章节正文
stiff. (He sighs gloomily.) What would
25
you do if it was the like of myself you were,
saying Mass with your mouth dry, and run-
ning east and west for a sick call maybe, and
hearing the rural people again and they saying
their sins?
MARY -- with compassion. -- It's destroy-
ed you must be hearing the sins of the rural
people on a fine spring.
PRIEST -- with despondency. -- It's a hard
life, I'm telling you, a hard life, Mary Byrne;
and there's the bishop coming in the morning,
and he an old man, would have you destroyed
if he seen a thing at all.
MARY -- with great sympathy. -- It'd
break my heart to hear you talking and sigh-
ing the like of that, your reverence. (She
pats him on the knee.) Let you rouse up,
now, if it's a poor, single man you are itself,
and I'll be singing you songs unto the dawn
of day.
PRIEST -- interrupting her. -- What is it
I want with your songs when it'd be better
for the like of you, that'll soon die, to be down
on your two knees saying prayers to the
Almighty God?
MARY. If it's prayers I want, you'd have
a right to say one yourself, holy father; for
we don't have them at all, and I've heard tell
a power of times it's that you're for. Say
26
one now, your reverence, for I've heard a
power of queer things and I walking the
world, but there's one thing I never heard any
time, and that's a real priestsaying a prayer.
PRIEST. The Lord protect us!
MARY. It's no lie, holy father. I often
heard the rural people making a queer noise
and they going to rest; but who'd mind the
like of them? And I'm thinking it should be
great game to hear a scholar, the like of you,
speaking Latin to the saints above.
PRIEST -- scandalized. -- Stop your talk-
ing, Mary Byrne; you're an old flagrant
heathen, and I'll stay no more with the lot of
you. [He rises.
MARY -- catching hold of him. -- Stop till
you say a prayer, your reverence; stop till you
say a little prayer, I'm telling you, and I'll
give you my blessing and the last sup from the
jug.
PRIEST -- breaking away. -- Leave me go,
Mary Byrne; for I have never met your like
for hard abominations the score and two years
I'm living in the place.
MARY -- innocently. -- Is that the truth?
PRIEST. --* It is, then, and God have mercy
on your soul.
[The priest goes towards the left, and
Sarah follows him.
27
SARAH -- in a low voice. -- And what
time will you do the thing I'm asking, holy
father? for I'm thinking you'll do it surely,
and not have me growing into an old wicked
heathen like herself.
MARY -- calling out shrilly. -- Let you be
walking back here, Sarah Casey, and not be
talking whisper-talk with the like of him in the
face of the Almighty God.
SARAH -- to the priest. -- Do you hear her
now, your reverence? Isn't it true, surely,
she's an old, flagrant heathen, would destroy
the world?
PRIEST -- to Sarah, moving off. -- Well,
I'll be coming down early to the chapel, and let
you come to me a while after you see me pas-
sing, and bring the bit of gold along with you,
and the tin can. I'll marry you for them two,
though it's a pitiful small sum; for I wouldn't
be easy in my soul if I left you growing into
an old, wickedheathen the like of her.
SARAH -- following him out. -- The bles-
sing of the Almighty God be on you, holy
father, and that He may reward and watch
you from this present day.
MARY -- nudging Michael. -- Did you see
that, Michael Byrne? Didn't you hear me
telling you she's flighty a while back since the
change of the moon? With her fussing for
28
marriage, and she making whisper-talk with
one man or another man along by the road.
MICHAEL. --* Whist now, or she'll knock
the head of you the time she comes back.
MARY. --* Ah, it's a bad, wicked way the
world is this night, if there's a fine air in it
itself. You'd never have seen me, and I a
young woman, making whisper-talk with the
like of him, and he the fearfullest old fellow
you'd see any place walking the world.
[Sarah comes back quickly.
MARY -- calling out to her. -- What is it
you're after whispering above with himself?
SARAH -- exultingly. -- Lie down, and
leave us in peace. She whispers with Michael.
