酷兔英语

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PHILLY. It was no lie, maybe, for when I was a young lad there was a

graveyard beyond the house with the remnants of a man who had thighs as long
as your arm. He was a horrid man, I'm telling you, and there was many a fine

Sunday I'd put him together for fun, and he with shiny bones, you wouldn't
meet the like of these days in the cities of the world.

MAHON -- [getting up.] -- You wouldn't is it? Lay your eyes on that skull,
and tell me where and when there was another the like of it, is splintered

only from the blow of a loy.
PHILLY. Glory be to God! And who hit you at all?

MAHON -- [triumphantly.] It was my own son hit me. Would you believe that?
JIMMY. Well, there's wonders hidden in the heart of man!

PHILLY -- [suspiciously.] And what way was it done?
MAHON -- [wandering about the room.] -- I'm after walking hundreds and long

scores of miles, winning clean beds and the fill of my belly four times in the
day, and I doing nothing but telling stories of that naked truth. (He comes to

them a little aggressively.) Give me a supeen and I'll tell you now. [Widow
Quin comes in and stands aghast behind him. He is facing Jimmy and Philly,

who are on the left.]
JIMMY. Ask herself beyond. She's the stuff hidden in her shawl.

WIDOW QUIN -- [coming to Mahon quickly.] -- you here, is it? You didn't go
far at all?

MAHON. I seen the coasting steamer passing, and I got a drought upon me and a
cramping leg, so I said, "The divil go along with him," and turned again.

(Looking under her shawl.) And let you give me a supeen, for I'm destroyed
travelling since Tuesday was a week.

WIDOW QUIN -- [getting a glass, in a cajoling tone.] -- Sit down then by the
fire and take your ease for a space. You've a right to be destroyed indeed,

with your walking, and fighting, and facing the sun (giving him poteen from a
stone jar she has brought in.) There now is a drink for you, and may it be to

your happiness and length of life.
MAHON -- [taking glass greedily and sitting down by fire.] -- God increase

you!
WIDOW QUIN -- [taking men to the right stealthily.] -- Do you know what? That

man's raving from his wound to-day, for I met him a while since telling a
rambling tale of a tinker had him destroyed. Then he heard of Christy's deed,

and he up and says it was his son had cracked his skull. O isn't madness a
fright, for he'll go killing someone yet, and he thinking it's the man has

struck him so?
JIMMY -- [entirely convinced.] It's a fright, surely. I knew a party was

kicked in the head by a red mare, and he went killing horses a great while,
till he eat the insides of a clock and died after.

PHILLY -- [with suspicion.] -- Did he see Christy?
WIDOW QUIN. He didn't. (With a warning gesture.) Let you not be putting him

in mind of him, or you'll be likely summoned if there's murder done. (Looking
round at Mahon.) Whisht! He's listening. Wait now till you hear me taking

him easy and unravelling all. (She goes to Mahon.) And what way are you
feeling, mister? Are you in contentment now?

MAHON -- [slightly emotional from his drink.] -- I'm poorly only, for it's a
hard story the way I'm left to-day, when it was I did tend him from his hour

of birth, and he a dunce never reached his second book, the way he'd come from
school, many's the day, with his legs lamed under him, and he blackened with

his beatings like a tinker's ass. It's a hard story, I'm saying, the way some
do have their next and nighest raising up a hand of murder on them, and some

is lonesome getting their death with lamentation in the dead of night.
WIDOW QUIN -- [not knowing what to say.] -- To hear you talking so quiet,

who'd know you were the same fellow we seen pass to-day?
MAHON. I'm the same surely. The wrack and ruin of three score years; and

it's a terror to live that length, I tell you, and to have your sons going to
the dogs against you, and you wore out scolding them, and skelping them, and

God knows what.
PHILLY -- [to Jimmy.] -- He's not raving. (To Widow Quin.) Will you ask him

what kind was his son?
WIDOW QUIN -- [to Mahon, with a peculiar look.] -- Was your son that hit you a

lad of one year and a score maybe, a great hand at racing and lepping and
licking the world?

