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The Well of the Saints, a play by J. M. Synge |
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Act 1 |
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_ ACT I [Roadside with big stones, etc., on the right; low loose wall at back with gap near centre; at left, ruined doorway of church with bushes beside it. Martin Doul and Mary Doul grope in on left and pass over to stones on right, where they sit.] MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL. MARY DOUL The length of that! Well, the sun's getting warm this day if it's late autumn itself. MARTIN DOUL What way wouldn't it be warm and it getting high up in the south? You were that length plaiting your yellow hair you have the morning lost on us, and the people are after passing to the fair of Clash. MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL If I didn't talk I'd be destroyed in a short while listening to the clack you do be making, for you've a queer cracked voice, the Lord have mercy on you, if it's fine to look on you are itself. MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL I do be thinking odd times we don't know rightly what way you have your splendour, or asking myself, maybe, if you have it at all, for the time I was a young lad, and had fine sight, it was the ones with sweet voices were the best in face. MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL If it was itself I heard Molly Byrne saying at the fall of night it was little more than a fright you were. MARY DOUL She was jealous, God forgive her, because Timmy the smith was after praising my hair. MARTIN DOUL Jealous! MARY DOUL. [She puts her hand to her face with a complacent gesture.] MARTIN DOUL I do be thinking in the long nights it'd be a grand thing if we could see ourselves for one hour, or a minute itself, the way we'd know surely we were the finest man and the finest woman of the seven counties of the east (bitterly) and then the seeing rabble below might be destroying their souls telling bad lies, and we'd never heed a thing they'd say. MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL. (Speaking pensively.) MARY DOUL Let you not be minding if it's flat or rounded she is; for she's a flighty, foolish woman, you'll hear when you're off a long way, and she making a great noise and laughing at the well. MARTIN DOUL. MARY DOUL A nice thing is it? A nice thing to hear a woman making a loud braying laugh the like of that? Ah, she's a great one for drawing the men, and you'll hear Timmy himself, the time he does be sitting in his forge, getting mighty fussy if she'll come walking from Grianan, the way you'll hear his breath going, and he wringing his hands. MARTIN DOUL I've heard him say a power of times it's nothing at all she is when you see her at the side of you, and yet I never heard any man's breath getting uneasy the time he'd be looking on yourself. MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL It's the truth, maybe, and yet I'm told it's a grand thing to see a young girl walking the road. MARY DOUL. [A moment's pause.] MARTIN DOUL There's some one coming on the road. MARY DOUL. [They bundle away the rushes. Timmy the smith comes in on left.] MARTIN DOUL Leave a bit of silver for blind Martin, your honour. Leave a bit of silver, or a penny copper itself, and we'll be praying the Lord to bless you and you going the way. TIMMY And you letting on a while back you knew my step! [He sits down.] MARTIN I know it when Molly Byrne's walking in front, or when she's two perches, maybe, lagging behind; but it's few times I've heard you walking up the like of that, as if you'd met a thing wasn't right and you coming on the road. TIMMY You've good ears, God bless you, if you're a liar itself; for I'm after walking up in great haste from hearing wonders in the fair. MARTIN DOUL You're always hearing queer wonderful things, and the lot of them nothing at all; but I'm