MARY -- poking out her pipe with a straw,
sings --
She'd whisper with one, and she'd whisper
with two --
She breaks off coughing. -- My singing voice
is gone for this night, Sarah Casey. (She
lights her pipe.) But if it's flighty you are
itself, you're a grand handsome woman, the
glory of tinkers, the pride of Wicklow, the
Beauty of Ballinacree. I wouldn't have you
lying down and you lonesome to sleep this
night in a dark ditch when the spring is coming
in the trees; so let you sit down there by the
big bough, and I'll be telling you the finest
29
story you'd hear any place from Dundalk to
Ballinacree, with great queens in it, making
themselves matches from the start to the end,
and they with shiny silks on them the length
of the day, and white shifts for the night.
MICHAEL -- standing up with the tin can
in his hand. -- Let you go asleep, and not have
us destroyed.
MARY -- lying back sleepily. -- Don't mind
him, Sarah Casey. Sit down now, and I'll be
telling you a story would be fit to tell a woman
the like of you in the springtime of the year.
SARAH -- taking the can from Michael,
and tying it up in a piece of sacking. -- That'll
not be rusting now in the dews of night. I'll
put it up in the ditch the way it will be handy
in the morning; and now we've that done,
Michael Byrne, I'll go along with you and
welcome for Tim Flaherty's hens.
[She puts the can in the ditch.
MARY -- sleepily. -- I've a grand story of
the great queens of Ireland with white necks
on them the like of Sarah Casey, and fine
arms would hit you a slap the way Sarah
Casey would hit you.
SARAH -- beckoning on the left. -- Come
along now, Michael, while she's falling asleep.
30
[He goes towards left. Mary sees that
they are going, starts up suddenly, and
turns over on her hands and knees.
MARY -- piteously. -- Where is it you're
going? Let you walk back here, and not be
leaving me lonesome when the night is fine.
SARAH. Don't be waking the world with
your talk when we're going up through the
back wood to get two of Tim Flaherty's hens
are roosting in the ash-tree above at the well.
MARY. And it's leaving me lone you are?
Come back here, Sarah Casey. Come back
here, I'm saying; or if it's off you must go,
leave me the two little coppers you have, the
way I can walk up in a short while, and get
another pint for my sleep.
SARAH. It's too much you have taken.
Let you stretch yourself out and take a long
sleep; for isn't that the best thing any woman
can do, and she an old drinking heathen like
yourself.
[She and Michael go out left.
MARY -- standing up slowly. -- It's gone
they are, and I with my feet that weak under
me you'd knock me down with a rush, and
my head with a noise in it the like of what
31
you'd hear in a stream and it running between
two rocks and rain falling. (She goes over to
the ditch where the can is tied in sacking, and
takes it down.) What good am I this night,
God help me? What good are the grand
stories I have when it's few would listen to
an old woman, few but a girl maybe would
be in great fear the time her hour was come,
or a little child wouldn't be sleeping with the
hunger on a cold night? (She takes the can
from the sacking and fits in three empty bottles
and straw in its place, and ties them up.)
Maybe the two of them have a good right to
be walking out the little short while they'd be
young; but if they have itself, they'll not
keep Mary Byrne from her full pint when
the night's fine, and there's a dry moon in the
sky. (She takes up the can, and puts the
package back in the ditch.) Jemmy Neill's a
decent lad; and he'll give me a good drop for
the can; and maybe if I keep near the peelers
to-morrow for the first bit of the fair, herself
won't strike me at all; and if she does itself,
what's a little stroke on your head beside
25
you do if it was the like of myself you were,
saying Mass with your mouth dry, and run-
ning east and west for a sick call maybe, and
hearing the rural people again and they saying
their sins?
MARY -- with compassion. -- It's destroy-
ed you must be hearing the sins of the rural
people on a fine spring.
PRIEST -- with despondency. -- It's a hard
life, I'm telling you, a hard life, Mary Byrne;
and there's the bishop coming in the morning,
and he an old man, would have you destroyed
if he seen a thing at all.
MARY -- with great sympathy. -- It'd
break my heart to hear you talking and sigh-
ing the like of that, your reverence. (She
pats him on the knee.) Let you rouse up,
now, if it's a poor, single man you are itself,
and I'll be singing you songs unto the dawn
of day.