MAHON -- [turning on her with a roar of rage.] -- Didn't you hear me say he
was the fool of men, the way from this out he'll know the orphan's lot with

old and young making game of him and they swearing, raging, kicking at him
like a mangy cur. [A great burst of cheering outside, someway off.]

MAHON -- [putting his hands to his ears.] -- What in the name of God do they
want roaring below?

WIDOW QUIN -- [with the shade of a smile.] -- They're cheering a young lad,
the champion Playboy of the Western World. [More cheering.]

MAHON -- [going to window.] It'd split my heart to hear them, and I with
pulses in my brain-pan for a week gone by. Is it racing they are?

JIMMY -- [looking from door.] -- It is then. They are mounting him for the
mule race will be run upon the sands. That's the playboy on the winkered

mule.
MAHON [puzzled.] That lad, is it? If you said it was a fool he was, I'd

have laid a mighty oath he was the likeness of my wandering son (uneasily,
putting his hand to his head.) Faith, I'm thinking I'll go walking for to

view the race.
WIDOW QUIN -- [stopping him, sharply.] -- You will not. You'd best take the

road to Belmullet, and not be dilly-dallying in this place where there isn't a
spot you could sleep.

PHILLY -- [coming forward.] -- Don't mind her. Mount there on the bench and
you'll have a view of the whole. They're hurrying before the tide will rise,

and it'd be near over if you went down the pathway through the crags below.
MAHON [mounts on bench, Widow Quin beside him.] -- That's a right view again

the edge of the sea. They're coming now from the point. He's leading. Who
is he at all?

WIDOW QUIN. He's the champion of the world, I tell you, and there isn't a
hop'orth isn't falling lucky to his hands to-day.

PHILLY -- [looking out, interested in the race.] -- Look at that. They're
pressing him now.

JIMMY. He'll win it yet.
PHILLY. Take your time, Jimmy Farrell. It's too soon to say.

WIDOW QUIN -- [shouting.] Watch him taking the gate. There's riding.
JIMMY -- [cheering.] More power to the young lad!

MAHON. He's passing the third.
JIMMY. He'll lick them yet!

WIDOW QUIN. He'd lick them if he was running races with a score itself.
MAHON. Look at the mule he has, kicking the stars.

WIDOW QUIN. There was a lep! (catching hold of Mahon in her excitement.) He's
fallen! He's mounted again! Faith, he's passing them all!

JIMMY. Look at him skelping her!
PHILLY. And the mountain girls hooshing him on!

JIMMY. It's the last turn! The post's cleared for them now!
MAHON. Look at the narrow place. He'll be into the bogs! (With a yell.)

Good rider! He's through it again!
JIMMY. He neck and neck!

MAHON. Good boy to him! Flames, but he's in! [Great cheering, in which all
join.]

MAHON [with hesitation.] What's that? They're raising him up. They're
coming this way. (With a roar of rage and astonishment.) It's Christy! by

the stars of God! I'd know his way of spitting and he astride the moon. [He
jumps down and makes for the door, but Widow Quin catches him and pulls him

back.]
WIDOW QUIN. Stay quiet, will you. That's not your son. (To Jimmy.) Stop

him, or you'll get a month for the abetting of manslaughter and be fined as
well.

JIMMY. I'll hold him.
MAHON [struggling.] Let me out! Let me out, the lot of you! till I have my

vengeance on his head to-day.
WIDOW QUIN -- [shaking him, vehemently.] -- That's not your son. That's a man

is going to make a marriage with the daughter of this house, a place with fine
trade, with a license, and with poteen too.

MAHON -- [amazed.] That man marrying a decent and a moneyed girl! Is it mad
yous are? Is it in a crazy-house for females that I'm landed now?

WIDOW QUIN. It's mad yourself is with the blow upon your head. That lad is
the wonder of the Western World.

MAHON. I seen it's my son.
WIDOW QUIN. You seen that you're mad. (Cheering outside.) Do you hear them

cheering him in the zig-zags of the road? Aren't you after saying that your
son's a fool, and how would they be cheering a true idiot born?

