章节正文
The Well of the Saints
by J. M. Synge
A Comedy in Three Acts
SCENE
Some lonelymountainous district in the east of Ireland one or
more centuries ago.
THE WELL OF THE SAINTS was first produced in the Abbey Theatre in
February, 1905, by the Irish National Theatre Society, under the
direction of W. G. Fay, and with the following cast.
Martin Doul W. G. FAY
Mary Doul EMMA VERNON
Timmy GEORGE ROBERTS
Molly Byrne SARA ALLGOOD
Bride MAIRE NIC SHIUBHLAIGH
Mat Simon P. MAC SHIUBHLAIGH
The Saint F. J. FAY
OTHER GIRLS AND MEN
MARTIN DOUL, weather-beaten, blind beggar
MARY DOUL, his Wife, weather-beaten, ugly woman, blind also,
nearly fifty
TIMMY, a middle-aged, almost elderly, but vigorous smith
MOLLY BYRNE, fine-looking girl with fair hair
BRIDE, another handsome girl
MAT SIMON
THE SAINT, a wandering Friar
OTHER GIRLS AND MEN
THE WELL OF THE SAINTS
ACT I
[Roadside with big stones, etc., on the right; low loose wall at
back with gap near centre; at left, ruined doorway of church with
bushes beside it. Martin Doul and Mary Doul grope in on left and
pass over to stones on right, where they sit.]
MARY DOUL. What place are we now, Martin Doul?
MARTIN DOUL. Passing the gap.
MARY DOUL -- [raising her head.] -- The length of that! Well,
the sun's getting warm this day if it's late autumn itself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [putting out his hands in sun.] -- What way
wouldn't it be warm and it getting high up in the south? You
were that length plaiting your yellow hair you have the morning
lost on us, and the people are after passing to the fair of
Clash.
MARY DOUL. It isn't going to the fair, the time they do be
driving their cattle and they with a litter of pigs maybe
squealing in their carts, they'd give us a thing at all. (She
sits down.) It's well you know that, but you must be talking.
MARTIN DOUL -- [sitting down beside her and beginning to shred
rushes she gives him.] -- If I didn't talk I'd be destroyed in a
short while listening to the clack you do be making, for you've a
queer cracked voice, the Lord have mercy on you, if it's fine to
look on you are itself.
MARY DOUL. Who wouldn't have a cracked voice sitting out all the
year in the rain falling? It's a bad life for the voice, Martin
Doul, though I've heard tell there isn't anything like the wet
south wind does be blowing upon us for keeping a white beautiful
skin -- the like of my skin -- on your neck and on your brows,
and there isn't anything at all like a fine skin for putting
splendour on a woman.
MARTIN DOUL -- [teasingly, but with good humour.] -- I do be
thinking odd times we don't know rightly what way you have your
splendour, or asking myself, maybe, if you have it at all, for
the time I was a young lad, and had fine sight, it was the ones
with sweet voices were the best in face.
MARY DOUL. Let you not be making the like of that talk when
you've heard Timmy the smith, and Mat Simon, and Patch Ruadh, and
a power besides saying fine things of my face, and you know
rightly it was "the beautiful dark woman" they did call me in
Ballinatone.
MARTIN DOUL -- [as before.] -- If it was itself I heard Molly
Byrne saying at the fall of night it was little more than a
fright you were.
MARY DOUL -- [sharply.] -- She was jealous, God forgive her,
because Timmy the smith was after praising my hair.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with mock irony.] -- Jealous!
MARY DOUL. Ay, jealous, Martin Doul; and if she wasn't itself,
the young and silly do be always making game of them that's dark,
and they'd think it a fine thing if they had us deceived, the way
we wouldn't know we were so fine-looking at all.
[She puts her hand to her face with a complacent gesture.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [a little plaintively.] -- I do be thinking in the
long nights it'd be a grand thing if we could see ourselves for
one hour, or a minute itself, the way we'd know surely we were
the finest man and the finest woman of the seven counties of the
east (bitterly) and then the seeing rabble below might be
destroying their souls telling bad lies, and we'd never heed a
thing they'd say.
