Riders To The Sea

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‫הספריה הלאומית‬
28 C 7711
Synge , John Millington ,
The tinker's wedding ; Riders to the
3191118.10
1
THE TINKER'S WEDDING
AND OTHER PLAYS
RIDERS TO THE SEA AND
THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN
BY JOHN м. SYNGE
MAUNSEL AND COMPANY LTD.

DUBLIN AND LONDON
2 8 1 7 7 1 1
Reprinted ( Pocket Edition) September 1911

" ‫دو‬ November 1911
" 1912
33 "
1915
Copyright. 1904. J. M. Synge

Allrights reserved
‫בית הספרים הלאמי‬

‫והאוניברסיטאי‬
‫ירושלים‬
822.91
SYN (TI)
CONTENTS

ACT I I
p.
ACT II 26
RIDERS TO THE SEA

53
THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN 81
a2
‫בית הספרים הל‬

‫והאוניבר"ט‬
‫סיטאי‬
‫של‬
‫לים‬ ‫ירוש‬
PREFACE
THE drama is made serious in the French

sense of the word-not by the degree in which
it is taken up with problems that are serious in
themselves, but by the degree in which it gives
the nourishment, not very easy to define, on
which our imaginations live. We should not
go to the theatre as we go to a chemist's, or a
dram-shop, but as we go to a dinner where the
food we need is taken with pleasure and excite-
ment. This was nearly always so in Spain and
England and France when the drama was at its
richest-the infancy and decay of the drama
tend to be didactic-but in these days the play-
house is too often stocked with the drugs of
many seedy problems, or with the absinthe or
vermouth of the last musical comedy.
The drama, like the symphony, does not
teach or prove anything. Analysts with their
problems, and teachers with their systems, are
soon as old-fashioned as the pharmacopoeia of
Galen-look at Ibsen and the Germans-but
ix
PREFACE
the best plays of Ben Jonson and Molière can

no more go out of fashion than the blackberries
on the hedges.
Of the things which nourish the imagination
humour is one of the most needful, and it is
dangerous to limit or destroy it. Baudelaire
calls laughter the greatest sign of the Satanic
element in man ; and where a country loses its
humour, as some towns in Ireland are doing,
there will be morbidity of mind, as Baudelaire's
mind was morbid.
In the greater part of Ireland, however, the
whole people, from the tinkers to the clergy,
have still a life, and view of life, that are rich
and genial and humorous. I do not think that
these country people, who have so much humour
themselves, will mind being laughed at without
malice, as the people in every country have
been laughed at in their own comedies.
J. M. S.
December 2nd, 1907.
NOTE. The Tinker's Wedding ' was first written a few
years ago, about the time I was working at ' Riders to the
Sea ' and ' The Shadow of the Glen.' I have rewritten it
since.
J.M. S.
X
PERSONS IN THE PLAY
MICHAEL BYRNE, a tinker

MARY BYRNE, an old woman, his mother
SARAH CASEY, a young tinker woman
A PRIEST
SCENE-A village road-side after nightfall.

ACT I
A village roadside after nightfall. A fire of

sticks is burning near the ditch a little to the right.
Michael is working beside it. In the background,
on the left, a sort of tent and ragged clothes drying
on thehedge. On the right a chapel-gate.
SARAH CASEY, coming in on right, eagerly.
We'll see his reverence this place, Michael
Byrne, and he passing backward to his house
to-night.
MICHAEL, grimly.
That'll be a sacred and a sainted joy !
SARAH, sharply.
It'll be small joy for yourself if you aren't ready
with my wedding ring. (She goes over to him.)
Is it near done this time, or what way is it
atall ?
B
The Tinker's Wedding : Act i
MICHAEL.
Apoor way only, Sarah Casey, for it's the divil's

job making a ring, and you'll be having my
hands destroyed in a short while the way I'll
not be able to make a tin can at all maybe at
the dawn of day.
SARAH, sitting down beside him and throwing

sticks on thefire.
If it's the divil's job, let you mind it, and leave
your speeches that would choke a fool.
MICHAEL, slowly and glumly.

And it's you'll go talking of fools, Sarah Casey,
when no man did ever hear a lying story even
ofyour like unto this mortal day. You to be
going beside me a great while, and rearing a lot
of them, and then to be setting offwith your
talk of getting married, and your driving me to
it, and I not asking it at all.
Sarah turns her back to him and arranges
something in the ditch.
MICHAEL, angrily.
Can't you speak a word when I'm asking what
is it ails you since the moon did change ?
2
SARAH, musingly.
I'm thinking there isn't anything ails me,
Michael Byrne ; but the spring-time is a queer
time, and it's queer thoughts maybe I do think
at whiles.
MICHAEL .
It's hard set you'd be to think queerer than

welcome, Sarah Casey ; but what will you gain
dragging me to the priest this night, I'm saying,
when it's new thoughts you'll be thinking at the
dawn of day ?
SARAH, teasingly.
It's at the dawn ofday I do be thinking I'd have
a right to be going off to the rich tinkers do be
travelling from Tibradden to the Tara Hill ; for
it'd be a fine life to be driving with young
Jaunting Jim, where there wouldn't be any big
hills to break the back of you, with walking up
and walking down.
MICHAEL, with dismay.

