by W. B. Yeats
FIRST MERCHANT. If we would win this turquoise for our lord It must go dropping down of its free will But I’ve a plan.
SECOND MERCHANT. To take her soul to-night?
FIRST MERCHANT. Because I am of the ninth and mightiest hell Where are all kings, I have a plan.
(Voices.)
SECOND MERCHANT. Too late; For somebody is stirring in the house; the noise That the sea creatures made as they came hither, Their singing and their endless chattering, Has waked the house. I hear the chairs pushed back, And many shuffling feet. All the old men and women She’s gathered in the house are coming hither.
A VOICE. (within) It was here.
ANOTHER VOICE. No, farther away.
ANOTHER VOICE. It was in the western tower.
ANOTHER VOICE. Come quickly, we will search the western tower.
FIRST MERCHANT. We still have time — they search the distant rooms.
SECOND MERCHANT. Brother, I heard a sound in there — a sound That troubles me.
(Going to the door of the oratory and peering through it.) Upon the altar steps The Countess tosses, murmuring in her sleep A broken Paternoster.
FIRST MERCHANT. Do not fear, For when she has awaked the prayer will cease.
SECOND MERCHANT. What, would you wake her?
FIRST MERCHANT. I will speak with her, And mix with all her thoughts a thought to serve. — Lady, we’ve news that’s crying out for speech.
(CATHLEEN wakes and comes to door of the chapel.)
Cathleen. Who calls?
FIRST MERCHANT. We have brought news.
CATHLEEN. What are you?
FIRST MERCHANT. We are merchants, and we know the book of the world Because we have walked upon its leaves; and there Have read of late matters that much concern you; And noticing the castle door stand open, Came in to find an ear.
CATHLEEN. The door stands open, That no one who is famished or afraid, Despair of help or of a welcome with it. But you have news, you say.
FIRST MERCHANT. We saw a man, Heavy with sickness in the bog of Allen, Whom you had bid buy cattle. Near Fair Head We saw your grain ships lying all becalmed In the dark night; and not less still than they, Burned all their mirrored lanthorns in the sea.
CATHLEEN.. My thanks to God, to Mary and the angels, That I have money in my treasury, And can buy grain from those who have stored it up To prosper on the hunger of the poor. But you’ve been far and know the signs of things, When will this yellow vapour no more hang And creep about the fields, and this great heat Vanish away, and grass show its green shoots?
FIRST MERCHANT. There is no sign of change — day copies day, Green things are dead — the cattle too are dead Or dying — and on all the vapour hangs, And fattens with disease and glows with heat. In you is all the hope of all the land.
CATHLEEN. And heard you of the demons who buy souls?
FIRST MERCHANT. There are some men who hold they have wolves’ heads, And say their limbs — dried by the infinite flame — Have all the speed of storms; others, again, Say they are gross and little; while a few Will have it they seem much as mortals are, But tall and brown and travelled — like us — lady, Yet all agree a power is in their looks That makes men bow, and flings a casting-net About their souls, and that all men would go And barter those poor vapours, were it not You bribe them with the safety of your gold.
CATHLEEN. Praise be to God, to Mary, and the angels That I am wealthy! Wherefore do they sell?
FIRST MERCHANT. As we came in at the great door we saw Your porter sleeping in his niche — a soul Too little to be worth a hundred pence, And yet they buy it for a hundred crowns. But for a soul like yours, I heard them say, They would give five hundred thousand crowns and more.
CATHLEEN. How can a heap of crowns pay for a soul? Is the green grave so terrible a thing?
FIRST MERCHANT. Some sell because the money gleams, and some Because they are in terror of the grave, And some because their neighbours sold before, And some because there is a kind of joy In casting hope away, in losing joy, In ceasing all resistance, in at last Opening one’s arms to the eternal flames.
In casting all sails out upon the wind; To this — full of the gaiety of the lost — Would all folk hurry if your gold were gone.
CATHLEEN. There is something, Merchant, in your voice That makes me fear. When you were telling how A man may lose his soul and lose his God Your eyes were lighted up, and when you told How my poor money serves the people, both — Merchants forgive me — seemed to smile.
FIRST MERCHANT. Man’s sins Move us to laughter only; we have seen So many lands and seen so many men. How strange that all these people should be swung As on a lady’s shoe-string, — under them The glowing leagues of never-ending flame.
CATHLEEN. There is a something in you that I fear; A something not of us; but were you not born In some most distant corner of the world?
(The SECOND MERCHANT, who has been listening at the door, comes forward, and as he comes a sound of voices and feet is heard.)
SECOND MERCHANT. Away now — they are in the passage — hurry, For they will know us, and freeze up our hearts With Ave Marys, and burn all our skin With holy water.
FIRST MERCHANT. Farewell; for we must ride Many a mile before the morning come; Our horses beat the ground impatiently.