thinking, this time, it's a strange thing surely you'd be walking up before the turn of day, and not waiting below to look on them lepping, or dancing, or playing shows on the green of Clash. TIMMY I was coming to tell you it's in this place there'd be a bigger wonder done in a short while (Martin Doul stops working) MARTIN DOUL There'll be wonders in this place, is it? TIMMY. MARTIN DOUL. TIMMY. MARTIN DOUL Are they putting up a still behind in the rocks? It'd be a grand thing if I'd sup handy the way I wouldn't be destroying myself groping up across the bogs in the rain falling. TIMMY It's not a still they're bringing, or the like of it either. MARY DOUL Maybe they're hanging a thief, above at the bit of a tree. I'm told it's a great sight to see a man hanging by his neck; but what joy would that be to ourselves, and we not seeing it at all? TIMMY They're hanging no one this day, Mary Doul, and yet, with the help of God, you'll see a power hanged before you die. MARY DOUL. TIMMY. MARY DOUL. TIMMY There's a green ferny well, I'm told, behind of that place, and if you put a drop of the water out of it on the eyes of a blind man, you'll make him see as well as any person is walking the world. MARTIN DOUL Is that the truth, Timmy? I'm thinking you're telling a lie. TIMMY That's the truth, Martin Doul, and you may believe it now, for you're after believing a power of things weren't as likely at all. MARY DOUL. TIMMY. MARTIN DOUL It'd be a long terrible way to be walking ourselves, and I'm thinking that's a wonder will bring small joy to us at all. TIMMY What is it you want with your walking? It's as deaf as blind you're growing if you're not after hearing me say it's in this place the wonder would be done. MARTIN DOUL If it is can't you open the big slobbering mouth you have and say what way it'll be done, and not be making blather till the fall of night. TIMMY I'll be going on now (Mary Doul rises), and not wasting time talking civil talk with the like of you. MARY DOUL Let you come here to me, Timmy, and not be minding him at all. [Timmy stops, and she gropes up to him and takes him by the coat.] TIMMY. MARY DOUL. TIMMY It's a fine holy man will bring it, a saint of the Almighty God. MARY DOUL A saint is it? TIMMY. MARTIN DOUL What place is he, Timmy? I'll be walking to him now. TIMMY. MARTIN DOUL And we'll be seeing ourselves this day. Oh, glory be to God, is it true surely? MARY DOUL Maybe I'd have time to walk down and get the big shawl I have below, for I do look my best, I've heard them say, when I'm dressed up with that thing on my head. TIMMY. MARTIN DOUL Whisht now.... I hear people again coming by the stream. TIMMY It's the young girls I left walking after the Saint.... They're coming now MARTIN DOUL That's Molly Byrne, I'm thinking. [Molly Byrne and Bride come on left and cross to Martin Doul, carrying water-can, Saint's bell, and cloak.] MOLLY God bless you, Martin. I've holy water here, from the grave of the four saints of the west, will have you cured in a short while and seeing like ourselves. TIMMY He's heard that. God help you. But where at all is the Saint, and what way is he after trusting the holy water with the likes of you? MOLLY BYRNE. TIMMY And he's after leaving the holy water with the two of you? It's a wonder, surely. [Comes down left a little.] MOLLY BYRNE. [Mary Doul goes near seat.] MARY DOUL Well, the Saint's a simple fellow, and it's no lie. MARTIN DOUL Let you give me the water in my hand, Molly Byrne, the way I'll know you have it surely. MOLLY BYRNE Wonders is queer things, and maybe it'd cure you, and you holding it alone. MARTIN DOUL It does not, Molly. I'm not seeing at all. (He shakes the can.) [He feels for Mary Doul and gives her the can.] MARY DOUL Well, glory be to God. MARTIN DOUL And what is it herself has, making sounds in her hand? BRIDE It's the Saint's bell; you'll hear him ringing out the time he'll be going up some place, to be saying his prayers.
