章节正文
MARTIN DOUL -- [stands a moment with his hand to his eyes.] --
And that's the last thing I'm to set my sight on in the life of
the world -- the villainy of a woman and the bloody strength of a
man. Oh, God, pity a poor, blind fellow, the way I am this day
with no strength in me to do hurt to them at all. (He begins
groping about for a moment, then stops.) Yet if I've no strength
in me I've a voice left for my prayers, and may God blight them
this day, and my own soul the same hour with them, the way I'll
see them after, Molly Byrne and Timmy the smith, the two of them
on a high bed, and they screeching in hell. . . . It'll be a
grand thing that time to look on the two of them; and they
twisting and roaring out, and twisting and roaring again, one day
and the next day, and each day always and ever. It's not blind
I'll be that time, and it won't be hell to me, I'm thinking, but
the like of heaven itself; and it's fine care I'll be taking the
Lord Almighty doesn't know. [He turns to grope out.]
CURTAIN
ACT III
[The same Scene as in first Act, but gap in centre has been
filled with briars, or branches of some sort. Mary Doul, blind
again, gropes her way in on left, and sits as before. She has a
few rushes with her. It is an early spring day.
MARY DOUL -- [mournfully.] -- Ah, God help me . . . God help me;
the blackness wasn't so black at all the other time as it is this
time, and it's destroyed I'll be now, and hard set to get my
living working alone, when it's few are passing and the winds are
cold. (She begins shredding rushes.) I'm thinking short days
will be long days to me from this time, and I sitting here, not
seeing a blink, or hearing a word, and no thought in my mind but
long prayers that Martin Doul'll get his reward in a short while
for the villainy of his heart. It's great jokes the people'll be
making now, I'm thinking, and they pass me by, pointing their
fingers maybe, and asking what place is himself, the way it's no
quiet or decency I'll have from this day till I'm an old woman
with long white hair and it twisting from my brow. (She fumbles
with her hair, and then seems to hear something. Listens for a
moment.) There's a queer, slouching step coming on the road. . .
. God help me, he's coming surely.
[She stays perfectly quiet. Martin Doul gropes in on right,
blind also.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [gloomily.] -- The devil mend Mary Doul for
putting lies on me, and letting on she was grand. The devil mend
the old Saint for letting me see it was lies. (He sits down near
her.) The devil mend Timmy the smith for killing me with hard
work, and keeping me with an empty, windy stomach in me, in the
day and in the night. Ten thousand devils mend the soul of Molly
Byrne -- (Mary Doul nods her head with approval.) -- and the bad,
wicked souls is hidden in all the women of the world. (He rocks
himself, with his hand over his face.) It's lonesome I'll be
from this day, and if living people is a bad lot, yet Mary Doul,
herself, and she a dirty, wrinkled-looking hag, was better maybe
to be sitting along with than no one at all. I'll be getting my
death now, I'm thinking, sitting alone in the cold air, hearing
the night coming, and the blackbirds flying round in the briars
crying to themselves, the time you'll hear one cart getting off a
long way in the east, and another cart getting off a long way in
the west, and a dog barking maybe, and a little wind turning the
sticks. (He listens and sighs heavily.) I'll be destroyed
sitting alone and losing my senses this time the way I'm after
losing my sight, for it'd make any person afeard to be sitting up
hearing the sound of his breath -- (he moves his feet on the
stones) -- and the noise of his feet, when it's a power of queer
things do be stirring, little sticks breaking, and the grass
moving -- (Mary Doul half sighs, and he turns on her in horror)
-- till you'd take your dying oath on sun and moon a thing was
breathing on the stones. (He listens towards her for a moment,
then starts up nervously, and gropes about for his stick.) I'll
be going now, I'm thinking, but I'm not sure what place my
stick's in, and I'm destroyed with terror and dread. (He touches
her face as he is groping about and cries out.) There's a thing
with a cold, living face on it sitting up at my side. (He turns
to run away, but misses his path and stumbles in against the
wall.) My road is lost on me now! Oh, merciful God, set my foot
on the path this day, and I'll be saying prayers morning and
night, and not straining my ear after young girls, or doing any
bad thing till I die.
MARY DOUL -- [indignantly.] -- Let you not be telling lies to the
Almighty God.
MARTIN DOUL. Mary Doul, is it? (Recovering himself with immense
relief.) Is it Mary Doul, I'm saying?
MARY DOUL. There's a sweet tone in your voice I've not heard for
a space. You're taking me for Molly Byrne, I'm thinking.
MARTIN DOUL -- [coming towards her, wiping sweat from his face.]