PRIEST -- interrupting her. -- What is it
I want with your songs when it'd be better
for the like of you, that'll soon die, to be down
on your two knees saying prayers to the
Almighty God?
MARY. If it's prayers I want, you'd have
a right to say one yourself, holy father; for
we don't have them at all, and I've heard tell
a power of times it's that you're for. Say
26
one now, your reverence, for I've heard a
power of queer things and I walking the
world, but there's one thing I never heard any
time, and that's a real priestsaying a prayer.
PRIEST. The Lord protect us!
MARY. It's no lie, holy father. I often
heard the rural people making a queer noise
and they going to rest; but who'd mind the
like of them? And I'm thinking it should be
great game to hear a scholar, the like of you,
speaking Latin to the saints above.
PRIEST -- scandalized. -- Stop your talk-
ing, Mary Byrne; you're an old flagrant
heathen, and I'll stay no more with the lot of
you. [He rises.
MARY -- catching hold of him. -- Stop till
you say a prayer, your reverence; stop till you
say a little prayer, I'm telling you, and I'll
give you my blessing and the last sup from the
jug.
PRIEST -- breaking away. -- Leave me go,
Mary Byrne; for I have never met your like
for hard abominations the score and two years
I'm living in the place.
MARY -- innocently. -- Is that the truth?
PRIEST. --* It is, then, and God have mercy
on your soul.
[The priest goes towards the left, and
Sarah follows him.
27
SARAH -- in a low voice. -- And what
time will you do the thing I'm asking, holy
father? for I'm thinking you'll do it surely,
and not have me growing into an old wicked
heathen like herself.
MARY -- calling out shrilly. -- Let you be
walking back here, Sarah Casey, and not be
talking whisper-talk with the like of him in the
face of the Almighty God.
SARAH -- to the priest. -- Do you hear her
now, your reverence? Isn't it true, surely,
she's an old, flagrant heathen, would destroy
the world?
PRIEST -- to Sarah, moving off. -- Well,
I'll be coming down early to the chapel, and let
you come to me a while after you see me pas-
sing, and bring the bit of gold along with you,
and the tin can. I'll marry you for them two,
though it's a pitiful small sum; for I wouldn't
be easy in my soul if I left you growing into
an old, wickedheathen the like of her.
SARAH -- following him out. -- The bles-
sing of the Almighty God be on you, holy
father, and that He may reward and watch
you from this present day.
MARY -- nudging Michael. -- Did you see
that, Michael Byrne? Didn't you hear me
telling you she's flighty a while back since the
change of the moon? With her fussing for
28
marriage, and she making whisper-talk with
one man or another man along by the road.
MICHAEL. --* Whist now, or she'll knock
the head of you the time she comes back.
MARY. --* Ah, it's a bad, wicked way the
world is this night, if there's a fine air in it
itself. You'd never have seen me, and I a
young woman, making whisper-talk with the
like of him, and he the fearfullest old fellow
you'd see any place walking the world.
[Sarah comes back quickly.
MARY -- calling out to her. -- What is it
you're after whispering above with himself?
SARAH -- exultingly. -- Lie down, and
leave us in peace. She whispers with Michael.
MARY -- poking out her pipe with a straw,
sings --
She'd whisper with one, and she'd whisper
with two --
She breaks off coughing. -- My singing voice
is gone for this night, Sarah Casey. (She
lights her pipe.) But if it's flighty you are
itself, you're a grand handsome woman, the
glory of tinkers, the pride of Wicklow, the
Beauty of Ballinacree. I wouldn't have you
lying down and you lonesome to sleep this
night in a dark ditch when the spring is coming
in the trees; so let you sit down there by the
big bough, and I'll be telling you the finest
29
story you'd hear any place from Dundalk to
Ballinacree, with great queens in it, making
themselves matches from the start to the end,
and they with shiny silks on them the length
of the day, and white shifts for the night.
MICHAEL -- standing up with the tin can
in his hand. -- Let you go asleep, and not have
us destroyed.
MARY -- lying back sleepily. -- Don't mind
him, Sarah Casey. Sit down now, and I'll be
telling you a story would be fit to tell a woman
the like of you in the springtime of the year.
