Not I is a short dramatic monologue written in 1972 (March 20 to April 1) by Samuel Beckett, translated as Pas Moi; premiere at the "Samuel Beckett Festival" by the Repertory Theater of Lincoln Center, New York (22 November 1972), directed by Alan Schneider, with Jessica Tandy (Mouth) and Henderson Forsythe (Auditor).
Not I takes place in a pitch-black space illuminated only by a single beam of light. This spotlight fixes on an actress's mouth about eight feet above the stage, everything else being blacked out and, in early performances, illuminates the shadowy figure of the Auditor who makes four increasingly ineffectual movements "of helpless compassion" during brief breaks in the monologue where Mouth appears to be listening to some inner voice unheard by the audience.
The mouth utters jumbled sentences at a ferocious pace, which obliquely tell the story of a woman of about seventy who was abandoned by her parents after a premature birth and has lived a loveless, mechanical existence, and who appears to have suffered an unspecified traumatic experience. The woman has been virtually mute since childhood apart from occasional outbursts, one of which comprises the text we hear. From the text it could be inferred that the woman had been raped but this is something Beckett was very clear about when asked. "How could you think of such a thing! No, no, not at all—it wasn’t that at all." It seems more likely that she has suffered some kind of collapse, possibly even her death, while "wandering in a field … looking aimlessly for cowslips."
Who will mourn you when you die?
And cry and cry
Who will mourn you when you die?
Not I, not I
Who will go inside your house?
And moan and moan
Who will keep your memory close?
Not I, not I
Who will take your soul to keep?
And pray and pray
Who will feel the sorrow deep?
Not I, not I
Who will walk in the parade?
And sing and sing
Who will light a candle flame?
Not I, not I
Who will throw a fist of dirt?
On you on you
Who can wash away the hurt?
Not I, not I
Who will dance upon your grave?
A crowd, a crowd
Who will stand still on your grave?
Not I, not I
Who will ring the devil’s bell?
In shame, in shame
He’s the one who’ll say your name