MARTIN DOUL It's a sweet, beautiful sound. MARY DOUL. [Bride crosses a little right behind Martin Doul.] MOLLY BYRNE Let you stand up now, Martin Doul, till I put his big cloak on you. (Martin Doul rises, comes forward, centre a little.) MARTIN DOUL I've heard the priests a power of times making great talk and praises of the beauty of the saints. [Molly Byrne slips cloak round him.] TIMMY You'd have a right to be leaving him alone, Molly. What would the Saint say if he seen you making game with his cloak? MOLLY BYRNE How would he see us, and he saying prayers in the wood? (She turns Martin Doul round.) (Laughing foolishly.) MARY DOUL It's proud we'll be this day, surely. [Martin Doul is still ringing.] MOLLY BYRNE Would you think well to be all your life walking round the like of that, Martin Doul, and you bell-ringing with the saints of God? MARY DOUL How would he be bell-ringing with the saints of God and he wedded with myself? MARTIN DOUL. MOLLY BYRNE You're thinking that, God help you; but it's little you know of her at all. MARTIN DOUL. TIMMY It's well you know the way she is; for the like of you do have great knowledge in the feeling of your hands. MARTIN DOUL We do, maybe. Yet it's little I know of faces, or of fine beautiful cloaks, for it's few cloaks I've had my hand to, and few faces MARY DOUL Isn't it a queer thing the voice he puts on him, when you hear him talking of the skinny-looking girls, and he married with a woman he's heard called the wonder of the western world? TIMMY The two of you will see a great wonder this day, and it's no lie. MARTIN DOUL. BRIDE Here's the saint coming from the selvage of the wood.... Strip the cloak from him, Molly, or he'll be seeing it now. MOLLY BYRNE Take the bell and put yourself by the stones. (To Martin Doul.) (She pulls off the cloak and throws it over her arm. Then she pushes Martin Doul over and stands him beside Mary Doul.) [She and Bride stand a little on their left, demurely, with bell, etc., in their hands.] MARTIN DOUL Will he mind the way we are, and not tidied or washed cleanly at all? MOLLY BYRNE. [The Saint comes left, with crowd.] SAINT. TIMMY They are, holy father; they do be always sitting here at the crossing of the roads, asking a bit of copper from them that do pass, or stripping rushes for lights, and they not mournful at all, but talking out straight with a full voice, and making game with them that likes it. SAINT It's a hard life you've had not seeing sun or moon, or the holy priests itself praying to the Lord, but it's the like of you who are brave in a bad time will make a fine use of the gift of sight the Almighty God will bring to you today. (He takes his cloak and puts it about him.) (He takes the water and bell and slings them round his shoulders.) MARTIN DOUL When they look on herself, who is a fine woman. TIMMY Whisht now, and be listening to the Saint. SAINT If it's raggy and dirty you are itself, I'm saying, the Almighty God isn't at all like the rich men of Ireland; and, with the power of the water I'm after bringing in a little curagh into Cashla Bay, He'll have pity on you, and put sight into your eyes. MARTIN DOUL I'm ready now, holy father. SAINT I'll cure you first, and then I'll come for your wife. We'll go up now into the church, for I must say a prayer to the Lord. (To Mary Doul, as he moves off.) PEOPLE Come now till we watch. BRIDE. SAINT Stay back where you are, for I'm not wanting a big crowd making whispers in the church. Stay back there, I'm saying, and you'd do well to be thinking on the way sin has brought blindness to the world, and to be saying a prayer for your own sakes against false prophets and heathens, and the words of women and smiths, and all knowledge that would soil the soul or the body of a man. [People shrink back. He goes into church. Mary Doul gropes half-way towards the door and kneels near path. People form a group at right.] TIMMY. BRIDE. MOLLY BYRNE. BRIDE Look at the great trembling Martin has shaking him, and he on his knees. TIMMY God help him... What will he be doing when he sees his wife this day? I'm thinking it was bad work we did when we let on she was fine-looking, and not a wrinkled, wizened hag the way she is. MAT SIMON. MOLLY BYRNE If it's vexed he is itself, he'll have other things now to think on as well as his wife; and what does any man care for a wife, when it's two weeks or three, he is looking on her face? MAT SIMON. MOLLY BYRNE Let you not be talking, Mat Simon, for it's not yourself will be my man, though you'd be crowing and singing fine songs if you'd that hope in you at all. TIMMY Let you not be raising your voice when the