The Well of the Saints | Page 3

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THE WELL OF THE SAINTS A Comedy in Three Acts By J. M.
SYNGE

SCENE Some lonely mountainous district in the east of Ireland one or
more centuries ago.
THE WELL OF THE SAINTS was first produced in the Abbey Theatre
in February, 1905, by the Irish National Theatre Society, under the
direction of W. G. Fay, and with the following cast.
Martin Doul W. G. FAY Mary Doul EMMA VERNON Timmy
GEORGE ROBERTS Molly Byrne SARA ALLGOOD Bride MAIRE
NIC SHIUBHLAIGH Mat Simon P. MAC SHIUBHLAIGH The Saint
F. J. FAY OTHER GIRLS AND MEN

MARTIN DOUL, weather-beaten, blind beggar

MARY DOUL, his Wife, weather-beaten, ugly woman, blind also,
nearly fifty
TIMMY, a middle-aged, almost elderly, but vigorous smith
MOLLY BYRNE, fine-looking girl with fair hair
BRIDE, another handsome girl
MAT SIMON
THE SAINT, a wandering Friar
OTHER GIRLS AND MEN

THE WELL OF THE SAINTS
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. What place are we now, Martin Doul?
MARTIN DOUL. Passing the gap.
MARY DOUL -- [raising her head.] -- The length of that! Well, the
sun's getting warm this day if it's late autumn itself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [putting out his hands in sun.] -- 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. It isn't going to the fair, the time they do be driving
their cattle and they with a litter of pigs maybe squealing in their carts,
they'd give us a thing at all. (She sits down.) It's well you know that,
but you must be talking.
MARTIN DOUL -- [sitting down beside her and beginning to shred
rushes she gives him.] -- 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. Who wouldn't have a cracked voice sitting out all the
year in the rain falling? It's a bad life for the voice, Martin Doul, though
I've heard tell there isn't anything like the wet south wind does be
blowing upon us for keeping a white beautiful skin -- the like of my
skin -- on your neck and on your brows, and there isn't anything at all
like a fine skin for putting splendour on a woman.

MARTIN DOUL -- [teasingly, but with good humour.] -- 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. Let you not be making the like of that talk when you've
heard Timmy the smith, and Mat Simon, and Patch Ruadh, and a power
besides saying fine things of my face, and you know rightly it was "the
beautiful dark woman" they did call me in Ballinatone.
MARTIN DOUL -- [as before.] -- 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 -- [sharply.] -- She was jealous, God forgive her,
because Timmy the smith was after praising