It's the like of that you do be thinking !
SARAH.
The like of that, Michael Byrne, when there is

3
a bit of sun in it, and a kind air, and a great
smell coming from the thorn trees is above your
head.
MICHAEL, looks at her for a moment with

horror, and then hands her the ring.
Will that fit you now ?
SARAH, trying it on.
It's making it tight you are, and the edges sharp
on the tin.
MICHAEL, looking at it carefully.

It's the fat of your own finger, Sarah Casey ;
and isn't it a mad thing I'm saying again that
you'd be asking marriage of me, or making a
talk of going away from me, and you thriving
and gettingyour good health by the grace of the
Almighty God ?
SARAH, giving it back to him.
Fixit now, and it'll do, if you're wary you don't
squeeze it again.
MICHAEL, moodily, working again.

It's easy saying be wary ; there's many things
easy said, Sarah Casey,you'd wonder a fool even
4
would be saying at all. (He starts violently.) The
divil mend you, I'm scalded again !
SARAH, scornfully.
If you are, it's a clumsy man you are this night,
Michael Byrne (raising her voice) ; and let you
make haste now, or herself will be coming with
the porter.
MICHAEL, defiantly, raising his voice.

Let me make haste ? I'll be making haste
maybe to hit you agreat clout ; for I'm thinking
it's the like of that you want. I'm thinking on
the day I got you above at Rathvanna, and the
wayyou began crying out and we coming down
off the hill, crying out and saying " I'll go back
to my ma" ; and I'm thinking on the way I
came behind you that time, and hit you a great
clout in the lug, and how quiet and easy it was
you came along with me from that hour to this
present day.
SARAH, standing up and throwing all her sticks
into thefire.
And a big fool I was, too, maybe ; but we'll be
seeing Jaunting Jim to-morrow in Ballinaclash,
and he after getting a great price for his white
foal in the horse-fair of Wicklow, the way it'll
5
be a great sight to see him squandering his share
ofgold, and he with a grand eye for a fine horse,
and a grand eye for a woman.
MICHAEL, working again with impatience.
The divildo him good with the two of them.
SARAH, kicking up the ashes with herfoot.

Ah, he's a great lad, I'm telling you, and it's
proud and happy I'll be to see him, and he the
first one called me the Beauty of Ballinacree, a
fine name for a woman.
MICHAEL, with contempt.

It's the like of that name they do be putting on
the horses they have below racing in Arklow.
It's easy pleased you are, Sarah Casey, easy
pleased with a big word, or the liar speaks it.
SARAH .
Liar!
MICHAEL,
Liar, surely.
SARAH, indignantly.
Liar, is it ? Didn't you ever hear tell of the
peelers followed me ten miles along the Glen
6
Malure, and they talking love to me in the dark
night ; or of the children you'll meet coming
from school and they saying one to the other:
" It's this day we seen Sarah Casey, the Beauty
of Ballinacree, a great sight, surely."
MICHAEL .
God help the lot of them.

SARAH.
It's yourself you'll be calling God to help, in

two weeks or three, when you'll be waking up
in the dark night and thinking you see me
coming with the sun on me, and I driving a
high cart with Jaunting Jim going behind. It's
lonesome and cold you'll be feeling the ditch
where you'll be lying down that night, I'm telling
you, and you hearing the old woman making a
great noise in her sleep, and the bats squeaking
in the trees.
MICHAEL .
Whisht. I hear some one coming the road.

SARAH, looking out right.
It's some one coming forward from the doctor's
door.
7
MICHAEL .
It's often his reverence does be in there playing

cards, or drinking a sup, or singing songs, until
the dawn of day.
SARAH.
It's a big boast of a man with a long step on him

and a trumpeting voice. It's his reverence,
surely; and if you have the ring done, it's a
great bargain we'll make now and he after
drinking his glass.
MICHAEL, going to her and giving her the ring.

There's your ring, Sarah Casey ; but I'm think-
ing he'll walk by and not stop to speak with the
like of us at all.
SARAH, tidying herself, in great excitement.

Let you be sitting here and keeping a great
blaze, the way he can look on my face ; and let
you seem to be working, for it's great love the
like of him have to talk of work.
MICHAEL, moodily, sitting down and beginning

to work at a tin can.
Great love, surely.