MAHON -- [getting distressed.] -- It's maybe out of reason that that man's
himself. (Cheering again.) There's none surely will go cheering him. Oh, I'm

raving with a madness that would fright the world! (He sits down with his
hand to his head.) There was one time I seen ten scarlet divils letting on

they'd cork my spirit in a gallon can; and one time I seen rats as big as
badgers sucking the life blood from the butt of my lug; but I never till this

day confused that dribbling idiot with a likely man. I'm destroyed surely.
WIDOW QUIN. And who'd wonder when it's your brain-pan that is gaping now?

MAHON. Then the blight of the sacreddrought upon myself and him, for I never
went mad to this day, and I not three weeks with the Limerick girls drinking

myself silly, and parlatic from the dusk to dawn. (To Widow Quin, suddenly.)
Is my visage astray?

WIDOW QUIN. It is then. You're a sniggering maniac, a child could see.
MAHON -- [getting up more cheerfully.] -- Then I'd best be going to the union

beyond, and there'll be a welcome before me, I tell you (with great pride),
and I a terrible and fearful case, the way that there I was one time,

screeching in a straightened waistcoat, with seven doctors writing out my
sayings in a printed book. Would you believe that?

WIDOW QUIN. If you're a wonder itself, you'd best be hasty, for them lads
caught a maniac one time and pelted the poor creature till he ran out, raving

and foaming, and was drowned in the sea.
MAHON -- [with philosophy.] -- It's true mankind is the divil when your head's

astray. Let me out now and I'll slip down the boreen, and not see them so.
WIDOW QUIN -- [showing him out.] -- That's it. Run to the right, and not a

one will see. [He runs off.]
PHILLY -- [wisely.] You're at some gaming, Widow Quin; but I'll walk after

him and give him his dinner and a time to rest, and I'll see then if he's
raving or as sane as you.

WIDOW QUIN -- [annoyed.] If you go near that lad, let you be wary of your
head, I'm saying. Didn't you hear him telling he was crazed at times?

PHILLY. I heard him telling a power; and I'm thinking we'll have right sport,
before night will fall. [He goes out.]

JIMMY. Well, Philly's a conceited and foolish man. How could that madman
have his senses and his brain-pan slit? I'll go after them and see him turn

on Philly now. [He goes; Widow Quin hides poteen behind counter. Then hubbub
outside.]

VOICES. There you are! Good jumper! Grand lepper! Darlint boy! He's the
racer! Bear him on, will you! [Christy comes in, in Jockey's dress, with

Pegeen Mike, Sara, and other girls, and men.]
PEGEEN -- [to crowd.] -- Go on now and don't destroy him and he drenching with

sweat. Go along, I'm saying, and have your tug-of-warring till he's dried his
skin.

CROWD. Here's his prizes! A bagpipes! A fiddle was played by a poet in the
years gone by! A flat and three-thorned blackthorn would lick the scholars

out of Dublin town!
CHRISTY -- [taking prizes from the men.] -- Thank you kindly, the lot of you.

But you'd say it was little only I did this day if you'd seen me a while since
striking my one single blow.

TOWN CRIER -- [outside, ringing a bell.] -- Take notice, last event of this
day! Tug-of-warring on the green below! Come on, the lot of you! Great

achievements for all Mayo men!
PEGEEN. Go on, and leave him for to rest and dry. Go on, I tell you, for

he'll do no more. (She hustles crowd out; Widow Quin following them.)
MEN -- [going.] -- Come on then. Good luck for the while!

PEGEEN -- [radiantly, wiping his face with her shawl.] -- Well, you're the
lad, and you'll have great times from this out when you could win that wealth

of prizes, and you sweating in the heat of noon!
CHRISTY -- [looking at her with delight.] -- I'll have great times if I win

the crowning prize I'm seeking now, and that's your promise that you'll wed me
in a fortnight, when our banns is called.

PEGEEN -- [backing away from him.] -- You've right daring to go ask me that,
when all knows you'll be starting to some girl in your own townland, when your

father's rotten in four months, or five.
CHRISTY -- [indignantly.] Starting from you, is it? (He follows her.) I

will not, then, and when the airs is warming in four months, or five, it's
then yourself and me should be pacing Neifin in the dews of night, the times



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