This collection first published in 2016 by Oberon Books Ltd

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      Copyright © Howard Barker, 2016

      Howard Barker is hereby identified as author of these plays in accordance with section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. The author has asserted his moral rights.

      All rights whatsoever in this play are strictly reserved and application for performance etc. should be made before commencement of rehearsal to Judy Daish Associates Ltd, 2 St Charles Place, London W10 6EG. No performance may be given unless a licence has been obtained, and no alterations may be made in the title or the text of the play without the author’s prior written consent.

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      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

      PB ISBN: 9781783193110

      E ISBN: 9781783193127

      Cover photography by Eduardo Houth.

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      Contents

       Harrowing And Uplifting Interviews

       In The Cloth Cathedral

       In The Depths Of Dead Love

       More No Still

HARROWING AND UPLIFTING INTERVIEWS WITH RANDOMLY SELECTED VICTIMS OF THE IMPERIAL WILL

      Characters

      WARDROBE

      A Young Musician

      BIBLE

      A Young Poet

      SISI

      A Loved One

      THRASH

      An Old Woman

      ENGINE

      An Old Captain

      SOLDIER

      A Conscript

      1

      A wretched hut on the frontier. A canvas bed. A YOUTH runs in, naked and wild-eyed. He drags behind him vast photographs with which, flinging himself down, he ineffectively covers himself.

      BIBLE: She sends me cunt / she sends me arse / she sends me cunt and arse pictures / and I / oh I /

      (He is still. He stares out. A wind moans. At a distance, a bugle sounds.)

      required her face to gaze on me / her hair severe / those lowered eyes / and on her lips a prayer / so I / when I lie here / I know somewhere /

      (He is still as before. He frowns hugely.)

      SHE SENDS ME CUNT AND ARSE PICTURES /

      (The wind. He stares out. A cascade of boots, flung by invisible antagonists, causes him to shrink. The boots cease. BIBLE stares out. A violin is sent skimming over the floor. The wind. The distant bugle. An OLD WOMAN enters and squats on her heels. She gazes at the floor. She is an image of patience, endurance, antiquity.)

      You are not the solution /

      (THRASH ignores him.)

      YOU STINK / YOU STINK AND YOU ARE NOT THE SOLUTION /

      (A SECOND YOUTH enters, in formal dress. A violin bow limply in his fingers. He frowns, his shoulders droop.)

      WARDROBE: Pigs are nearly everybody / and those not pigs / are bears /

      (BIBLE spontaneously and bitterly weeps.)

      It is / is it not? / profoundly melancholy / not to say grotesque / I am so sparing in my language / and reserve some words / for worse things may need naming that are yet to occur / melancholy / melancholy therefore / that I / by unanimous consent the most prodigiously gifted musician of his generation / and here again I shrink from hyperbole in my choice of words / should be coerced / invited / invited or coerced / these distinctions are debatable / into consuming his most critical and impressionable years performing / not in the provinces / not in some sordid city whose bickering and mediocre orchestra might blunt his sensibilities / but on this frozen frontier which / if the world knows anything of it / knows it to be the most wretched place on earth /

      (BIBLE emits a profound sob.)

      And worse / if worse were conceivable / performing to an audience of / oh / be wary / Wardrobe / be wary of your words / AN AUDIENCE OF PIGS AND BEARS /

      (A boot flies in.)

      Yes / yes /

      (Followed by others.)

      Oh yes / notwithstanding the specious argument / so routinely rehearsed /

      (A rain of boots.)

      That genius can only benefit from exposure to ignorance / on the contrary /

      (BIBLE wails. The boots fly.)

      THIS IS DAMAGING ME BEYOND REPAIR /

      (The boots cease. BIBLE snorts. WARDROBE stares at the floor. The wind blows. The OLD WOMAN squats.)

      Fuck me / mother / fuck or whip me / I don’t care /

      (BIBLE, horrified, turns his back on the prospect. The OLD WOMAN ignores WARDROBE.)

      FUCK / FUCK WITH ME / I SAID

      (The wind blows. The floor creaks. WARDROBE retrieves the violin. The bridge hangs loose in the tangled strings.)

      I had a dread / at eighteen months / a dread / do infants dread? / I dreaded / and to describe this dread as something less / an intuition / or an apprehension / would be to wilfully diminish it / no / I dreaded / I dreaded the failure of the world /

      (He launches the wrecked violin against a wall.)

      TO SATISFY MY EXPECTATIONS /

      (He is still. He is judicious.)

      And a dread is not / let us distinguish these conditions / simply a powerful anxiety / it is /

      (He frowns.)

      Informed /

      (He goes to the OLD WOMAN. He places his hands on her shoulders.)

      It is / as opposed to superstition / innate knowledge / dread does not guess / it knows /

      (He leans over THRASH, and inhales deeply.)

      You stink / you stink / and probably you are the solution /

      (He