8
SARAH, eagerly.
Make a great blaze now, Michael Byrne.
The Priest comes in on right ; she comes
forward in front of him.
SARAH, in a very plausible voice.

Good evening, your reverence. It's a grand fine
night, by the grace ofGod.
PRIEST.
The Lord have mercy on us ! What kind of a

living woman is it that you are at all ?
SARAH.
It's Sarah Casey I am, your reverence, the

Beauty of Ballinacree, and it's Michael Byrne
is below in the ditch .
PRIEST .
A holy pair, surely ! Let you get out of my

way. (He tries to pass by.)
SARAH, keeping infront of him.

We are wanting a little word with your
reverence.
9
PRIEST .
I haven't a halfpenny at all. Leave the road,

I'm saying.
SARAH.
It isn't a halfpenny we're asking, holy father ;

but we were thinking maybe we'd have a right
to be getting married ; and we were thinking
it's yourself would marry us for not a halfpenny
at all ; for you're a kind man, your reverence,
akind man with the poor.
PRIEST, with astonishment.

Is it marry you for nothing at all ?
SARAH .
It is, your reverence ; and we were thinking

maybe you'd give us a little small bit of silver
to pay for the ring.
PRIEST, loudly.
Let you hold your tongue ; let you be quiet,
Sarah Casey. I've no silver at all for the like of
you ; and if you want to be married, let you
pay your pound. I'd do it for a pound only,
and that's making it a sight cheaper than I'd
ΙΟ
make it for one of my own pairs is living here
in the place.
SARAH,
Where would the like of us get a pound, your

reverence ?
PRIEST .
Wouldn't you easy get it with your selling

asses, and making cans, and your stealing east
and west in Wicklow and Wexford and the
County Meath ? (He tries to pass her.) Let you
leave the road, and not be plaguing me more.
SARAH, pleadingly, taking money from her

pocket.
Wouldn't you have a little mercy on us, yout
reverence ? (Holding out money.) Wouldn't you
marry us for a half a sovereign, and it a nice
shiny one with a view on it of the living king's
mamma ?
PRIEST .
If it's ten shillings you have, let you get ten

more the same way, and I'll marry you then.
SARAH, whining.
It's two years we are getting that bit, your
II
reverence, with our pence, and our halfpence,
and an odd threepenny bit ; and if you don't
marry us now, himself and the old woman,
who has a great drouth, will be drinking it
to-morrow in the fair (she puts her apron to her
eyes, half sobbing), and then I won't be married
any time, and I'll be saying till I'm an old
woman : " It's a cruel and a wicked thing to be
bred poor."
PRIEST, turning up towards thefire.
Let you not be crying, Sarah Casey. It's a
queer woman you are to be crying at the like
of that, and you your whole life walking the
roads.
SARAH, sobbing.
It's two years we are getting the gold, your
reverence, and now you won't marry us for
that bit, and we hard-working poor people do
be making cans in the dark night, and blinding
our eyes with the black smoke from the bits of
twigs we do be burning.
An old woman is heard singing tipsily on the
left.
PRIEST, looking at the can Michael is making.
When will you have that can done, Michael
Byrne?
12
MICHAEL .
In a short space only, your reverence, for I'm

putting the last dab of solder on the rim.
PRIEST .
Let you get a crown along with the ten shillings

and the gallon can, Sarah Casey, and I will
wed you so.
MARY, suddenly shouting behind, tipsily.
Larry was a fine lad, I'm saying ; Larry was a
fine lad, Sarah Casey-
MICHAEL.
Whisht, now, the two of you. There's my

mother coming, and she'd have us destroyed if
she heard the like of that talk the time she's
been drinking her fill.
MARY, comes in singing.
And when he asked him what way he'd die,
And he hanging unrepented,
' Begob,' says Larry, ' that's all in my eye,
By the clergy first invented.'
SARAH .
Give me the jug now, or you'll have it spilt in

the ditch.
13
MARY, holding the jug with both her hands,
in a stilted voice.
Let you leave me easy, Sarah Casey. I won't

spill it, I'm saying. God help you ; are you
thinking it's frothing full to the brim it is at this
hour of the night, and I after carrying it in my
two hands a long step from Jemmy Neill's ?
MICHAEL, anxiously.
Is there a sup left at all.
SARAH, looking into thejug.

A little small sup only, I'm thinking.
MARY, sees the priest, and holds out jug
towards him.
God save your reverence. I'm after bringing

down a smart drop ; and let you drink it up
now, for it's a middling drouthy man you are
at all times, God forgive you, and this night is
cruel dry.
She tries to go towards him. Sarah holds
her back.
PRIEST, waving her away.