MARY DOUL. If you weren't a big fool you wouldn't heed them this
hour, Martin Doul, for they're a bad lot those that have their
sight, and they do have great joy, the time they do be seeing a
grand thing, to let on they don't see it at all, and to be
telling fool's lies, the like of what Molly Byrne was telling to
yourself.
MARTIN DOUL. If it's lies she does be telling she's a sweet,
beautiful voice you'd never tire to be hearing, if it was only
the pig she'd be calling, or crying out in the long grass, maybe
after her hens. (Speaking pensively.) It should be a fine,
soft, rounded woman, I'm thinking, would have a voice the like of
that.
MARY DOUL -- [sharply again, scandalized.] -- Let you not be
minding if it's flat or rounded she is; for she's a flighty,
foolish woman, you'll hear when you're off a long way, and she
making a great noise and laughing at the well.
MARTIN DOUL. Isn't laughing a nice thing the time a woman's
young?
MARY DOUL -- [bitterly.] -- A nice thing is it? A nice thing to
hear a woman making a loud braying laugh the like of that? Ah,
she's a great one for drawing the men, and you'll hear Timmy
himself, the time he does be sitting in his forge, getting mighty
fussy if she'll come walking from Grianan, the way you'll hear
his breath going, and he wringing his hands.
MARTIN DOUL -- [slightly piqued.] -- I've heard him say a power
of times it's nothing at all she is when you see her at the side
of you, and yet I never heard any man's breath getting uneasy the
time he'd be looking on yourself.
MARY DOUL. I'm not the like of the girls do be running round on
the roads, swinging their legs, and they with their necks out
looking on the men. . . . Ah, there's a power of villainy
walking the world, Martin Doul, among them that do be gadding
around with their gaping eyes, and their sweet words, and they
with no sense in them at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [sadly.] -- It's the truth, maybe, and yet I'm
told it's a grand thing to see a young girl walking the road.
MARY DOUL. You'd be as bad as the rest of them if you had your
sight, and I did well, surely, not to marry a seeing man it's
scores would have had me and welcome -- for the seeing is a queer
lot, and you'd never know the thing they'd do. [A moment's
pause.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [listening.] -- There's some one coming on the
road.
MARY DOUL. Let you put the pith away out of their sight, or
they'll be picking it out with the spying eyes they have, and
saying it's rich we are, and not sparing us a thing at all.
[They bundle away the rushes. Timmy the smith comes in on left.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [with a begging voice.] -- Leave a bit of silver
for blind Martin, your honour. Leave a bit of silver, or a penny
copper itself, and we'll be praying the Lord to bless you and you
going the way.
TIMMY -- [stopping before them.] -- And you letting on a while
back you knew my step! [He sits down.]
MARTIN -- [with his natural voice.] -- I know it when Molly
Byrne's walking in front, or when she's two perches, maybe,
lagging behind; but it's few times I've heard you walking up the
like of that, as if you'd met a thing wasn't right and you coming
on the road.
TIMMY -- [hot and breathless, wiping his face.] -- You've good
ears, God bless you, if you're a liar itself; for I'm after
walking up in great haste from hearing wonders in the fair.
MARTIN DOUL -- [rather contemptuously.] -- You're always hearing
queer wonderful things, and the lot of them nothing at all; but
I'm thinking, this time, it's a strange thing surely you'd be
walking up before the turn of day, and not waiting below to look
on them lepping, or dancing, or playing shows on the green of
Clash.
TIMMY -- [huffed.] -- I was coming to tell you it's in this place
there'd be a bigger wonder done in a short while (Martin Doul
stops working) than was ever done on the green of Clash, or the
width of Leinster itself; but you're thinking, maybe, you're too
cute a little fellow to be minding me at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [amused, but incredulous.] -- There'll be wonders
in this place, is it?
TIMMY. Here at the crossing of the roads.
MARTIN DOUL. I never heard tell of anything to happen in this
place since the night they killed the old fellow going home with
his gold, the Lord have mercy on him, and threw down his corpse
into the bog. Let them not be doing the like of that this night,
for it's ourselves have a right to the crossing roads, and we
don't want any of your bad tricks, or your wonders either, for
it's wonder enough we are ourselves.