-- Well, sight's a queer thing for upsetting a man. It's a queer
thing to think I'd live to this day to be fearing the like of
you; but if it's shaken I am for a short while, I'll soon be
coming to myself.
MARY DOUL. You'll be grand then, and it's no lie.
MARTIN DOUL -- [sitting down shyly, some way off.] -- You've no
call to be talking, for I've heard tell you're as blind as
myself.
MARY DOUL. If I am I'm bearing in mind I'm married to a little
dark stump of a fellow looks the fool of the world, and I'll be
bearing in mind from this day the great hullabuloo he's after
making from hearing a poor woman breathing quiet in her place.
MARTIN DOUL. And you'll be bearing in mind, I'm thinking, what
you seen a while back when you looked down into a well, or a
clear pool, maybe, when there was no wind stirring and a good
light in the sky.
MARY DOUL. I'm minding that surely, for if I'm not the way the
liars were saying below I seen a thing in them pools put joy and
blessing in my heart. [She puts her hand to her hair again.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [laughing ironically.] -- Well, they were saying
below I was losing my senses, but I never went any day the length
of that. . . . God help you, Mary Doul, if you're not a wonder
for looks, you're the maddest female woman is walking the
counties of the east.
MARY DOUL -- [scornfully.] You were saying all times you'd a
great ear for hearing the lies of the world. A great ear, God
help you, and you think you're using it now.
MARTIN DOUL. If it's not lies you're telling would you have me
think you're not a wrinkled poor woman is looking like three
scores, or two scores and a half!
MARY DOUL. I would not, Martin. (She leans forward earnestly.)
For when I seen myself in them pools, I seen my hair would be
gray or white, maybe, in a short while, and I seen with it that
I'd a face would be a great wonder when it'll have soft white
hair falling around it, the way when I'm an old woman there won't
be the like of me surely in the seven counties of the east.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with real admiration.] -- You're a cute thinking
woman, Mary Doul, and it's no lie.
MARY DOUL -- [triumphantly.] -- I am, surely, and I'm telling you
a beautiful white-haired woman is a grand thing to see, for I'm
told when Kitty Bawn was selling poteen below, the young men
itself would never tire to be looking in her face.
MARTIN DOUL -- [taking off his hat and feeling his head, speaking
with hesitation.] -- Did you think to look, Mary Doul, would
there be a whiteness the like of that coming upon me?
MARY DOUL -- [with extreme contempt.] -- On you, God help you! .
. . In a short while you'll have a head on you as bald as an old
turnip you'd see rolling round in the muck. You need never talk
again of your fine looks, Martin Doul, for the day of that talk's
gone for ever.
MARTIN DOUL. That's a hard word to be saying, for I was thinking
if I'd a bit of comfort, the like of yourself, it's not far off
we'd be from the good days went before, and that'd be a wonder
surely. But I'll never rest easy, thinking you're a gray,
beautiful woman, and myself a pitiful show.
MARY DOUL. I can't help your looks, Martin Doul. It wasn't
myself made you with your rat's eyes, and your big ears, and your
griseldy chin.
MARTIN DOUL -- [rubs his chin ruefully, then beams with delight.]
-- There's one thing you've forgot, if you're a cute thinking
woman itself.
MARY DOUL. Your slouching feet, is it? Or your hooky neck, or
your two knees is black with knocking one on the other?
MARTIN DOUL -- [with delighted scorn.] -- There's talking for a
cute woman. There's talking, surely!
MARY DOUL -- [puzzled at joy of his voice.] -- If you'd anything
but lies to say you'd be talking to yourself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [bursting with excitement.] -- I've this to say,
Mary Doul. I'll be letting my beard grow in a short while, a
beautiful, long, white, silken, streamy beard, you wouldn't see
the like of in the eastern world. . . . Ah, a white beard's a
grand thing on an old man, a grand thing for making the quality
stop and be stretching out their hands with good silver or gold,
and a beard's a thing you'll never have, so you may be holding
your tongue.
MARY DOUL -- [laughing cheerfully.] -- Well, we're a great pair,
surely, and it's great times we'll have yet, maybe, and great
talking before we die.
MARTIN DOUL. Great times from this day, with the help of the
Almighty God, for a priest itself would believe the lies of an
old man would have a fine white beard growing on his chin.
MARY DOUL. There's the sound of one of them twittering yellow
birds do be coming in the spring-time from beyond the sea, and
there'll be a fine warmth now in the sun, and a sweetness in the
air, the way it'll be a grand thing to be sitting here quiet and
easy smelling the things growing up, and budding from the earth.