Let you not be falling to the flames. Keep off,
I'm saying.
14
MARY, persuasively.
Let you not be shy of us, your reverence.
Aren't we all sinners, God help us ! Drink a
sup now, I'm telling you ; and we won't let on
a word about it till the Judgment Day.
She takes up a tin mug, pours some porter into
it, and gives it to him.
MARY, singing, andholding thejug in her hand.
A lonesome ditch in Ballygan
The day you're beating a tenpenny can ;
A lonesome bank in Ballyduff
The time
She breaks off.

It's a bad, wicked song, Sarah Casey ; and let
you put me down now in the ditch, and I
won't sing it till himself will be gone ; for it's
bad enough he is, I'm thinking, without ourselves
making him worse.
SARAH, putting her down, to the priest, half

laughing.
Don't mind her at all, your reverence. She's
no shame the time she's a drop taken ; and if it
was the Holy Father from Rome was in it,
she'd give him a little sup out of her mug, and
say the same as she'd say to yourself.
15
MARY, to the priest.
Let you drink it up, holy father. Let you
drink it up, I'm saying, and not be letting on
you wouldn't do the like of it, and you with a
stack ofpint bottles above reaching the sky.
PRIEST, with resignation.

Well, here's to your good health, and God for-
give us all. (He drinks.)
MARY.
That's right now, your reverence, and the bless-

ing of God be on you. Isn't it a grand thing to
see you sitting down, with no pride in you, and
drinking a sup with the like of us, and we the
poorest, wretched, starving creatures you'd see
any place on the earth ?
PRIEST.
If it's starving you are itself, I'm thinking it's

well for the like of you that do be drinking
when there's drouth on you, and lying down to
sleep when your legs are stiff. (He sighsgloomily.)
What would you do ifit was the like of myself
you were, saying Mass with your mouth dry,
and running east and west for a sick call maybe,
16
and hearing the rural people again and they
saying their sins ?
MARY, with compassion.
It's destroyed 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
sighing 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 ofday.
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

C
17
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 one now, your rever-
ence ; for I've heard a power ofqueer things and
Iwalking the world, but there's one thing I never
heard any time, and that's a real priest saying 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, scandalised.
Stop your talking, 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
thejug.
18
PRIEST, breaking away.
Leave me go, Mary Byrne ; for I 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.

ThePriest goes towards the left, and Sarah
follows him.
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 ofthe Almighty God.
SARAH, to the priest.
Do you hear her now, your reverence ? Isn't it
19
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 passing, and bring the bit ofgold 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, wicked heathen the like of her.
SARAH,following him out.

The blessing 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 marriage, and she making whisper-
talk with one man or another man along by the
road.
MICHAEL .
Whisht now, or she'll knock the head of you

the time she comes back.
20
The Tinker's Wedding: Act i
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
21
the trees ; so let you sit down there by the big
bough, and I'll be telling you the finest story
you'd hear any place from Dundalk to Ballina-
cree, 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, ying back steepily.

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 spring-time
ofthe year.
SARAH, taking the can from Michael, and
tying it up in a piece ofsacking.
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.
22
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.
He goes towards the 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

23
The Tinker's Wedding: Act i
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 yourselt.
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 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 canfrom
the sacking, and fits in three empty bottles and
24
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 sitting lonesome on a fine
night, hearing the dogs barking, and the bats
squeaking, and you saying over, it's a short while
only till you die.
She goes out singing ' The night before Larry
was stretched.'
CURTAIN.
25
ACT II
The same scene as before. Early morning. Sarah

is washing her face in an old bucket; then plaits
herhair. Michael is tidying himself also. Mary
Byrne is asleep against the ditch.
SARAH, to Michael, with pleased excitement.
Go over, now, to the bundle beyond, and you'll
find a kind of a red handkerchief to put upon
your neck, and the green one for myself.
MICHAEL, getting them.

You're after spending more money on the like
of them. Well, it's a power we're losing this
time, and we not gaining a thing at all. (With
the handkerchiefs.) Is it them two ?
SARAH .
It is, Michael. (She takes one ofthem.) Let you

tackle that one round under your chin ; and let
you not forget to take your hat from your head
when we go up into the church. I askedBiddy
Flynn below, that's after marrying her second
26
The Tinker's Wedding : Act ii
man, and she told me it's the like of that
they do.
Mary yawns, and turns over in her sleep.
SARAH, with anxiety.

There she is waking up on us, and I thinking
we'd have the job done before she'd know of it
atall.
MICHAEL .
She'll be crying out now, and making game of

us, and saying it's fools we are surely.
SARAH,
I'll send her to her sleep again, or get her out of

it one way or another ; for it'd be a bad case to
have a divil's scholar the like of her turning the
priest against us maybe with her godless talk.
MARY, waking up, and looking at them with

curiosity, blandly.
That's fine things you have on you, SarahCasey;
and it's a great stir you're making this day,
washing your face. I'm that used to the ham-
mer, I wouldn't hear it at all ; but washing is a
27
rare thing, and you're after waking me up, and
Ihaving a great sleep in the sun.
She looks around cautiously at the bundle in
which she has hidden the bottles.
SARAH, coaxingly.
Let you stretch out again for a sleep, Mary
Byrne ; for it'll be a middling time yet before
we go to the fair.
MARY, with suspicion.

