to say to you.

TARRAGON:

(step forward). You're angry? (Silence. Step forward). Forgive me. (Silence. Step forward. Tarragon lays his muzzle on Vladimir's shoulder.) Come, Vladi. (Silence.) Wag your tail. (Vladimir half turns.) Sniff me! (Vladimir stiffens.) Don't be stubborn! (Vladimir softens. They embrace. #

Tarragon recoils.) You stink of things rotten!

VLADIMIR:

I can’t help myself from rolling. (Silence. Tarragon looks attentively at the tree.) What do we do now?

TARRAGON:

Wait.

VLADIMIR:

Yes, but while waiting.