MARTIN DOUL. I'm smelling the furze a while back sprouting on
the hill, and if you'd hold your tongue you'd hear the lambs of
Grianan, though it's near drowned their crying is with the full
river making noises in the glen.
MARY DOUL -- [listens.] -- The lambs is bleating, surely, and
there's cocks and laying hens making a fine stir a mile off on
the face of the hill. (She starts.)
MARTIN DOUL. What's that is sounding in the west? [A faint sound
of a bell is heard.]
MARY DOUL. It's not the churches, for the wind's blowing from
the sea.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with dismay.] -- It's the old Saint, I'm
thinking, ringing his bell.
MARY DOUL. The Lord protect us from the saints of God! (They
listen.) He's coming this road, surely.
MARTIN DOUL -- [tentatively.] -- Will we be running off, Mary
Doul?
MARY DOUL. What place would we run?
MARTIN DOUL. There's the little path going up through the
sloughs. . . . If we reached the bank above, where the elders do
be growing, no person would see a sight of us, if it was a
hundred yeomen were passing itself; but I'm afeard after the time
we were with our sight we'll not find our way to it at all.
MARY DOUL -- [standing up.] -- You'd find the way, surely.
You're a grand man the world knows at finding your way winter or
summer, if there was deep snow in it itself, or thick grass and
leaves, maybe, growing from the earth.
MARTIN DOUL -- [taking her hand.] -- Come a bit this way; it's
here it begins. (They grope about gap.) There's a tree pulled
into the gap, or a strange thing happened, since I was passing it
before.
MARY DOUL. Would we have a right to be crawling in below under
And that's the last thing I'm to set my sight on in the life of
the world -- the villainy of a woman and the bloody strength of a
man. Oh, God, pity a poor, blind fellow, the way I am this day
with no strength in me to do hurt to them at all. (He begins
groping about for a moment, then stops.) Yet if I've no strength
in me I've a voice left for my prayers, and may God blight them
this day, and my own soul the same hour with them, the way I'll
see them after, Molly Byrne and Timmy the smith, the two of them
on a high bed, and they screeching in hell. . . . It'll be a
grand thing that time to look on the two of them; and they
twisting and roaring out, and twisting and roaring again, one day
and the next day, and each day always and ever. It's not blind
I'll be that time, and it won't be hell to me, I'm thinking, but
the like of heaven itself; and it's fine care I'll be taking the
Lord Almighty doesn't know. [He turns to grope out.]
CURTAIN
ACT III
[The same Scene as in first Act, but gap in centre has been
filled with briars, or branches of some sort. Mary Doul, blind
again, gropes her way in on left, and sits as before. She has a
few rushes with her. It is an early spring day.
MARY DOUL -- [mournfully.] -- Ah, God help me . . . God help me;
the blackness wasn't so black at all the other time as it is this
time, and it's destroyed I'll be now, and hard set to get my
living working alone, when it's few are passing and the winds are
cold. (She begins shredding rushes.) I'm thinking short days
will be long days to me from this time, and I sitting here, not
seeing a blink, or hearing a word, and no thought in my mind but
long prayers that Martin Doul'll get his reward in a short while
for the villainy of his heart. It's great jokes the people'll be
making now, I'm thinking, and they pass me by, pointing their
fingers maybe, and asking what place is himself, the way it's no
quiet or decency I'll have from this day till I'm an old woman
with long white hair and it twisting from my brow. (She fumbles
with her hair, and then seems to hear something. Listens for a
moment.) There's a queer, slouching step coming on the road. . .
. God help me, he's coming surely.
[She stays perfectly quiet. Martin Doul gropes in on right,
blind also.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [gloomily.] -- The devil mend Mary Doul for
putting lies on me, and letting on she was grand. The devil mend
the old Saint for letting me see it was lies. (He sits down near
her.) The devil mend Timmy the smith for killing me with hard
work, and keeping me with an empty, windy stomach in me, in the
day and in the night. Ten thousand devils mend the soul of Molly
Byrne -- (Mary Doul nods her head with approval.) -- and the bad,
wicked souls is hidden in all the women of the world. (He rocks
himself, with his hand over his face.) It's lonesome I'll be
from this day, and if living people is a bad lot, yet Mary Doul,
herself, and she a dirty, wrinkled-looking hag, was better maybe
to be sitting along with than no one at all. I'll be getting my
death now, I'm thinking, sitting alone in the cold air, hearing
the night coming, and the blackbirds flying round in the briars
crying to themselves, the time you'll hear one cart getting off a
long way in the east, and another cart getting off a long way in
the west, and a dog barking maybe, and a little wind turning the
sticks. (He listens and sighs heavily.) I'll be destroyed
sitting alone and losing my senses this time the way I'm after
losing my sight, for it'd make any person afeard to be sitting up
hearing the sound of his breath -- (he moves his feet on the
stones) -- and the noise of his feet, when it's a power of queer
things do be stirring, little sticks breaking, and the grass
moving -- (Mary Doul half sighs, and he turns on her in horror)
-- till you'd take your dying oath on sun and moon a thing was
breathing on the stones. (He listens towards her for a moment,
then starts up nervously, and gropes about for his stick.) I'll
be going now, I'm thinking, but I'm not sure what place my
stick's in, and I'm destroyed with terror and dread. (He touches
her face as he is groping about and cries out.) There's a thing
with a cold, living face on it sitting up at my side. (He turns
to run away, but misses his path and stumbles in against the
wall.) My road is lost on me now! Oh, merciful God, set my foot
on the path this day, and I'll be saying prayers morning and
night, and not straining my ear after young girls, or doing any
bad thing till I die.