That's a sweet tongue you have, Sarah Casey ;
but if sleep's a grand thing, it's a grand thing to
be waking up a day the like of this, when there's
awarm sun in it, and a kind air, and you'll hear
the cuckoos singing and crying out on the top
ofthe hills.
SARAH .
If it's that gay you are, you'd have a right to

walk down and see would you get a few half-
pence from the rich men do be driving early to
the fair.
MARY ,
When rich men do be driving early it's queer

tempers they have, the Lord forgive them ; the
28
way it's little but bad words and swearing out
you'd get from them all.
SARAH, losing her temper and breaking out
fiercely.
Then if you'll neither beg nor sleep, let you
walk off from this place where you're not
wanted, and not have us waiting for you maybe
at the turn of day.
MARY, rather uneasy, turning to Michael.
Godhelp our spirits, Michael ; there she is again
rousing cranky from the break of dawn. Oh !
isn't she a terror since the moon did change ?
(she gets up slowly) and I'd best be going forward
to sell the gallon can.
She goes over and takes up the bundle.
SARAH, crying out angrily.
Leave that down, Mary Byrne. Oh ! aren't
you the scorn ofwomen to think that you'd have
that drouth and roguery on you that you'd go
drinking the can and the dew not dried from the
grass ?
MARY, in a feigned tone ofpacification, with
the bundle still in her hand.
It's not a drouth but a heartburn I have this day,

29
Sarah Casey, so I'm going down to cool my
gullet at the blessed well ; and I'll sell the can
to the parson's daughter below, a harmless poor
creature would fill your hand with shillings for
a brace of lies.
SARAH.
Leave down the tin can, Mary Byrne, for I

hear the drouth upon your tongue to-day.
MARY .
There's not a drink-house from this place to the

fair, Sarah Casey; the way you'll find me below
with the full price, and not a farthing gone.
She turns to go offleft.
SARAH,jumping up, andpicking up thehammer

threateningly.
Put down that can, I'm saying.
MARY, looking at herfor a moment in terror,

and putting down the bundle in the ditch.
Is it raving mad you're going, Sarah Casey,
and you the pride of women to destroy the
world ?
30
SARAH, going up to her, and givingher a push
off left.
I'll show you if it's raving mad I am . Go on
from this place, I'm saying, and be wary now.
MARY, turning back after her.
If I go, I'll be telling old and young you're a
weathered heathen savage, Sarah Casey, the one
did put down a head of the parson's cabbage to
boil in the pot with your clothes (the priest comes
inbehindher, on the left, and listens), and quenched
the flaming candles on the throne of God the
time your shadow fell within the pillars of the
chapel door.
Sarah turns on her, and she springs round nearly
into the priest's arms. When she sees him, she
claps her shawl over her mouth, and goes up
towards the ditch, laughing to herself.
PRIEST, going to Sarah, half terrified at the
language that he has heard.
Well, aren't you a fearful lot ? I'm thinking
it's only humbug you were making at the fall of
night, and you won't need me at all.
SARAH, with anger still in her voice.
Humbug is it ! Would you be turning back
upon your spoken promise in the face ofGod ?
31
PRIEST, dubiously.
I'm thinking you were never christened, Sarah
Casey ; and itwould be a queer job to go dealing
Christian sacraments unto the like of you.
(Persuasively, feeling in his pocket.) So it would
be best, maybe, I'd give you a shilling for to
drink my health, and let you walk on, and not
trouble me at all.
SARAH.
That's your talking, is it? If you don't stand

to your spoken word, holy father, I'll make my
own complaint to the mitred bishop in the face
ofall.
PRIEST.
You'd do that !
SARAH ,
I would surely, holy father, if I walked to the

city of Dublin with blood and blisters on my
naked feet.
PRIEST, uneasily scratching his ear.

I wish this day was done, Sarah Casey ; for I'm
thinking it's a risky thing getting mixed in
any matters with the like ofyou.
32
SARAH .
Be hasty then, and you'll have us done with

before you'd think at all.
PRIEST, giving in.

Well, maybe it's right you are, and let you
come up to the chapel when you see me look-
ing from the door. (He goes up into the chapel.)
SARAH, calling after him.

