The Countess Cathleen | Page 4

be cleaned.
MARY. I will not cook for you, because I know?In what unlucky shape you sat but now?Outside this door.
TEIG. It's this, your honours:?Because of some wild words my father said?She thinks you are not of those who cast a shadow.
SHEMUS. I said I'd make the devils of the wood?Welcome, if they'd a mind to eat and drink;?But it is certain that you are men like us.
FIRST MERCHANT.?It's strange that she should think we cast no shadow,?For there is nothing on the ridge of the world?That's more substantial than the merchants are?That buy and sell you.
MARY. If you are not demons,?And seeing what great wealth is spread out there,?Give food or money to the starving poor.
FIRST MERCHANT. If we knew how to find deserving poor?We'd do our share.
MARY. But seek them patiently.
FIRST MERCHANT. We know the evils of mere charity.
MARY. Those scruples may befit a common time.?I had thought there was a pushing to and fro,?At times like this, that overset the scale?And trampled measure down.
FIRST MERCHANT. But if already?We'd thought of a more prudent way than that?
SECOND MERCHANT. If each one brings a bit of merchandise,?We'll give him such a price he never dreamt of.
MARY. Where shall the starving come at merchandise?
FIRST MERCHANT. We will ask nothing but what all men have.
MARY. Their swine and cattle, fields and implements?Are sold and gone.
FIRST MERCHANT. They have not sold all yet.?For there's a vaporous thing--that may be nothing,?But that's the buyer's risk--a second self,?They call immortal for a story's sake.
SHEMUS. You come to buy our souls?
TEIG. I'll barter mine.?Why should we starve for what may be but nothing?
MARY. Teig and Shemus--
SHEMUS. What can it be but nothing??What has God poured out of His bag but famine??Satan gives money.
TEIG. Yet no thunder stirs.
FIRST MERCHANT. There is a heap for each.
(SHEMUS goes to take money.)
But no, not yet,?For there's a work I have to set you to.
SHEMUS. So then you're as deceitful as the rest,?And all that talk of buying what's but a vapour?Is fancy bred. I might have known as much,?Because that's how the trick-o'-the-loop man talks.
FIRST MERCHANT. That's for the work, each has its separate price; But neither price is paid till the work's done.
TEIG. The same for me.
MARY. Oh, God, why are you still?
FIRST MERCHANT. You've but to cry aloud at every cross-road, At every house door, that we buy men's souls,?And give so good a price that all may live?In mirth and comfort till the famine's done,?Because we are Christian men.
SHEMUS. Come, let's away.
TREIG> I shall keep running till I've earned the price.
SECOND MERCHANT. (who has risen and gone towards fire)?Stop, for we obey a generous Master,?That would be served by Comfortable men.?And here's your entertainment on the road.
(TRIG and SHEMUS have stopped. TEIG takes the money. They go out.)
MARY. Destroyers of souls, God will destroy you quickly.?You shall at last dry like dry leaves and hang?Nailed like dead vermin to the doors of God.
SECOND MERCHANT.?Curse to your fill, for saints will have their dreams.
FIRST MERCHANTm Though we're but vermin that our Master sent To overrun the world, he at the end?Shall pull apart the pale ribs of the moon?And quench the stars in the ancestral night.
MARY., God is all powerful.
SECOND MERCHANT. Pray, you shall need Him.?You shall eat dock and grass, and dandelion,?Till that low threshold there becomes a wall,?And when your hands can scarcely drag your body?We shall be near you.
(MARY faints.) (The FIRST MERCHANT takes up the carPet, spreads it before the fire and stands in front of it warming his hands.)
FIRST MERCHANT. Our faces go unscratched,?For she has fainted. Wring the neck o' that fowl,?Scatter the flour and search the shelves for bread.?We'll turn the fowl upon the spit and roast it,?And eat the supper we were bidden to,?Now that the house is quiet, praise our master,?And stretch and warm our heels among the ashes.
END OF SCENE 1
SCENE 2
FRONT SCENE.--A wood with perhaps distant view of turreted house at one side, but all in flat colour, without light and shade and against a diafiered or gold background.
COUNTESS CATHLEEN comes in leaning UpOn ALEEL's arm. OONA follows them.
CATHLEEN. (Stopping) Surely this leafy corner, where one smells The wild bee's honey, has a story too?
OONA. There is the house at last.
ALEEL. A man, they say,?Loved Maeve the Queen of all the invisible host,?And died of his love nine centuries ago.?And now, when the moon's riding at the full,?She leaves her dancers lonely and lies there?Upon that level place, and for three days?Stretches and sighs and wets her long pale cheeks.
CATHLEEN. So she loves truly.
ALEEL. No, but wets her cheeks,?Lady, because she has forgot his name.
CATHLEEN. She'd sleep that trouble away--though it must be?A heavy trouble to forget his name--?If she had better sense.
OONA. Your own house, lady.
ALEEL. She sleeps high up on wintry Knock-na-rea?In an old cairn