The Playboy of the Western World Part 6

SARA. You were right surely.

CHRISTY -- [impressively.] With that the sun came out between the cloud and the hill, and it s.h.i.+ning green in my face. "G.o.d have mercy on your soul," says he, lifting a scythe; "or on your own," says I, raising the loy. SUSAN. That's a grand story.

HONOR. He tells it lovely.

CHRISTY -- [flattered and confident, waving bone.] -- He gave a drive with the scythe, and I gave a lep to the east. Then I turned around with my back to the north, and I hit a blow on the ridge of his skull, laid him stretched out, and he split to the k.n.o.b of his gullet. [He raises the chicken bone to his Adam's apple.]

GIRLS -- [together.] Well, you're a marvel! Oh, G.o.d bless you! You're the lad surely!

SUSAN. I'm thinking the Lord G.o.d sent him this road to make a second husband to the Widow Quin, and she with a great yearning to be wedded, though all dread her here. Lift him on her knee, Sara Tansey.

WIDOW QUIN. Don't tease him.

SARA -- [going over to dresser and counter very quickly, and getting two gla.s.ses and porter.] -- You're heroes surely, and let you drink a supeen with your arms linked like the outlandish lovers in the sailor's song.

(She links their arms and gives them the gla.s.ses.) There now. Drink a health to the wonders of the western world, the pirates, preachers, poteen-makers, with the jobbing jockies; parching peelers, and the juries fill their stomachs selling judgments of the English law.

[Brandis.h.i.+ng the bottle.]

WIDOW QUIN. That's a right toast, Sara Tansey. Now Christy. [They drink with their arms linked, he drinking with his left hand, she with her right. As they are drinking, Pegeen Mike comes in with a milk can and stands aghast. They all spring away from Christy. He goes down left.

Widow Quin remains seated.]

PEGEEN -- [angrily, to Sara.] -- What is it you're wanting?

SARA -- [twisting her ap.r.o.n.] -- An ounce of tobacco.

PEGEEN. Have you tuppence?

SARA. I've forgotten my purse.

PEGEEN. Then you'd best be getting it and not fooling us here. (To the Widow Quin, with more elaborate scorn.) And what is it you're wanting, Widow Quin?

WIDOW QUIN -- [insolently.] A penn'orth of starch.

PEGEEN -- [breaking out.] -- And you without a white s.h.i.+ft or a s.h.i.+rt in your whole family since the drying of the flood. I've no starch for the like of you, and let you walk on now to Killamuck.

WIDOW QUIN -- [turning to Christy, as she goes out with the girls.] -- Well, you're mighty huffy this day, Pegeen Mike, and, you young fellow, let you not forget the sports and racing when the noon is by. [They go out.]

PEGEEN -- [imperiously.] Fling out that rubbish and put them cups away.

(Christy tidies away in great haste). Shove in the bench by the wall.

(He does so.) And hang that gla.s.s on the nail. What disturbed it at all?

CHRISTY -- [very meekly.] -- I was making myself decent only, and this a fine country for young lovely girls.

PEGEEN -- [sharply.] Whisht your talking of girls. [Goes to counter right.]

CHRISTY. Wouldn't any wish to be decent in a place...

PEGEEN. Whisht I'm saying.

CHRISTY -- [looks at her face for a moment with great misgivings, then as a last effort, takes up a loy, and goes towards her, with feigned a.s.surance]. -- It was with a loy the like of that I killed my father.

PEGEEN -- [still sharply.] -- You've told me that story six times since the dawn of day.

CHRISTY -- [reproachfully.] It's a queer thing you wouldn't care to be hearing it and them girls after walking four miles to be listening to me now.

PEGEEN -- [turning round astonished.] -- Four miles.

CHRISTY -- [apologetically.] Didn't himself say there were only four bona fides living in the place?

PEGEEN. It's bona fides by the road they are, but that lot came over the river lepping the stones. It's not three perches when you go like that, and I was down this morning looking on the papers the post-boy does have in his bag. (With meaning and emphasis.) For there was great news this day, Christopher Mahon. [She goes into room left.]

CHRISTY -- [suspiciously.] Is it news of my murder?

PEGEEN -- [inside.] Murder, indeed.

CHRISTY -- [loudly.] A murdered da?

PEGEEN [coming in again and crossing right.] -- There was not, but a story filled half a page of the hanging of a man. Ah, that should be a fearful end, young fellow, and it worst of all for a man who destroyed his da, for the like of him would get small mercies, and when it's dead he is, they'd put him in a narrow grave, with cheap sacking wrapping him round, and pour down quicklime on his head, the way you'd see a woman pouring any frish-frash from a cup.

CHRISTY -- [very miserably.] -- Oh, G.o.d help me. Are you thinking I'm safe? You were saying at the fall of night, I was shut of jeopardy and I here with yourselves.

PEGEEN -- [severely.] You'll be shut of jeopardy no place if you go talking with a pack of wild girls the like of them do be walking abroad with the peelers, talking whispers at the fall of night.

CHRISTY -- [with terror.] -- And you're thinking they'd tell?

PEGEEN -- [with mock sympathy.] -- Who knows, G.o.d help you.

CHRISTY -- [loudly.] What joy would they have to bring hanging to the likes of me?

PEGEEN. It's queer joys they have, and who knows the thing they'd do, if it'd make the green stones cry itself to think of you swaying and swiggling at the b.u.t.t of a rope, and you with a fine, stout neck, G.o.d bless you! the way you'd be a half an hour, in great anguish, getting your death.

CHRISTY -- [getting his boots and putting them on.] -- If there's that terror of them, it'd be best, maybe, I went on wandering like Esau or Cain and Abel on the sides of Neifin or the Erris plain.

PEGEEN [beginning to play with him.] -- It would, maybe, for I've heard the Circuit Judges this place is a heartless crew.

CHRISTY -- [bitterly.] It's more than Judges this place is a heartless crew. (Looking up at her.) And isn't it a poor thing to be starting again and I a lonesome fellow will be looking out on women and girls the way the needy fallen spirits do be looking on the Lord?

PEGEEN. What call have you to be that lonesome when there's poor girls walking Mayo in their thousands now?

CHRISTY -- [grimly.] It's well you know what call I have. It's well you know it's a lonesome thing to be pa.s.sing small towns with the lights s.h.i.+ning sideways when the night is down, or going in strange places with a dog nosing before you and a dog nosing behind, or drawn to the cities where you'd hear a voice kissing and talking deep love in every shadow of the ditch, and you pa.s.sing on with an empty, hungry stomach failing from your heart.

PEGEEN. I'm thinking you're an odd man, Christy Mahon. The oddest walking fellow I ever set my eyes on to this hour to-day.

CHRISTY. What would any be but odd men and they living lonesome in the world?

PEGEEN. I'm not odd, and I'm my whole life with my father only.

CHRISTY -- [with infinite admiration.] -- How would a lovely handsome woman the like of you be lonesome when all men should be thronging around to hear the sweetness of your voice, and the little infant children should be pestering your steps I'm thinking, and you walking the roads.