We will, and God preserve you, holy father.
MARY, coming down to them, speaking with
amazement and consternation, but without anger.
Going to the chapel ! It's at marriage you're
fooling again, maybe ? (Sarah turns her back on
her.) It was for that you were washing your
face, and you after sending me for porter at the
fall of night the way I'd drink a good half from
the jug ? (Going round infront of Sarah.) Is it
at marriage you're fooling again ?
SARAH, triumphantly.
It is, Mary Byrne. I'll be married now in a
short while ; and from this day there will no
one have a right to call me a dirty name and I
D
33
selling cans in Wicklow or Wexford or the city
of Dublin itself.
MARY, turning to Michael.

And it's yourself is wedding her, Michael Byrne ?
MICHAEL, gloomily.
It is, God spare us.
MARY, looks at Sarah for a moment, and then

bursts out into a laugh ofderision.
Well, she's a tight, hardy girl, and it's no lie ;
but I never knew till this day it was a black
born fool I had for a son. You'll breed asses,
I've heard them say, and poaching dogs, and
horses'd go licking the wind, but it's a hard
thing, God help me, to breed sense in a son.
MICHAEL, gloomily.
If I didn't marry her, she'd be walking off to
Jaunting Jim maybe at the fall of night ; and
it's well yourself knows there isn't the like of
her for getting money and selling songs to the
men.
MARY.
And you're thinking it's paying gold to his

34
reverence would make a woman stop when she's
a mind to go ?
SARAH, angrily.
Let you not be destroying us with your talk
when I've as good a right to a decent marriage
as any speckled female does be sleeping in the
black hovels above, would choke a mule.
MARY, soothingly.
It's as good a right you have, surely, Sarah
Casey, but what good will it do ? Is it putting
that ring on your finger will keep you from
getting an aged woman and losing the fine face
you have, or be easing your pains, when it's the
grand ladies do be married in silk dresses, with
rings of gold, that do pass any woman with
their share of torment in the hour of birth, and
do be paying the doctors in the city of Dublin a
great price at that time, the like of what you'd
pay for a good ass and a cart ? (She sits down.)
SARAH, puzzled.
Is that the truth ?
MARY, pleased with the point she has made.

Wouldn't any know it's the truth ? Ah, it's
few short years you are yet in the world, Sarah
35
Casey, and it's little or nothing at all maybe
you know about it.
SARAH, vehement but uneasy.
What is it yourself knows of the fine ladies
when they wouldn't let the like of you go near
to them at all ?
MARY.
Ifyou do be drinking a little sup in one town

and another town, it's soon you get great know-
ledge and a great sight into the world. You'll
see men there, and women there, sitting up on
the ends of barrels in the dark night, and they
making great talk would soon have the like of
you, Sarah Casey, as wise as a March hare.
MICHAEL, to Sarah.
That's the truth she's saying, and maybe if
you've sense in you at all you'd have a right
still to leave your fooling, and not be wasting
our gold.
SARAH, decisively.
If it's wise or fool I am, I've made a good
bargain, and I'll stand to it now.
MARY .
What is it he's making you give ?

36
MICHAEL .
The ten shillings in gold, and the tin can is

above tied in the sack.
MARY, looking at the bundle with surprise

and dread.
The bit of gold and the tin can is it ?

MICHAEL.
The half a sovereign and the gallon can.

MARY, scrambling to her feet quickly.
Well, I think I'll be walking off the road to the
fair the way you won't be destroying me going
too fast on the hills. (She goes a few steps
towards the left, then turns and speaks to Sarah
very persuasively.) Let you not take the can
from the sack, Sarah Casey ; for the people is
coming above would be making game of you,
and pointing their fingers if they seen you do
the like of that. Let you leave it safe in the
bag, I'm saying, Sarah darling. It's that way
will be best.
She goes towards left, and pausesfor a moment,
looking about her with embarrassment .
MICHAEL, in a low voice.
What ails her at all ?
37
SARAH, anxiously.
It's real wicked she does be when you hear
her speaking as easy as that.
MARY, to herself.
I'd be safer in the chapel, I'm thinking ; for if
she caught me after on the road, maybe she
would kill me then.
She comes hobbling back towards the right.
SARAH.
Where is it you're going ? It isn't that way

we'll be walking to the fair.
MARY .
I'm going up into the chapel to give you my

blessing and hear the priest saying his prayers. It's
a lonesome road is running below to Greenane,
and a woman would never know the things
might happen her and she walking single in a
lonesome place.
As she reaches the chapel-gate, the priest comes
to it in his surplice.
PRIEST, crying out.

Come along now. Is it the whole day you'd
38
keep me here saying my prayers, and I getting
my death with not a bit in my stomach, and my
breakfast in ruins, and the Lord Bishop maybe
driving on the road to-day ?
SARAH.
We're coming now, holy father.

PRIEST .
Give me the bit of gold into my hand.

SARAH,
It's here, holy father.

She gives it to him. Michael takes the bundle
from the ditch and brings it over, standing a
little behind Sarah. He feels the bundle, and
looks at Mary with a meaning look.
PRIEST, looking at the gold.
It's a good one, I'm thinking, wherever you got
it. And where is the can ?
SARAH, taking the bundle.