TIMMY. If I'd a mind I'd be telling you of a real wonder this
day, and the way you'll be having a great joy, maybe, you're not
thinking on at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [interested.] -- Are they putting up a still
behind in the rocks? It'd be a grand thing if I'd sup handy the
way I wouldn't be destroying myself groping up across the bogs in
the rain falling.
TIMMY -- [still moodily.] -- It's not a still they're bringing,
or the like of it either.
MARY DOUL -- [persuasively, to Timmy.] -- Maybe they're hanging a
thief, above at the bit of a tree. I'm told it's a great sight
to see a man hanging by his neck; but what joy would that be to
ourselves, and we not seeing it at all?
TIMMY -- [more pleasantly.] -- They're hanging no one this day,
Mary Doul, and yet, with the help of God, you'll see a power
hanged before you die.
MARY DOUL. Well you've queer hum-bugging talk. . . . What way
would I see a power hanged, and I a dark woman since the seventh
year of my age?
TIMMY. Did ever you hear tell of a place across a bit of the
sea, where there is an island, and the grave of the four
beautiful saints?
MARY DOUL. I've heard people have walked round from the west and
they speaking of that.
TIMMY -- [impressively.] -- There's a green ferny well, I'm told,
behind of that place, and if you put a drop of the water out of
it on the eyes of a blind man, you'll make him see as well as any
person is walking the world.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with excitement.] -- Is that the truth, Timmy?
I'm thinking you're telling a lie.
TIMMY -- [gruffly.] -- That's the truth, Martin Doul, and you may
believe it now, for you're after believing a power of things
weren't as likely at all.
MARY DOUL. Maybe we could send us a young lad to bring us the
by J. M. Synge
A Comedy in Three Acts
SCENE
Some lonelymountainous district in the east of Ireland one or
more centuries ago.
THE WELL OF THE SAINTS was first produced in the Abbey Theatre in
February, 1905, by the Irish National Theatre Society, under the
direction of W. G. Fay, and with the following cast.
Martin Doul W. G. FAY
Mary Doul EMMA VERNON
Timmy GEORGE ROBERTS
Molly Byrne SARA ALLGOOD
Bride MAIRE NIC SHIUBHLAIGH
Mat Simon P. MAC SHIUBHLAIGH
The Saint F. J. FAY
OTHER GIRLS AND MEN
MARTIN DOUL, weather-beaten, blind beggar
MARY DOUL, his Wife, weather-beaten, ugly woman, blind also,
nearly fifty
TIMMY, a middle-aged, almost elderly, but vigorous smith
MOLLY BYRNE, fine-looking girl with fair hair
BRIDE, another handsome girl
MAT SIMON
THE SAINT, a wandering Friar
OTHER GIRLS AND MEN
THE WELL OF THE SAINTS
ACT I
[Roadside with big stones, etc., on the right; low loose wall at
back with gap near centre; at left, ruined doorway of church with
bushes beside it. Martin Doul and Mary Doul grope in on left and
pass over to stones on right, where they sit.]
MARY DOUL. What place are we now, Martin Doul?
MARTIN DOUL. Passing the gap.
MARY DOUL -- [raising her head.] -- The length of that! Well,
the sun's getting warm this day if it's late autumn itself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [putting out his hands in sun.] -- What way
wouldn't it be warm and it getting high up in the south? You
were that length plaiting your yellow hair you have the morning
lost on us, and the people are after passing to the fair of
Clash.
MARY DOUL. It isn't going to the fair, the time they do be
driving their cattle and they with a litter of pigs maybe
squealing in their carts, they'd give us a thing at all. (She
sits down.) It's well you know that, but you must be talking.
MARTIN DOUL -- [sitting down beside her and beginning to shred
rushes she gives him.] -- If I didn't talk I'd be destroyed in a
short while listening to the clack you do be making, for you've a
queer cracked voice, the Lord have mercy on you, if it's fine to
look on you are itself.
MARY DOUL. Who wouldn't have a cracked voice sitting out all the
year in the rain falling? It's a bad life for the voice, Martin
Doul, though I've heard tell there isn't anything like the wet
south wind does be blowing upon us for keeping a white beautiful
skin -- the like of my skin -- on your neck and on your brows,
and there isn't anything at all like a fine skin for putting
splendour on a woman.