(They go out. A number of PEASANTs enter by other door.)
FIRST PEASANT. Forgive us, lady, but we heard a noise.
SECOND PEASANT. We sat by the fireside telling vanities.
FIRST PEASANT. We heard a noise, but though we have searched the house We have found nobody.
CATHLEEN. You are too timid. For now you are safe from all the evil times. There is no evil that can find you here.
OONA (entering hurriedly) Ochone! Ochone! The treasure room is broken in, The door stands open, and the gold is gone.
(PEASANTS raise a lamentable cry.)
CATHLEEN. Be silent.
(The cry ceases.)
Have you seen nobody?
OONA Ochone! That my good mistress should lose all this money.
CATHLEEN. Let those among you — not too old to ride — Get horses and search all the country round, I’ll give a farm to him who finds the thieves.
(A man with keys at his girdle has come in while she speaks. There is a general murmur of The Porter! the porter!”)
PORTER. Demons were here. I sat beside the door In my stone niche, and two owls passed me by, Whispering with human voices.
OLD PEASANT. God forsakes us.
CATHLEEN. Old man, old man, He never closed a door Unless one opened. I am desolate, For a most sad resolve wakes in my heart But I have still my faith; therefore be silent For surely He does not forsake the world, But stands before it modelling in the clay And moulding there His image. Age by age The clay wars with His fingers and pleads hard For its old, heavy, dull and shapeless ease; But sometimes — though His hand is on it still — It moves awry and demon hordes are born.
(PEASANTS cross themselves.)
Yet leave me now, for I am desolate, I hear a whisper from beyond the thunder.
(She comes from the oratory door.)
Yet stay an instant. When we meet again I may have grown forgetful. Oona, take These two — the larder and the dairy keys.
(To the PORTER.)
But take you this. It opens the small room Of herbs for medicine, of hellebore, Of vervain, monkshood, plantain, and self-heal. The book of cures is on the upper shelf.
PORTER. Why do you do this, lady; did you see Your coffin in a dream?
CATHLEEN. Ah, no, not that. A sad resolve wakes in me. I have heard A sound of wailing in unnumbered hovels, And I must go down, down — I know not where — Pray for all men and women mad from famine; Pray, you good neighbours.
(The PEASANTS all kneel. COUNTESS CATHLEEN ascends the steps to the door of the oratory, and turning round stands there motionless for a little, and then cries in a loud voice:)
Mary, Queen of angels, And all you clouds on clouds of s
aints, farewell!
END OF SCENE 3.
SCENE 4
SCENE. — A wood near the Castle, as in Scene 2. The SPIRITS pass one by one carrying bags.
FIRST SPIRIT. I’ll never dance another step, not one.
SECOND SPIRIT. Are all the thousand years of dancing done?
THIRD SPIRIT. How can we dance after so great a sorrow?
FOURTH SPIRIT. But how shall we remember it to-morrow?
FIFTH SPIRIT. To think of all the things that we forget.
SIXTH SPIRIT. That’s why we groan and why our lids are wet.
(The SPIRITS go out. A group Of PEASANTS Pass.)
FIRST PEASANT. I have seen silver and copper, but not gold.
SECOND PEASANT. It’s yellow and it shines.
FIRST PEASANT. It’s beautiful. The most beautiful thing under the sun, That’s what I’ve heard.
THIRD PEASANT. I have seen gold enough.
FOURTH PEASANT. I would not say that it’s so beautiful.
FIRST PEASANT. But doesn’t a gold piece glitter like the sun? That’s what my father, who’d seen better days, Told me when I was but a little boy — So high — so high, it’s shining like the sun, Round and shining, that is what he said.
SECOND PEASANT. There’s nothing in the world it cannot buy.
FIRST PEASANT. They’ve bags and bags of it.
(They go out. The two MERCHANTS follow silently.)
END OF SCENE 4
SCENE 5
SCENE. — The house of SHEMUS RUA. There is an alcove at the back with curtains; in it a bed, and on the bed is the body of MARY with candles round it. The two MERCHANTS while they speak put a large book upon a table, arrange money, and so on.
FIRST MERCHANT. Thanks to that lie I told about her ships And that about the herdsman lying sick, We shall be too much thronged with souls to-morrow.
SECOND MERCHANT. What has she in her coffers now but mice?
FIRST MERCHANT. When the night fell and I had shaped myself Into the image of the man-headed owl, I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal, And saw with all their canvas full of wind And rushing through the parti-coloured sea Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal. They’re but three days from us.
SECOND MERCHANT. When the dew rose I hurried in like feathers to the east, And saw nine hundred oxen driven through Meath With goads of iron, They’re but three days from us.
FIRST MERCHANT. Three days for traffic.
(PEASANTS crowd in with TEIG and SHEMUS.)
