The Plough and the Stars

by Sean O'Casey

  They fussily carry in the chair, the table, and some of the other goods. They return to bring in the rest.

  Peter (at door, sourly to Mrs Gogan) Ay, you. Mollser looks as if she was goin’ to faint, an’ your youngster is roarin’ in convulsions in her lap.

  Mrs Gogan (snappily) She’s never any other way but faintin’!

  She goes to go in with some things in her arms, when a shot from a rifle rings out. She and Bessie make a bolt for the door, which Peter, in a panic, tries to shut before they have got inside.

  Ay, ay, ay, you cowardly oul’ fool, what are you thryin’ to shut th’ door on us for?

  They retreat tumultuously inside. A pause; then Captain Brennan comes in supporting Lieutenant Langon, whose arm is around Brennan’s neck. Langon’s face, which is ghastly white, is momentarily convulsed with spasms of agony. He is in a state of collapse, and Brennan is almost carrying him. After a few moments Clitheroe, pale, and in a state of calm nervousness, follows, looking back in the direction from which he came, a rifle, held at the ready, in his hands.

  Capt. Brennan (savagely to Clitheroe) Why did you fire over their heads? Why didn’t you fire to kill?

  Clitheroe No, no, Bill; bad as they are they’re Irish men an’ women.

  Capt. Brennan (savagely) Irish be damned! Attackin’ an’ mobbin’ th’ men that are riskin’ their lives for them. If these slum lice gather at our heels again, plug one o’ them, or I’ll soon shock them with a shot or two meself!

  Lieut. Langon (moaningly) My God, is there ne’er an ambulance knockin’ around anywhere? … Th’ stomach is ripped out o’ me; I feel it – o-o-oh, Christ!

  Capt. Brennan Keep th’ heart up, Jim; we’ll soon get help, now.

  Nora rushes wildly out of the house and flings her arms round the neck of Clitheroe with a fierce and joyous insistence. Her hair is down, her face is haggard, but her eyes are agleam with the light of happy relief

  Nora Jack, Jack, Jack; God be thanked … be thanked … He has been kind and merciful to His poor handmaiden … My Jack, my own Jack, that I thought was lost is found, that I thought was dead is alive again! … Oh, God be praised for ever, evermore! … My poor Jack … Kiss me, kiss me, Jack, kiss your own Nora!

  Clitheroe (kissing her, and speaking brokenly) My Nora; my little, beautiful Nora, I wish to God I’d never left you.

  Nora It doesn’t matter – not now, not now, Jack. It will make us dearer than ever to each other … Kiss me, kiss me again.

  Clitheroe Now, for God’s sake, Nora, don’t make a scene.

  Nora I won’t, I won’t; I promise, I promise, Jack; honest to God. I’ll be silent an’ brave to bear th’ joy of feelin’ you safe in my arms again … It’s hard to force away th’ tears of happiness at th’ end of an awful agony.

  Bessie (from the upper window) Th’ Minsthrel Boys aren’t feelin’ very comfortable now. Th’ big guns has knocked all th’ harps out of their hands. General Clitheroe’d rather be unlacin’ his wife’s bodice than standin’ at a barricade … An’ th’ professor of chicken-butcherin’ there, finds he’s up against somethin’ a little tougher even than his own chickens, an’ that’s sayin’ a lot!

  Capt. Brennan (up to Bessie) Shut up, y’oul’ hag!

  Bessie (down to Brennan) Choke th’ chicken, choke th’ chicken, choke th’ chicken!

  Lieut. Langon For God’s sake, Bill, bring me some place where me wound ’ll be looked afther … Am I to die before anything is done to save me?

  Capt. Brennan (to Clitheroe) Come on, Jack. We’ve got to get help for Jim, here – have you no thought for his pain an’ danger?

  Bessie Choke th’ chicken, choke th’ chicken, choke th’ chicken!

  Clitheroe (to Nora) Loosen me, darling, let me go.

  Nora (clinging to him) No, no, no, I’ll not let you go! Come on, come up to our home, Jack, my sweetheart, my lover, my husband, an’ we’ll forget th’ last few terrible days! … I look tired now, but a few hours of happy rest in your arms will bring back th’ bloom of freshness again, an’ you will be glad, you will be glad, glad … glad!

  Lieut. Langon Oh, if I’d kep’ down only a little longer, I mightn’t ha’ been hit! Everyone else escapin’, an’ me gettin’ me belly ripped asundher! … I couldn’t scream, couldn’t even scream … D’ye think I’m really badly wounded, Bill? Me clothes seem to be all soakin’ wet … It’s blood … My God, it must be me own blood!