SARAH -- taking the can from Michael,
and tying it up in a piece of sacking. -- That'll
not be rusting now in the dews of night. I'll
put it up in the ditch the way it will be handy
in the morning; and now we've that done,
Michael Byrne, I'll go along with you and
welcome for Tim Flaherty's hens.
[She puts the can in the ditch.
MARY -- sleepily. -- I've a grand story of
the great queens of Ireland with white necks
on them the like of Sarah Casey, and fine
arms would hit you a slap the way Sarah
Casey would hit you.
SARAH -- beckoning on the left. -- Come
along now, Michael, while she's falling asleep.
30
[He goes towards left. Mary sees that
they are going, starts up suddenly, and
turns over on her hands and knees.
MARY -- piteously. -- Where is it you're
going? Let you walk back here, and not be
leaving me lonesome when the night is fine.
SARAH. Don't be waking the world with
your talk when we're going up through the
back wood to get two of Tim Flaherty's hens
are roosting in the ash-tree above at the well.
MARY. And it's leaving me lone you are?
Come back here, Sarah Casey. Come back
here, I'm saying; or if it's off you must go,
leave me the two little coppers you have, the
way I can walk up in a short while, and get
another pint for my sleep.
SARAH. It's too much you have taken.
Let you stretch yourself out and take a long
sleep; for isn't that the best thing any woman
can do, and she an old drinking heathen like
yourself.
[She and Michael go out left.
MARY -- standing up slowly. -- It's gone
they are, and I with my feet that weak under
me you'd knock me down with a rush, and
my head with a noise in it the like of what
31
you'd hear in a stream and it running between
two rocks and rain falling. (She goes over to
the ditch where the can is tied in sacking, and
takes it down.) What good am I this night,
God help me? What good are the grand
stories I have when it's few would listen to
an old woman, few but a girl maybe would
be in great fear the time her hour was come,
or a little child wouldn't be sleeping with the
hunger on a cold night? (She takes the can
from the sacking and fits in three empty bottles
and straw in its place, and ties them up.)
Maybe the two of them have a good right to
be walking out the little short while they'd be
young; but if they have itself, they'll not
keep Mary Byrne from her full pint when
the night's fine, and there's a dry moon in the
sky. (She takes up the can, and puts the
package back in the ditch.) Jemmy Neill's a
decent lad; and he'll give me a good drop for
the can; and maybe if I keep near the peelers
to-morrow for the first bit of the fair, herself
won't strike me at all; and if she does itself,
what's a little stroke on your head beside
- bishop [´biʃəp]
n.主教 (初中英语单词) - sympathy [´simpəθi] n.同情，怜悯 (初中英语单词)
- priest [pri:st] n.教士；牧师；神父 (初中英语单词)
- scholar [´skɔlə, ´skɑ-] n.学者；奖学金获得者 (初中英语单词)
- blessing [´blesiŋ] n.祝福 (初中英语单词)
- chapel [´tʃæpəl] n.小教堂 (初中英语单词)
- wicked [´wikid] a.邪恶的；不道德的 (初中英语单词)
- reward [ri´wɔ:d] n.&v.报答；报酬；奖赏 (初中英语单词)
- whisper [´wispə] v.耳语 n.低语；沙沙声 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- stream [stri:m] n.河 vi.流出；飘扬 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- reverence [´revərəns] n.尊敬；敬畏；尊严 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- heathen [´hi:ðən] n.异教徒 (高中英语单词)
- pitiful [´pitifəl] a.可怜的；慈悲的 (高中英语单词)
- lonesome [´ləunsəm] a.孤独的；冷清清的 (高中英语单词)
- ireland [´aiələnd] n.爱尔兰 (高中英语单词)
- compassion [kəm´pæʃən] n.同情；怜悯 (英语四级单词)
- almighty [ɔ:l´maiti] a.万能的；全能的 (英语四级单词)
- springtime [´spriŋtaim] n.春季；青春期 (英语四级单词)
- innocently [´inəsntli] ad.天真地，单纯地 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- shrilly [´ʃrili] ad.尖声地 (英语六级单词)
- sleepily [´sli:pili] ad.瞌睡地；懒散地 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- piteously [´pitiəsli] ad.可怜地；凄惨地 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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