SHEMUS. Come in, come in, you are welcome. That is my wife. She mocked at my great masters, And would not deal with them. Now there she is; She does not even know she was a fool, So great a fool she was.
TEIG. She would not eat One crumb of bread bought with our master’s money, But lived on nettles, dock, and dandelion.
SHEMUS. There’s nobody could put into her head
That Death is the worst thing can happen us. Though that sounds simple, for her tongue grew rank With all the lies that she had heard in chapel. Draw to the curtain.
(TEIG draws it.)
You’ll not play the fool While these good gentlemen are there to save you.
SECOND MERCHANT. Since the drought came they drift about in a throng, Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds. Come, deal — come, deal.
FIRST MERCHANT. Who will come deal with us?
SHEMUS. They are out of spirit, Sir, with lack of food, Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these; The others will gain courage in good time.
MIDDLE-AGED-MAN. I come to deal — if you give honest price.
FIRST MERCHANT (reading in a book) John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind, And quiet senses and unventurous heart. The angels think him safe.” Two hundred crowns, All for a soul, a little breath of wind.
THE MAN. I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there That no mere lapse of days can make me yours.
FIRST MERCHANT. There is something more writ here — ”often at night He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor, And thereon wonders if there’s any man That he could rob in safety.”
A PEASANT. Who’d have thought it? And I was once alone with him at midnight.
ANOTHER PEASANT. I will not trust my mother after this.
FIRST MERCHANT. There is this crack in you — two hundred crowns.
A PEASANT. That’s plenty for a rogue.
ANOTHER PEASANT. I’d give him nothing.
SHEMUS. You’ll get no more — so take what’s offered you.
(A general murmur, during which the MIDDLE-AGED-MAN takes money, and slips into background, where he sinks on to a seat.)
FIRST MERCHANT. Has no one got a better soul than that? If only for the credit of your parishes, Traffic with us.
A WOMAN. What will you give for mine?
FIRST MERCHANT (reading in book) “Soft, handsome, and still young “ — not much, I think.” It’s certain that the man she’s married to Knows nothing of what’s hidden in the jar Between the hour-glass and the pepper-pot.”
THE WOMAN. The scandalous book.
FIRST MERCHANT. “Nor how when he’s away At the horse fair the hand that wrote what’s hid Will tap three times upon the window-pane.”
THE WOMAN. And if there is a letter, that is no reason Why I should have less money than the others.
FIRST MERCHANT. You’re almost safe, I give you fifty crowns
(She turns to go.)
A hundred, then.
SHEMUS. Woman, have sense-come, Come. Is this a time to haggle at the price? There, take it up. There, there. That’s right.
(She takes them and goes into the crowd.)
FIRST MERCHANT. Come, deal, deal, deal. It is but for charity We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins Made them our Master’s long before we came.
(ALEEL enters.)
ALEEL. Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it. I do not ask a price.
SHEMUS. Not ask a price? How can you sell your soul without a price? I would not listen to his broken wits; His love for Countess Cathleen has so crazed him He hardly understands what he is saying.
ALEEL. The trouble that has come on Countess Cathleen, The sorrow that is in her wasted face, The burden in her eyes, have broke my wits, And yet I know I’d have you take my soul.
FIRST MERCHANT. We cannot take your soul, for it is hers.
ALEEL. No, but you must. Seeing it cannot help her I have grown tired of it.
FIRST MERCHANT. Begone from me I may not touch it.
ALEEL. Is your power so small? And must I bear it with me all my days? May you be scorned and mocked!
FIRST MERCHANT. Drag him away. He troubles me.
(TEIG and SHEMUS lead ALEEL into the crowd.)
SECOND MERCHANT. His gaze has filled me, brother, With shaking and a dreadful fear.
FIRST MERCHANT. Lean forward And kiss the circlet where my Master’s lips Were pressed upon it when he sent us hither; You shall have peace once more.
(SECOND MERCHANT kisses the gold circlet that is about the head of the FIRST MERCHANT.) I, too, grow weary, But there is something moving in my heart Whereby I know that what we seek the most Is drawing near — our labour will soon end. Come, deal, deal, deal, deal, deal; are you all dumb? What, will you keep me from our ancient home And from the eternal revelry?
SECOND MERCHANT. Deal, deal.
SHEMUS. They say you beat the woman down too low.
FIRST MERCHANT. I offer this great price: a-thousand crowns For an old woman who was always ugly.
(An Old PEASANT WOMAN comes forward, and he takes up a book and reads.)
There is but little set down here against her. “She has stolen eggs and fowl when times were bad, But when the times grew better has confessed it; She never missed her chapel of a Sunday And when she could, paid dues.” Take up your money.
OLD WOMAN. God bless you, Sir.
(She screams.)
Oh, sir, a pain went through me!
FIRST MERCHANT. That name is like a fire to all damned souls.
A PEASANT. How she screamed out!