  Capt. Brennan (to Clitheroe) Go on, Jack, bid her goodbye with another kiss, an’ be done with it! D’ye want Langon to die in me arms while you’re dallyin’ with your Nora?

  Clitheroe (to Nora) I must go, I must go, Nora. I’m sorry we met at all … It couldn’t be helped – all other ways were blocked be th’ British … Let me go, can’t you, Nora? D’ye want me to be unthrue to me comrades?

  Nora No, I won’t let you go … I want you to be thrue to me, Jack … I’m your dearest comrade; I’m your thruest comrade … They only want th’ comfort of havin’ you in th’ same danger as themselves … Oh, Jack, I can’t let you go!

  Clitheroe You must, Nora, you must.

  Nora All last night at th’ barricades I sought you, Jack … I didn’t think of th’ danger – I could only think of you … I asked for you everywhere … Some o’ them laughed … I was pushed away, but I shoved back … Some o’ them even sthruck me … an’ I screamed an’ screamed your name!

  Clitheroe (in fear her action would give him future shame) What possessed you to make a show of yourself, like that? … What way d’ye think I’ll feel when I’m told my wife was bawlin’ for me at th’ barricades? What are you more than any other woman?

  Nora No more, maybe; but you are more to me than any other man, Jack … I didn’t mean any harm, honestly, Jack … I couldn’t help it … I shouldn’t have told you … My love for you made me mad with terror.

  Clitheroe (angrily) They’ll say now that I sent you out th’ way I’d have an excuse to bring you home … Are you goin’ to turn all th’ risks I’m takin’ into a laugh?

  Lieut. Langon Let me lie down, let me lie down, Bill; th’ pain would be easier, maybe, lyin’ down … Oh, God, have mercy on me!

  Capt. Brennan (to Langon) A few steps more, Jim, a few steps more; thry to stick it for a few steps more.

  Lieut. Langon Oh, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!

  Capt. Brennan (to Clitheroe) Are you comin’, man, or are you goin’ to make an arrangement for another honeymoon? … If you want to act th’ renegade, say so, an’ we’ll be off!

  Bessie (from above) Runnin’ from th’ Tommies – choke th’ chicken. Runnin’ from th’ Tommies – choke th’ chicken!

  Clitheroe (savagely to Brennan) Damn you, man, who wants to act th’ renegade? (to Nora) Here, let go your hold; let go, I say!

  Nora (clinging to Clitheroe, and indicating Brennan) Look, Jack, look at th’ anger in his face; look at th’ fear glintin’ in his eyes … He himself’s afraid, afraid, afraid! … He wants you to go th’ way he’ll have th’ chance of death sthrikin’ you an’ missin’ him! … Turn round an’ look at him, Jack, look at him, look at him! … His very soul is cold … shiverin’ with th’ thought of what may happen to him … It is his fear that is thryin’ to frighten you from recognizin’ th’ same fear that is in your own heart!

  Clitheroe (struggling to release himself from Nora) Damn you, woman, will you let me go!

  Capt. Brennan (fiercely, to Clitheroe) Why are you beggin’ her to let you go? Are you afraid of her, or what? Break her hold on you, man, or go up, an’ sit on her lap!

  Clitheroe tries roughly to break Nora’s hold.

  Nora (imploringly) Oh, Jack … Jack … Jack!

  Lieut. Langon (agonizingly) Brennan, a priest; I’m dyin’, I think, I’m dyin’!

  Clitheroe (to Nora) If you won’t do it quietly, I’ll have to make you! (To Brennan) Here, hold this gun, you, for a minute. (He hands the gun to Brennan.)

  Nora (pitifully) Please, Jack … You’re hurting me, Jack �
�� Honestly … Oh, you’re hurting … me! … I won’t, I won’t, I won’t! … Oh, Jack, I gave you everything you asked of me … Don’t fling me from you, now!

  Clitheroe roughly loosens her grip, and pushes her away from him. Nora sinks to the ground and lies there.

  (Weakly) Ah, Jack … Jack … Jack!

  Clitheroe (taking the gun back from Brennan) Come on, come on.