MARY DOUL -- [indignantly.] -- Let you not be telling lies to the
Almighty God.
MARTIN DOUL. Mary Doul, is it? (Recovering himself with immense
relief.) Is it Mary Doul, I'm saying?
MARY DOUL. There's a sweet tone in your voice I've not heard for
a space. You're taking me for Molly Byrne, I'm thinking.
MARTIN DOUL -- [coming towards her, wiping sweat from his face.]
-- Well, sight's a queer thing for upsetting a man. It's a queer
thing to think I'd live to this day to be fearing the like of
you; but if it's shaken I am for a short while, I'll soon be
coming to myself.
MARY DOUL. You'll be grand then, and it's no lie.
MARTIN DOUL -- [sitting down shyly, some way off.] -- You've no
call to be talking, for I've heard tell you're as blind as
myself.
MARY DOUL. If I am I'm bearing in mind I'm married to a little
dark stump of a fellow looks the fool of the world, and I'll be
bearing in mind from this day the great hullabuloo he's after
making from hearing a poor woman breathing quiet in her place.
MARTIN DOUL. And you'll be bearing in mind, I'm thinking, what
you seen a while back when you looked down into a well, or a
clear pool, maybe, when there was no wind stirring and a good
light in the sky.
MARY DOUL. I'm minding that surely, for if I'm not the way the
liars were saying below I seen a thing in them pools put joy and
blessing in my heart. [She puts her hand to her hair again.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [laughing ironically.] -- Well, they were saying
below I was losing my senses, but I never went any day the length
of that. . . . God help you, Mary Doul, if you're not a wonder
for looks, you're the maddest female woman is walking the
counties of the east.
MARY DOUL -- [scornfully.] You were saying all times you'd a
great ear for hearing the lies of the world. A great ear, God
help you, and you think you're using it now.
MARTIN DOUL. If it's not lies you're telling would you have me
think you're not a wrinkled poor woman is looking like three
scores, or two scores and a half!
MARY DOUL. I would not, Martin. (She leans forward earnestly.)
For when I seen myself in them pools, I seen my hair would be
gray or white, maybe, in a short while, and I seen with it that
I'd a face would be a great wonder when it'll have soft white
hair falling around it, the way when I'm an old woman there won't
be the like of me surely in the seven counties of the east.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with real admiration.] -- You're a cute thinking
woman, Mary Doul, and it's no lie.
MARY DOUL -- [triumphantly.] -- I am, surely, and I'm telling you
a beautiful white-haired woman is a grand thing to see, for I'm
told when Kitty Bawn was selling poteen below, the young men
itself would never tire to be looking in her face.
MARTIN DOUL -- [taking off his hat and feeling his head, speaking
with hesitation.] -- Did you think to look, Mary Doul, would
there be a whiteness the like of that coming upon me?
MARY DOUL -- [with extreme contempt.] -- On you, God help you! .
. . In a short while you'll have a head on you as bald as an old
turnip you'd see rolling round in the muck. You need never talk
again of your fine looks, Martin Doul, for the day of that talk's
gone for ever.
MARTIN DOUL. That's a hard word to be saying, for I was thinking
if I'd a bit of comfort, the like of yourself, it's not far off
we'd be from the good days went before, and that'd be a wonder
surely. But I'll never rest easy, thinking you're a gray,
beautiful woman, and myself a pitiful show.
MARY DOUL. I can't help your looks, Martin Doul. It wasn't
myself made you with your rat's eyes, and your big ears, and your
griseldy chin.
MARTIN DOUL -- [rubs his chin ruefully, then beams with delight.]
-- There's one thing you've forgot, if you're a cute thinking
woman itself.
