by W. B. Yeats
An egg out of the basket.
My white hen laid it,
My favourite white hen.
MARY. Her eyes grow glassy, she moves
According to the notes of the flute.
AGNES. Her limbs grow rigid, she seems
A doll upon a wire.
MARY. Her human life is gone
And that is why she seems
A doll upon a wire.
AGNES. YOU mean that when she looks so
She is but a puppet?
MARY. HOW do I know? And yet
Twice have I seen her so,
She will move for certain minutes
As though her god were there
Thinking how best to move
A doll upon a wire.
Then she will move away
In long leaps as though
He had remembered his skill.
She has still my little egg.
AGNES. Who knows but your little egg
Comes into some mystery?
KATE. Some mystery to make
Love-loneliness more sweet.
AGNES. She has moved. She has moved away.
KATE. Travelling fast asleep
In long loops like a dancer.
MARY. Like a dancer, like a hare.
AGNES. The last time she went away
The moon was full — she returned
Before its side had flattened.
KATE. This time she will not return.
AGNES. Because she is called to her marriage?
KATE. Those leaps may carry her where
No woman has gone, and he
Extinguish sun, moon, star.
No bridal torch can burn
When his black midnight is there.
AGNES. I have heard her claim that they couple
In the blazing heart of the sun.
KATE. But you have heard it wrong!
In blue-black midnight they couple.
AGNES. NO, in the sun.
KATE. — Blue-black!
AGNES. In the sun!
KATE. — Blue-black, blue-black!
MARY. All I know is that she
Shall lie there in his bed,
Nor shall it end until
She lies there full of his might
His thunderbolts in her hand.
SCENE III
Before the gates of Tara, Congal, Mike, Pat, [Malachi, John,] James,
Mathias, etc., soldiers of Congal, Corney, and the Donkey.
CONGAL. This is Tara; in a moment
Men must come out of the gate
With a great basket between them
And we give up our arms,
No armed man can enter.
CORNEY. And here is that great bird
Over our heads again.
PAT. The Great Heme himself
And he in a red rage.
MIKE. Stones.
CONGAL. — This man is right.
Beat him to death with stones.
[All go through the motion of picking up and throwing stones.
There are no stones except in so far as their gestures can suggest them.
PAT. All our stones fell wide.
CORNEY. He has come down so low
His legs are sweeping the grass.
MIKE. Swords.
CONGAL. This man is right.
Cut him up with swords.
PAT. I have him within my reach.
CONGAL. NO, no, he is here at my side.
CORNEY. His wing has touched my shoulder.
CONGAL. We missed him again and he
Rises again and sinks
Behind the wall of Tara.
[Two men come in carrying a large basket slung between two poles. One is whistling. All except Corney, who is unarmed, drop their swords and helmets into the basket. Each soldier when he takes off his helmet shows that he wears a skull-cap of soft cloth.
CONGAL. Where have I heard that tune?
MIKE. This morning.
CONGAL. — I know it now,
The tune of ‘The Great Heme’s Feather’.
It puts my teeth on edge.
SCENE IV
Banqueting ball. A throne painted on the back-cloth. Enter Congal, alone, drunk, and shouting.
CONGAL. To arms, to arms! Connaught to arms!
Insulted and betrayed, betrayed and insulted.
Who has insulted me? Tara has insulted.
To arms, to arms! Connaught to arms!
To arms — but if you have not got any
Take a table-leg or a candlestick,
A boot or a stool or any odd thing.
Who has betrayed me? Tara has betrayed!
To arms, to arms! Connaught to arms!
[He goes out to one side. Music, perhaps drum and concertina, to suggest breaking of wood. Enter at the other side, the King of Tara, drunk.
AEDH. Where is that beastly drunken liar
That says I have insulted him?
Congal enters with two table-legs.
CONGAL. I say it!
AEDH. — What insult?
CONGAL. — HOW dare you ask?
When I have had a common egg,
A common hen’s egg put before me,
An egg dropped in the dirty straw
And crowed for by a cross-bred gangling cock,
And every other man at the table
A heme’s egg.
[Throws a table-leg on the floor.
There is your weapon. Take it!
Take it up, defend yourself.
An egg that some half-witted slattern
Spat upon and wiped in her apron!
AEDH. A servant put the wrong egg there.
CONGAL. But at whose orders?