MARTIN DOUL -- [teasingly, but with good humour.] -- I do be
thinking odd times we don't know rightly what way you have your
splendour, or asking myself, maybe, if you have it at all, for
the time I was a young lad, and had fine sight, it was the ones
with sweet voices were the best in face.
MARY DOUL. Let you not be making the like of that talk when
you've heard Timmy the smith, and Mat Simon, and Patch Ruadh, and
a power besides saying fine things of my face, and you know
rightly it was "the beautiful dark woman" they did call me in
Ballinatone.
MARTIN DOUL -- [as before.] -- If it was itself I heard Molly
Byrne saying at the fall of night it was little more than a
fright you were.
MARY DOUL -- [sharply.] -- She was jealous, God forgive her,
because Timmy the smith was after praising my hair.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with mock irony.] -- Jealous!
MARY DOUL. Ay, jealous, Martin Doul; and if she wasn't itself,
the young and silly do be always making game of them that's dark,
and they'd think it a fine thing if they had us deceived, the way
we wouldn't know we were so fine-looking at all.
[She puts her hand to her face with a complacent gesture.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [a little plaintively.] -- I do be thinking in the
long nights it'd be a grand thing if we could see ourselves for
one hour, or a minute itself, the way we'd know surely we were
the finest man and the finest woman of the seven counties of the
east (bitterly) and then the seeing rabble below might be
destroying their souls telling bad lies, and we'd never heed a
thing they'd say.
MARY DOUL. If you weren't a big fool you wouldn't heed them this
hour, Martin Doul, for they're a bad lot those that have their
sight, and they do have great joy, the time they do be seeing a
grand thing, to let on they don't see it at all, and to be
telling fool's lies, the like of what Molly Byrne was telling to
yourself.
MARTIN DOUL. If it's lies she does be telling she's a sweet,
beautiful voice you'd never tire to be hearing, if it was only
the pig she'd be calling, or crying out in the long grass, maybe
after her hens. (Speaking pensively.) It should be a fine,
soft, rounded woman, I'm thinking, would have a voice the like of
that.
MARY DOUL -- [sharply again, scandalized.] -- Let you not be
minding if it's flat or rounded she is; for she's a flighty,
foolish woman, you'll hear when you're off a long way, and she
making a great noise and laughing at the well.
MARTIN DOUL. Isn't laughing a nice thing the time a woman's
young?
MARY DOUL -- [bitterly.] -- A nice thing is it? A nice thing to
hear a woman making a loud braying laugh the like of that? Ah,
she's a great one for drawing the men, and you'll hear Timmy
himself, the time he does be sitting in his forge, getting mighty
fussy if she'll come walking from Grianan, the way you'll hear
his breath going, and he wringing his hands.
MARTIN DOUL -- [slightly piqued.] -- I've heard him say a power
of times it's nothing at all she is when you see her at the side
of you, and yet I never heard any man's breath getting uneasy the
time he'd be looking on yourself.
MARY DOUL. I'm not the like of the girls do be running round on
the roads, swinging their legs, and they with their necks out
looking on the men. . . . Ah, there's a power of villainy
walking the world, Martin Doul, among them that do be gadding
around with their gaping eyes, and their sweet words, and they
with no sense in them at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [sadly.] -- It's the truth, maybe, and yet I'm
told it's a grand thing to see a young girl walking the road.
MARY DOUL. You'd be as bad as the rest of them if you had your
sight, and I did well, surely, not to marry a seeing man it's
scores would have had me and welcome -- for the seeing is a queer
lot, and you'd never know the thing they'd do. [A moment's
pause.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [listening.] -- There's some one coming on the
road.
MARY DOUL. Let you put the pith away out of their sight, or
they'll be picking it out with the spying eyes they have, and
saying it's rich we are, and not sparing us a thing at all.
[They bundle away the rushes. Timmy the smith comes in on left.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [with a begging voice.] -- Leave a bit of silver
for blind Martin, your honour. Leave a bit of silver, or a penny
copper itself, and we'll be praying the Lord to bless you and you
going the way.
TIMMY -- [stopping before them.] -- And you letting on a while
back you knew my step! [He sits down.]