We have it here in a bit of clean sack, your
reverence. We tied it up in the inside of that
to keep it from rusting in the dews of night,
and let you not open it now or you'll have the
39
people making game of us and telling the story
on us, east and west to the butt of the hills.
PRIEST, taking the bundle.
Give it here into my hand, Sarah Casey. What
is it any person would think of a tinker making
a can?
He begins opening the bundle.
SARAH .
It's a fine can, your reverence, for if it's poor,

simple people we are, it's fine cans we can
make, and himself, God help him, is a great
man surely at the trade.
Priest opens bundle ; the three empty bottles
fall out.
SARAH.
Glory to the saints ofjoy !

PRIEST.
Did ever any man see the like of that ? To

think you'd be putting deceit on me, and telling
lies to me, and I going to marry you for a little
sum wouldn't marry a child.
SARAH, crestfallen and astonished.
It's the divil did it, your reverence, and I
40
wouldn't tell you a lie. (Raising her hands.)
May the Lord Almighty strike me dead if the
divil isn't after hooshing the tin can from the
bag.
PRIEST, vehemently.
Go along now, and don't be swearing your
lies. Go along now, and let you not be think-
ing I'm big fool enough to believe the like of
that when it's after selling it you are or making
a swap for drink of it, maybe, in the darkness of
the night.
MARY, in a peacemaking voice, putting her
hand on the Priest's left arm.
She wouldn't do the like of that, your reverence,
when she hasn't a decent standing drouth on
her at all ; and she setting great store on her
marriage the way you'd have a right to be
taking her easy, and not minding the can.
What differ would an empty can make with a
fine, rich, hardy man the like of you ?
SARAH, imploringly.
Marry us, your reverence, for the ten shillings
in gold, and we'll make you a grand can in the
evening-a can would be fit to carry water for
the holy man ofGod. Marry us now and I'll
be saying fine prayers for you, morning and
41
night, if it'd be raining itself, and it'd be in two
black pools I'd be setting my knees.
PRIEST, loudly.
It's a wicked, thieving, lying, scheming lot you
are, the pack of you. Let you walk off now
and take every stinking rag you have there from
the ditch.
MARY, putting her shawl over her head.

Marry her, your reverence, for the love of God,
for there'll be queer doings below if you send
her off the like of that and she swearing crazy
on the road .
SARAH, angrily.
It's the truth she's saying ; for it's herself, I'm
thinking, is after swapping the tin can for a pint,
the time she was raging mad with the drouth,
and ourselves above walking the hill.
MARY, crying out with indignation.
Have you no shame, Sarah Casey, to tell lies
unto a holy man ?
SARAH, to Mary, working herself into a rage.
It's making game of me you'd be, and putting a
42
fool's head on me in the face of the world ; but
if you were thinking to be mighty cute walking
off, or going up to hide in the church, I've got
you this time, and you'll not run from me now.
She seizes one of the bottles.
MARY, hiding behind the priest.

Keep her off, your reverence ; keep her off, for
the love of the Almighty God. What at all
would the Lord Bishop say if he found me here
lying with my head broken across, or the two of
yous maybe digging a bloody grave for me at
the door of the church ?
PRIEST, waving Sarah off.

Go along, Sarah Casey. Would you be doing
murder at my feet ? Go along from me now,
and wasn't I a big fool to have to do with you
when it's nothing but distraction and torment I
get from the kindness of my heart ?
SARAH, shouting.
I've bet a power of strong lads east and west
through the world, and are you thinking I'd turn
back from a priest ? Leave the road now, or
maybe I would strike yourself.
43
PRIEST .
You would not, Sarah Casey. I've no fear for

the lot of you ; but let you walk off, I'm saying,
and not be coming where you've no business,
and screeching tumult and murder at the door-
way of the church.
SARAH .
I'll not go a step till I have her head broke, or

till I'm wed with himself. If you want to get
shut of us, let you marry us now, for I'm think-
ing the ten shillings in gold is a good price for
the like of you, and you near burst with the fat.
PRIEST .
I wouldn't have you coming in on me and

soiling my church ; for there's nothing at all,
I'm thinking, would keep the like of you from
hell. (He throws down the ten shillings on the
ground.) Gather up your gold now, and begone
from my sight, for if ever I set an eye on you
again you'll hear me telling the peelers who it
was stole the black ass belonging to Philly
O'Cullen, and whose hay it is the grey ass does
be eating.
SARAH ,
You'ddo that ?
44
PRIEST .
I would, surely.
SARAH.
If you do, you'll be getting all the tinkers from

Wicklow and Wexford, and the County Meath,
to put up block tin in the place of glass to shield
your windows where you do be looking out and
blinking at the girls. It's hard set you'll be
that time, I'm telling you, to fill the depth of
your belly the long days of Lent ; for we
wouldn't leave a laying pullet in your yard
atall.
PRIEST, losing his temperfinally.