AEDH. — At your own.
A murderous drunken plot, a plot
To put a weapon that I do not know
Into my hands.
CONGAL. — Take up that weapon.
If I am as drunken as you say,
And you as sober as you think,
A coward and a drunkard are well matched.
[Aedh takes up the table-leg. Connaught and Tara soldiers come in, they fight, and the fight sways to and fro. The weapons, table-legs, candlesticks, etc., do not touch. Drum-taps represent blows. All go out fighting. Enter Pat, drunk, with bottle.
PAT. Heme’s egg, hen’s egg, great difference.
There’s insult in that difference.
What do hens eat? Hens live upon mash,
Upon slop, upon kitchen odds and ends.
What do hemes eat? Hemes live on eels,
On things that must always run about.
Man’s a high animal and runs about,
But mash is low, O, very low.
Or, to speak like a philosopher,
When a man expects the movable
But gets the immovable, he is insulted.
Enter Congal, Peter, Malachi, Mathias, etc.
CONGAL. Tara knew that he was overmatched;
Knew from the start he had no chance;
Died of a broken head; died drunk;
Accused me with his dying breath
Of secretly practising with a table-leg,
Practising at midnight until I
Became a perfect master with the weapon.
But that is all lies.
PAT. — Let all men know
He was a noble character
And I must weep at his funeral.
CONGAL. He insulted me with a hen’s egg,
Said I had practised with a table-leg,
But I have taken kingdom and throne
And that has made all level again
And I can weep at his funeral.
I would not have had him die that way
Or die at all, he should have been immortal.
Our fifty battles had made us friends.
And there are fifty more to come.
New weapons, a new leader will be found
And everything begin again.
MIKE. M
uch bloodier.
CONGAL. — They had, we had
Forgotten what we fought about,
So fought like gentlemen, but now
Knowing the truth must fight like the beasts.
Maybe the Great Heme’s curse has done it.
Why not? Answer me that; why not?
MIKE. Horror henceforth.
CONGAL. — This wise man means
We fought so long like gentlemen
That we grew blind.
Attracta enters, walking in her sleep, a heme’s egg in her hand.
She stands near the throne and holds her egg towards it for a moment.
MATHIAS. — Look! Look!
She offers that egg. Who is to take it?
CONGAL. She walks with open eyes but in her sleep.
MATHIAS. I can see it all in a flash.
She found that heme’s egg on the table
And left the hen’s egg there instead.
JAMES. She brought the hen’s egg on purpose
Walking in her wicked sleep.
CONGAL. And if I take that egg, she wakes,
Completes her task, her circle;
We all complete a task or circle,
Want a woman, then all goes — pff.
[He goes to take the egg.
MIKE. Not now.
CONGAL. — This wise man says ‘not now’.
There must be something to consider first.
JAMES. By changing one egg for another
She has brought bloodshed on us all.
PAT. He was a noble character,
And I must weep at his funeral.
JAMES. I say that she must die, I say,
According to what my mother said,
All that have done what she did must die,
But, in a manner of speaking, pleasantly,
Because legally, certainly not
By beating with a table-leg
As though she were a mere Tara man
Nor yet by beating with a stone
As though she were the Great Heme himself.
MIKE. The Great Heme’s bride.
CONGAL. — I had forgotten
That all she does he makes her do,
But he is god and out of reach;
Nor stone can bruise, nor a sword pierce him,
And yet through his betrothed, his bride,
I have the power to make him suffer;
His curse has given me the right,
I am to play the fool and die
At a fool’s hands.
MIKE. — Seven men.
[He begins to count, seeming to strike the table with the tableleg, but table and table-leg must not meet, the blow is represented by the sound of the drum.
One, two, three, four,
Five, six, seven men.
PAT. Seven that are present in this room,
Seven that must weep at his funeral.
CONGAL. This man who struck those seven blows
Means that we seven in the name of the law
Must handle, penetrate, and possess her,
And do her a great good by that action,
Melting out the virgin snow,
And that snow image, the Great Heme;
For nothing less than seven men
Can melt that snow, but when it melts
She may, being free from all obsession,
Live as every woman should.
I am the Court; judgement has been given.
I name the seven: Congal of Tara,
Patrick, Malachi, Mike, John, James,
And that coarse hulk of clay, Mathias.