MARY DOUL. Your slouching feet, is it? Or your hooky neck, or
your two knees is black with knocking one on the other?
MARTIN DOUL -- [with delighted scorn.] -- There's talking for a
cute woman. There's talking, surely!
MARY DOUL -- [puzzled at joy of his voice.] -- If you'd anything
but lies to say you'd be talking to yourself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [bursting with excitement.] -- I've this to say,
Mary Doul. I'll be letting my beard grow in a short while, a
beautiful, long, white, silken, streamy beard, you wouldn't see
the like of in the eastern world. . . . Ah, a white beard's a
grand thing on an old man, a grand thing for making the quality
stop and be stretching out their hands with good silver or gold,
and a beard's a thing you'll never have, so you may be holding
your tongue.
MARY DOUL -- [laughing cheerfully.] -- Well, we're a great pair,
surely, and it's great times we'll have yet, maybe, and great
talking before we die.
MARTIN DOUL. Great times from this day, with the help of the
Almighty God, for a priest itself would believe the lies of an
old man would have a fine white beard growing on his chin.
MARY DOUL. There's the sound of one of them twittering yellow
birds do be coming in the spring-time from beyond the sea, and
there'll be a fine warmth now in the sun, and a sweetness in the
air, the way it'll be a grand thing to be sitting here quiet and
easy smelling the things growing up, and budding from the earth.
MARTIN DOUL. I'm smelling the furze a while back sprouting on
the hill, and if you'd hold your tongue you'd hear the lambs of
Grianan, though it's near drowned their crying is with the full
river making noises in the glen.
MARY DOUL -- [listens.] -- The lambs is bleating, surely, and
there's cocks and laying hens making a fine stir a mile off on
the face of the hill. (She starts.)
MARTIN DOUL. What's that is sounding in the west? [A faint sound
of a bell is heard.]
MARY DOUL. It's not the churches, for the wind's blowing from
the sea.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with dismay.] -- It's the old Saint, I'm
thinking, ringing his bell.
MARY DOUL. The Lord protect us from the saints of God! (They
listen.) He's coming this road, surely.
MARTIN DOUL -- [tentatively.] -- Will we be running off, Mary
Doul?
MARY DOUL. What place would we run?
MARTIN DOUL. There's the little path going up through the
sloughs. . . . If we reached the bank above, where the elders do
be growing, no person would see a sight of us, if it was a
hundred yeomen were passing itself; but I'm afeard after the time
we were with our sight we'll not find our way to it at all.
MARY DOUL -- [standing up.] -- You'd find the way, surely.
You're a grand man the world knows at finding your way winter or
summer, if there was deep snow in it itself, or thick grass and
leaves, maybe, growing from the earth.
MARTIN DOUL -- [taking her hand.] -- Come a bit this way; it's
here it begins. (They grope about gap.) There's a tree pulled
into the gap, or a strange thing happened, since I was passing it
before.
MARY DOUL. Would we have a right to be crawling in below under
- bloody [´blʌdi]
a.(流)血的；血腥的 (初中英语单词) - working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- reward [ri´wɔ:d] n.&v.报答；报酬；奖赏 (初中英语单词)
- stomach [´stʌmək] n.胃；胃口，食欲 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- terror [´terə] n.恐怖；惊骇 (初中英语单词)
- shaken [´ʃeikən] shake的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- female [´fi:meil] a.女(性)的 n.女人 (初中英语单词)
- extreme [ik´stri:m] a.尽头的 n.极端 (初中英语单词)
- priest [pri:st] n.教士；牧师；神父 (初中英语单词)
- warmth [wɔ:mθ] n.温暖；热情；激动 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- lonesome [´ləunsəm] a.孤独的；冷清清的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- bearing [´beəriŋ] n.举止；忍耐；关系 (高中英语单词)
- pitiful [´pitifəl] a.可怜的；慈悲的 (高中英语单词)
- silken [´silkən] a.丝制的；柔软光滑的 (高中英语单词)
- sweetness [´swi:tnis] n.甜蜜；芳香；亲切 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- blight [blait] n.打击 vt.摧残 (英语四级单词)
- almighty [ɔ:l´maiti] a.万能的；全能的 (英语四级单词)
- blackness [´blæknis] n.黑色；阴险 (英语四级单词)
- stirring [´stə:riŋ] a.活跃的；热闹的 (英语四级单词)
- nervously [´nə:vəsli] ad.神经质地；胆怯地 (英语四级单词)
- delighted [di´laitid] a.高兴的；喜欢的 (英语四级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- decency [´di:sənsi] n.正派；体面 (英语六级单词)
- merciful [´mə:sifəl] a.仁慈的；宽大的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
