The Tell-Tale Heart - Script

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THE TELL-TALE HEART

by Edgar Allan Poe
1843

I can’t recall how the idea entered my mind; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. I loved the old man. He never wronged me, never insulted me and desired nothing of him. It was his eye! Yes, his eye! He had the eye of a vulture. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees, I decided to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of him forever.

Oh, you should have seen me! How wisely, with such force and careful calculation I planned it! Every night, at midnight, I turned the knob of his door and opened it, so gently! Oh, you would have admired my cunning. I moved slowly, so slowly. When I was well inside the room, I let the light fall on the vulture eye, but it was closed. I was never kinder to the old man in that way before I killed him. Every morning, I boldly went into his room and inquired after him:

-'Good morning, did you sleep well?'

- 'I’m not bad, my friend, not bad.'

' He suspected nothing.'

On the eighth night I was more than usually cautious. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than I did. Upon never before life I had the triumph of my powers.

It’s open.    -'Who's there?'     Wide open.        -'Who's there?'

I kept quite still in the darkness. For an hour I didn’t move a muscle. He’s trying to comfort himself. The strait swells in his chest, and then I heard it, a dull quick sound like a watch enveloping gun.  It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum draws the soldier into courage.

His eye would trouble me no more.

If took wise precautions for the disposal of the body.

What have I to fear?

-'Sorry to disturb you Sir, but a neighbor’s reported a shriek.'

- 'Shriek?'      
-' A shriek.'

-'Oh, that was my own nightmare, you see?'

- 'I see.'            
-'Come in.'

I bade them search --search well. There was nothing to fear, no clues anywhere. I led them into his chamber. I bade them some tea.

-'Tea?'

-'It’d be very nice Sir, thank you.'

- 'Two sugars, thank you.'

-'Oh, butterflies. I’ll write that down.'

-'The Virgin Mary.'

-'Here are the posters, another pomping folk.'

- 'This candelabra is covered in dust but it’s been moved.'

-'Covered in dust.'     
- 'But moved.' 
- 'But moved.' 
–'Put that down.'
- 'Please sit.'    
- 'Thank you.'

In the enthusiasm of confidence, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, I placed the chair above the spot beneath which the corpse laid.

-'How long have you lived here?'   
- 'Ten years, least.'   
-'And the gentleman?'

-'Oh yeah! He’s a widower, you see? He prefers lodgers rather than keep the house.'

-'Mister Hodge prefers to lodge?'  
- 'Very nice place it is.'   
-'Aye, very nice.'

Suddenly a deep fatigue sweat over me.  My head began to ache, there was a ringing in my ears: it became more distinct. That tapping sound.

-'When did you say the gentleman left?'  
-'I didn’t say.'  
-'When did he leave then?'

-'Not sure.'   
-'You’re not sure?'   
-'I didn’t say.'

No doubt I grew pale; the sound increased -- what could I do? Was it possible they didn’t hear it?  'Sir?'. They mocked me. 'Nice tea'. Anything was more tolerable than this derision! It grew louder! And louder! And louder!

I admit it! I can’t stand this mock any moment longer. You are the villains for your deceit. I can’t stand it! It’s the beating of his hideous heart.

Thereby hangs my turn

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