MATHIAS. I dare not lay a hand upon that woman.
The people say that she is holy
And carries a great devil in her gut.
PAT. What mischief can a Munster devil
Do to a man that was born in Connaught?
MALACHI. I made a promise to my mother
When we set out on this campaign
To keep from women.
JOHN. — I have a wife that’s jealous
If I but look the moon in the face.
JAMES. I am promised to an educated girl.
Her family are most particular,
What would they say — O my God!
CONGAL. Whoever disobeys the Court
Is an unmannerly, disloyal lout,
And no good citizen.
PAT. — Here is my bottle.
Pass it along, a long, long pull;
Although it’s round like a woman carrying,
No unmannerly, disloyal bottle,
An affable, most loyal bottle.
[All drink.
MATHIAS. I first.
CONGAL. — That’s for the Court to say.
A Court of Law is a blessed thing,
Logic, Mathematics, ground in one,
And everything out of balance accursed.
When the Court decides on a decree
Men carry it out with dignity.
Here where I put down my hand
I will put a mark, then all must stand
Over there in a level row.
And all take off their caps and throw.
The nearest cap shall take her first,
The next shall take her next; so on
Till all is in good order done.
I need a mark and so must take
The heme’s egg, and let her wake.
[He takes egg and lays it upon the ground. Attracta stands motionless, looking straight in front of her. She sings. The seven standing in a row throw their caps one after another.
ATTRACTA. When I take a beast to my joyful breast,
Though beak and claw I must endure,
Sang the bride of the Heme, and the Great Heme’s bride,
No lesser life, man, bird or beast,
Can make unblessed what a beast made blessed,
Can make impure what a beast made pure.
Where is he gone, where is that other,
He that shall take my maidenhead?
Sang the bride of the Heme, and the Great Heme’s bride,
Out of the moon came my pale brother,
The blue-black midnight is my mother.
Who will turn down the sheets of the bed?
When beak and claw their work begin
Shall horror stir in the roots of my hair?
Sang the bride of the Heme and the Great Heme’s bride,
And who lie there in the cold dawn
When all that terror has come and gone?
Shall I be the woman lying there?
SCENE V
Before the Gate of Tara. Corney enters with Donkey.
CORNEY. YOU thought to go on sleeping though dawn was up,
Rapscallion of a beast, old highwayman.
That light in the eastern sky is dawn,
You cannot deny it; many a time
You looked upon it following your trade.
Cheer up, we shall be home before sunset.
Attracta comes in.
ATTRACTA. I have packed all the uneaten or unbroken eggs
Into the creels, help carry them
And hang them on the donkey’s back.
CORNEY. We could boil them hard and keep them in the larder,
But Congal has had them all boiled soft.
ATTRACTA. Such eggs are holy. Many pure souls
Especially among the country people
Would shudder if heme’s eggs were left
For foul-tongued, bloody-minded men.
Congal, Malachi, Mike, etc., enter.
CONGAL. A sensible woman, you gather up what’s left,
Your thoughts upon the cupboard and the larder.
No more a heme’s bride, a crazed loony
Waiting to be trodden by a bird,
But all woman, all sensible woman.
MIKE. Manners.
CONGAL. — This man who is always right
Desires that I should add these words,
The seven that held you in their arms last ni
ght
Wish you good luck.
ATTRACTA. — What do you say?
My husband came to me in the night.
CONGAL. Seven men lay with you in the night.
Go home desiring and desirable,
And look for a man.
ATTRACTA. — The Heme is my husband.
I lay beside him, his pure bride.
CONGAL. Pure in the embrace of seven men?
MIKE. She slept.
CONGAL. — You say that though I thought,
Because I took the egg out of her hand,
That she awoke, she did not wake
Until day broke upon her sleep —
Her sleep and ours — did she wake pure?
Seven men can answer that.
CORNEY. King though you are, I will not hear
The bride of the Great Heme defamed —
A king, a king but a Mayo man.
A Mayo man’s lying tongue can beat
A Clare highwayman’s rapscallion eye,
Seven times a liar.
MIKE. — Seven men.
CONGAL. I, Congal, lay with her last night.
MATHIAS. And I, Mathias.
MIKE. — And I.
JAMES. — And I.
MALACHI. And I.
JOHN. — And I.
PAT. — And I; swear it;
And not a drop of drink since dawn.