MARTIN -- [with his natural voice.] -- I know it when Molly
Byrne's walking in front, or when she's two perches, maybe,
lagging behind; but it's few times I've heard you walking up the
like of that, as if you'd met a thing wasn't right and you coming
on the road.
TIMMY -- [hot and breathless, wiping his face.] -- You've good
ears, God bless you, if you're a liar itself; for I'm after
walking up in great haste from hearing wonders in the fair.
MARTIN DOUL -- [rather contemptuously.] -- You're always hearing
queer wonderful things, and the lot of them nothing at all; but
I'm thinking, this time, it's a strange thing surely you'd be
walking up before the turn of day, and not waiting below to look
on them lepping, or dancing, or playing shows on the green of
Clash.
TIMMY -- [huffed.] -- I was coming to tell you it's in this place
there'd be a bigger wonder done in a short while (Martin Doul
stops working) than was ever done on the green of Clash, or the
width of Leinster itself; but you're thinking, maybe, you're too
cute a little fellow to be minding me at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [amused, but incredulous.] -- There'll be wonders
in this place, is it?
TIMMY. Here at the crossing of the roads.
MARTIN DOUL. I never heard tell of anything to happen in this
place since the night they killed the old fellow going home with
his gold, the Lord have mercy on him, and threw down his corpse
into the bog. Let them not be doing the like of that this night,
for it's ourselves have a right to the crossing roads, and we
don't want any of your bad tricks, or your wonders either, for
it's wonder enough we are ourselves.
TIMMY. If I'd a mind I'd be telling you of a real wonder this
day, and the way you'll be having a great joy, maybe, you're not
thinking on at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [interested.] -- Are they putting up a still
behind in the rocks? It'd be a grand thing if I'd sup handy the
way I wouldn't be destroying myself groping up across the bogs in
the rain falling.
TIMMY -- [still moodily.] -- It's not a still they're bringing,
or the like of it either.
MARY DOUL -- [persuasively, to Timmy.] -- Maybe they're hanging a
thief, above at the bit of a tree. I'm told it's a great sight
to see a man hanging by his neck; but what joy would that be to
ourselves, and we not seeing it at all?
TIMMY -- [more pleasantly.] -- They're hanging no one this day,
Mary Doul, and yet, with the help of God, you'll see a power
hanged before you die.
MARY DOUL. Well you've queer hum-bugging talk. . . . What way
would I see a power hanged, and I a dark woman since the seventh
year of my age?
TIMMY. Did ever you hear tell of a place across a bit of the
sea, where there is an island, and the grave of the four
beautiful saints?
MARY DOUL. I've heard people have walked round from the west and
they speaking of that.
TIMMY -- [impressively.] -- There's a green ferny well, I'm told,
behind of that place, and if you put a drop of the water out of
it on the eyes of a blind man, you'll make him see as well as any
person is walking the world.
MARTIN DOUL -- [with excitement.] -- Is that the truth, Timmy?
I'm thinking you're telling a lie.
TIMMY -- [gruffly.] -- That's the truth, Martin Doul, and you may
believe it now, for you're after believing a power of things
weren't as likely at all.
MARY DOUL. Maybe we could send us a young lad to bring us the
- lonely [´ləunli]
a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词) - doorway [´dɔ:wei] n.门口 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- jealous [´dʒeləs] a.妒忌的 (初中英语单词)
- forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- welcome [´welkəm] a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词)
- bundle [´bʌndl] n.包，捆；包袱(裹) (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- comedy [´kɔmidi] n.喜剧；喜剧场面 (高中英语单词)
- ireland [´aiələnd] n.爱尔兰 (高中英语单词)
- vigorous [´vigərəs] a.精力旺盛的；健壮的 (高中英语单词)
- litter [´litə] n.杂乱 v.乱丢 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
- uneasy [ʌn´i:zi] a.不安的；不自在的 (高中英语单词)
- breathless [´breθlis] a.屏息的 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- mountainous [´mauntinəs] a.山多的；巨大的 (英语四级单词)
- elderly [´eldəli] a. 较老的，年长的 (英语四级单词)
- rightly [´raitli] ad.正义地；正确地 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- middle-aged [´midl´eidʒid] a.中年的 (英语六级单词)
- cracked [krækt] a.有裂缝的；碎的；粗哑 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