  They go out. Bessie looks at Nora lying on the street, for a few moments, then, leaving the window, she comes out, runs over to Nora, lifts her up in her arms, and carries her swiftly into the house. A short pause, then down the street is heard a wild, drunken yell; it comes nearer, and Fluther enters, frenzied, wild-eyed, mad, roaring drunk. In his arms is an earthen half-gallon jar of whiskey; streaming from one of the pockets of his coat is the arm of a new tunic shirt; on his head is a woman’s vivid blue hat with gold lacing, all of which he has looted.

  Fluther (singing in a frenzy)

  Fluther’s a jolly good fella! … Fluther’s a jolly good fella!

  Up th’ rebels! … That nobody can deny!

  (He beats on the door.) Get us a mug or a jug, or somethin’, some o’ yous, one o’ yous, will yous, before I lay one o’ yous out! … (Looking down the street) Bang an’ fire away for all Fluther cares … (Banging at door) Come down an’ open th’ door, some of yous, one o’ yous, will yous, before I lay some o’ yous out! … Th’ whole city can topple home to hell, for Fluther!

  Inside the house is heard a scream from Nora, followed by a moan.

  Fluther (singing furiously)

  That nobody can deny, that nobody can deny,

  For Fluther’s a jolly good fella, Fluther’s a jolly good fella,

  Fluther’s a jolly good fella … Up th’ rebels! That nobody can deny!

  (His frantic movements cause him to spill some of the whiskey out of the jar.) Blast you, Fluther, don’t be spillin’ th’ precious liquor! (He kicks at the door.) Ay, give us a mug or a jug or somethin’, one o’ yous, some o’ yous, will yous, before I lay one o’ yous out!

  The door suddenly opens, and Bessie, coming out, grips him by the collar.

  Bessie (indignantly) You bowsey, come in ower o’ that … I’ll thrim your thricks o’ dhrunken dancin’ for you, an’ none of us knowin’ how soon we’ll bump into a world we were never in before!

  Fluther (as she is pulling him in) Ay, th’ jar, th’ jar, th’ jar!

  A short pause, then again is heard a scream of pain from Nora. The door opens and Mrs Gogan and Bessie are seen standing at it.

  Bessie Fluther would go, only he’s too dhrunk … Oh, God, isn’t it a pity he’s so dhrunk! We’ll have to thry to get a docthor somewhere.

  Mrs Gogan I’d be afraid to go … Besides, Mollser’s terrible bad. I don’t think you’ll get a docthor to come. It’s hardly any use goin’.

  Bessie (determinedly) I’ll risk it … Give her a little of Fluther’s whiskey … It’s th’ fright that’s brought it on her so soon … Go on back to her, you.

  Mrs Gogan goes in, and Bessie softly closes the door. She is moving forward, when the sound of some rifle shots, and the tok, tok, tok of a distant machine-gun bring her to a sudden halt. She hesitates for a moment, then she tightens her shawl round her, as if it were a shield, then she firmly and swiftly goes out.

  (As she goes out) Oh, God, be Thou my help in time o’ throuble. An’ shelter me safely in th’ shadow of Thy wings!

  Curtain.

  Act Four

  The living-room of Bessie Burgess. It is one of two small attic rooms (the other, used as a bedroom, is to the left), the ceiling slopes up towards the back, giving to the apartment a look of compressed confinement. In the centre of the ceiling is a small skylight. There is an unmistakable air of poverty bordering on destitution. The paper on the walls is torn and soiled, particularly near the fire where the cooking is done, and near the washstand where the washing is done. The fireplace is to the left. A small armchair near fire. One small window at back. A pane of this window is starred by the entrance of a bullet. Under the window to the right is an oak coffin standing on two kitchen chairs. Near the coffin is a home-manufactured stool, on which are two lighted candles. Beside the window is a worn-out dresser on which is a small quantity of delft. Tattered remains of cheap lace curtains drape the window. Standing near the window on left is a brass standardlamp with a fancy shade; hanging on the wall near the same window is a vividly crimson silk dress, both of which have been looted. A door on left leading to the bedroom. Another opposite giving a way to the rest of the house. To the left of this door a common washstand. A tin kettle, very black, and an old saucepan inside the fender. There is no light in the room but that given from the two candles and the fire. The dusk has well fallen, and the glare of the burning buildings in the town can be seen through the window, in the distant sky. The Covey and Fluther have been playing cards, sitting on the floor by the light of the candles on the stool near the coffin. When the curtain rises the Covey is shuffling the cards, Peter is sitting in a stiff, dignified way beside him, and Fluther is kneeling beside the window, cautiously looking out. It is a few days later.

  Fluther (furtively peeping out of the window) Give them a good shuffling … Th’ sky’s gettin’ reddher an’ reddher … You’d think it was afire … Half o’ th’ city must be burnin’.