Saint's above at his prayers. BRIDE Whisht.... Whisht.... I'm thinking he's cured. MARTIN DOUL Oh, glory be to God.... SAINT Laus Patri sit et Filio cum Spiritu Paraclito Qui Suae dono gratiae misertus est Hiberniae.... MARTIN DOUL Oh, glory be to God, I see now surely.... I see the walls of the church, and the green bits of ferns in them, and yourself, holy father, and the great width of the sky. [He runs out half-foolish with joy, and comes past Mary Doul as she scrambles to her feet, drawing a little away from her as he goes by.] TIMMY He doesn't know her at all. [The Saint comes out behind Martin Doul, and leads Mary Doul into the church. Martin Doul comes on to the People. The men are between him and the Girls; he verifies his position with his stick.] MARTIN DOUL That's Timmy, I know Timmy by the black of his head.... That's Mat Simon, I know Mat by the length of his legs.... That should be Patch Ruadh, with the gamey eyes in him, and the fiery hair. (He sees Molly Byrne on Mary Doul's seat, and his voice changes completely.) (He goes nearer to her.) [He touches her and she starts up.] MOLLY BYRNE. [People laugh heartily.] MARTIN DOUL It's Molly's voice you have. MOLLY BYRNE. MARTIN DOUL. (He goes up to Bride.) [He catches her shawl.] BRIDE I'm not your wife, and let you get out of my way. [The People laugh again.] MARTIN DOUL Is it yourself it is? You're not so fine-looking, but I'm thinking you'd do, with the grand nose you have, and your nice hands and your feet. GIRL I never seen any person that took me for blind, and a seeing woman, I'm thinking, would never wed the like of you. [She turns away, and the People laugh once more, drawing back a little and leaving him on their left.] PEOPLE Try again, Martin, try again, and you'll be finding her yet. MARTIN DOUL Where is it you have her hidden away? Isn't it a black shame for a drove of pitiful beasts the like of you to be making game of me, and putting a fool's head on me the grand day of my life? Ah, you're thinking you're a fine lot, with your giggling, weeping eyes, a fine lot to be making game of myself and the woman I've heard called the great wonder of the west. [During this speech, which he gives with his back towards the church, Mary Doul has come out with her sight cured, and come down towards the right with a silly simpering smile, till she is a little behind Martin Doul.] MARY DOUL Which of you is Martin Doul? MARTIN DOUL It's her voice surely. [They stare at each other blankly.] MOLLY BYRNE Go up now and take her under the chin and be speaking the way you spoke to myself. MARTIN DOUL If I speak now, I'll speak hard to the two of you. MOLLY BYRNE You're not saying a word, Mary. What is it you think of himself, with the fat legs on him, and the little neck like a ram? MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL. MARY DOUL If I'm not so fine as some of them said, I have my hair, and big eyes, and my white skin. MARTIN DOUL Your hair, and your big eyes, is it?... I'm telling you there isn't a wisp on any gray mare on the ridge of the world isn't finer than the dirty twist on your head. There isn't two eyes in any starving sow isn't finer than the eyes you were calling blue like the sea. MARY DOUL It's the devil cured you this day with your talking of sows; it's the devil cured you this day, I'm saying, and drove you crazy with lies. MARTIN DOUL. MARY DOUL. MARTIN DOUL. MARY DOUL Maybe if I hit you a strong blow you'd be blind again, and having what you want. [The Saint is seen in the church door with his head bent in prayer.] MARTIN DOUL Let you keep off from me now if you wouldn't have me strike out the little handful of brains you have about on the road. [He is going to strike her, but Timmy catches him by the arm.] TIMMY. MARTIN DOUL. (Struggling to free himself). TIMMY Will you whisht, I'm saying. SAINT Are their minds troubled with joy, or is their sight uncertain, the way it does often be the day a person is restored? TIMMY. SAINT May the Lord who has given you sight send a little sense into your heads, the way it won't be on your two selves you'll be looking -- on two pitiful sinners of the earth -- but on the splendour of the Spirit of God, you'll see an odd time shining out through the big hills, and steep streams falling to the sea. For if it's on the like of that you do be thinking, you'll not be minding the faces of men, but you'll be saying prayers and great praises, till you'll be living the way the great saints do be living, with little but old sacks, and skin covering their bones. (To Timmy.) (He frees Martin Doul.) (He gathers his cloak about him.) [He bends his head.] CURTAIN _ |