  The Covey If I was you, Fluther, I’d keep away from that window … It’s dangerous, an’ besides, if they see you, you’ll only bring a nose on th’ house.

  Peter Yes; an’ he knows we had to leave our own place th’ way they were riddlin’ it with machine-gun fire … He’ll keep on pimpin’ and pimpin’ there, till we have to fly out o’ this place too.

  Fluther (ironically) If they make any attack here, we’ll send you out in your green an’ glory uniform, shakin’ your sword over your head, an’ they’ll fly before you as th’ Danes flew before Brian Boru!

  The Covey (placing the cards on the floor, after shuffling them) Come on, an’ cut.

  Fluther comes over, sits on floor, and cuts the cards.

  (Having dealt the cards) Spuds up again.

  Nora moans feebly in room on left.

  Fluther There, she’s at it again. She’s been quiet for a long time, all th’ same.

  The Covey She was quiet before, sure, an’ she broke out again worse than ever … What was led that time?

  Peter Thray o’ Hearts, Thray o’ Hearts, Thray o’ Hearts.

  Fluther It’s damned hard lines to think of her dead-born kiddie lyin’ there in th’ arms o’ poor little Mollser. Mollser snuffed it sudden too, afther all.

  The Covey Sure she never got any care. How could she get it, an’ th’ mother out day an’ night lookin’ for work, an’ her consumptive husband leavin’ her with a baby to be born before he died!

  Voices (in a lilting chant to the left in a distant street) Red Cr … oss, Red Cr … oss! … Ambu … lance, Ambu … lance!

  The Covey (to Fluther) Your deal, Fluther.

  Fluther (shuffling and dealing the cards) It’ll take a lot out o’ Nora – if she’ll ever be th’ same.

  The Covey The docthor thinks she’ll never be th’ same; thinks she’ll be a little touched here. (He touches his forehead.) She’s ramblin’ a lot; thinkin’ she’s out in th’ counthry with Jack; or gettin’ his dinner ready for him before he comes home; or yellin’ for her kiddie. All that, though, might be th’ chloroform she got … I don’t know what we’d have done only for oul’ Bessie; up with her for th’ past three nights, hand runnin’.

  Fluther I always knew there was never anything really derogatory wrong with poor oul’ Bessie. (To Peter, who is taking a trick) Ay, houl’ on, there, don’t be so damn quick – that’s my thrick.

  Peter What’s your thrick? It’s my thrick, man.

  Fluther (loudly) How is it your thrick?

  Peter (answering as loudly) Didn’t I lead th’ deuce!

  Fluther You must be gettin’ blind, man; don’t you see th’ ace?r />
  Bessie (appearing at door of room, left; in a tense whisper) D’ye want to waken her again on me, when she’s just gone asleep? If she wakes will yous come an’ mind her? If I hear a whisper out o’ one o’ yous again, I’ll gut yous!

  The Covey (in a whisper) S-s-s-h. She can hear anything above a whisper.

  Peter (looking up at the ceiling) Th’ gentle an’ merciful God ’ll give th’ pair o’ yous a scawldin’ an’ a scarifyin’ one o’ these days!

  Fluther takes a bottle of whiskey from his pocket, and takes a drink.

  The Covey (to Fluther) Why don’t you spread that out, man, an’ thry to keep a sup for tomorrow?

  Fluther Spread it out? Keep a sup for tomorrow? How th’ hell does a fella know there’ll be any tomorrow? If I’m goin’ to be whipped away, let me be whipped away when it’s empty, an’ not when it’s half full! (To Bessie, who has seated herself in an armchair at the fire) How is she, now, Bessie?

  Bessie I left her sleeping quietly. When I’m listenin’ to her babblin’, I think she’ll never be much betther than she is. Her eyes have a hauntin’ way of lookin’ in instead of lookin’ out, as if her mind had been lost alive in madly minglin’ memories of th’ past … (Sleepily) Crushin’ her thoughts … together … in a fierce … an’ fanciful … (she nods her head and starts wakefully) idea that dead things are livin’, an’ livin’ things are dead … (With a start) Was that a scream I heard her give? (Reassured) Blessed God, I think I hear her screamin’ every minute! An’ it’s only there with me that I’m able to keep awake.

  The Covey She’ll sleep, maybe, for a long time, now. Ten there.

  Fluther Ten here. If she gets a long sleep, she might be all right. Peter’s th’ lone five.