Go on, now, or I'll send the Lords of Justice a
dated story of your villainies-burning, stealing,
robbing, raping to this mortal day. Go on
now, I'm saying, if you'd run from Kilmainham
or the rope itself.
MICHAEL, taking offhis coat.
Is it run from the like of you, holy father ? Go
up to your own shanty, or I'll beat you with
the ass's reins till the world would hear you
roaring from this place to the coast of Clare.
PRIEST .
Is it lift your hand upon myself when the

45
Lord would blight your members if you'd
touch me now ? Go on from this.
He gives him a shove.
MICHAEL.
Blight me, is it ? Take it then, your reverence,

and God help you so.
He runs at him with the reins.
PRIEST, runs up to ditch, crying out.

There are the peelers passing by the grace of
God. Hey, below !
MARY, clapping her hand over his mouth.
Knock him down on the road ; they didn't hear
him at all. ( Michael pulls him down.)
SARAH .
Gag his jaws.

MARY.
Stuff the sacking in his teeth.

They gag him with the sack that had the
can in it.
SARAH .
Tie the bag around his head, and if the peelers

46
come, we'll put him headfirst in the boghole is
beyond the ditch.
They tie him up in some sacking.
MICHAEL, to Mary.
Keep him quiet, and the rags tight on him for
fear he'd screech. (He goes back to their camp.)
Hurry with the things, Sarah Casey. The
peelers aren't coming this way, and maybe we'll
get off from them now.
They bundle the things together in wild haste,
the priest wriggling and struggling about on the
ground, with old Mary trying to keep him quiet.
MARY, patting his head.
Be quiet, your reverence. What is it ails you,
with your wriggling now ? Is it choking
maybe ? (She puts her hand under the sack, and
feels his mouth, patting him on the back.) It's
only letting on you are, holy father, for your
nose is blowing back and forward as easy as an
east wind on an April day. (In a soothing voice.)
There now, holy father, let you stay easy, I'm
telling you, and learn a little sense and patience,
the way you'll not be so airy again going to
rob poor sinners of their scraps of gold. (He
gets quieter.) That's a good boy you are now,
47
your reverence, and let you not be uneasy, for
we wouldn't hurt you at all. It's sick and sorry
we are to tease you ; but what did you want
meddling with the like of us, when it's a
long time we are going our own ways-father
and son, and his son after him, or mother and
daughter, and her own daughter again-and
it's little need we ever had of going up into
7
a church and swearing-I'm told there's swear-
ing with it a word no man would believe, or
with drawing rings on our fingers, would be
cutting our skins maybe when we'd be taking
the ass from the shafts, and pulling the straps
the time they'd be slippy with going around
beneath the heavens in rains falling.
MICHAEL, who has finished bundling up the

things, comes over with Sarah.
We're fixed now ; and I have a mind to run
him in a boghole the way he'll not be tattling
to the peelers of our games to-day.
SARAH.
You'd have a right too, I'm thinking.

MARY, soothingly.
Let you not be rough with him, Sarah Casey,
and he after drinking his sup of porter with us
48
at the fall of night. Maybe he'd swear a mighty
oath he wouldn't harm us, and then we'd safer
loose him ; for if we went to drown him, they'd
maybe hang the batch of us, man and child and
woman, and the ass itself.
MICHAEL.
What would he care for an oath ?

MARY.
Don't you know his like do live in terror of the

wrath ofGod ? (Putting her mouth to the Priest's
ear in the sacking.) Would you swear an oath,
holy father, to leave us in our freedom, and not
talk at all ? (Priest nods in sacking.) Didn't I
tell you ? Look at the poor fellow nodding
his head off in the bias of the sacks. Strip
them off from him, and he'll be easy now.
MICHAEL, as ifspeaking to a horse.
Hold up, holy father.
He pulls the sacking off, and shows the Priest
with his hair on end. They free his mouth.
MARY.
Hold him till he swears.
PRIEST, in afaint voice.

I swear, surely. Ifyou let me go in peace, I'll
49 E
not inform against you or say a thing at all,
and may God forgive me for giving heed
unto your like to-day.
SARAH, puts the ring on hisfinger.
There's the ring, holy father, to keep you mind-

ing of your oath until the end of time ; for
my heart's scalded with your fooling ; and it'll
be a long day till I go making talk of marriage
or the like of that.
MARY, complacently, standing up slowly.

She's vexed now, your reverence ; and let you
not mind her at all, for she's right, surely,
and it's little need we ever had of the like
of you to get us our bit to eat, and our bit
to drink, and our time of love when we were
young men and women, and were fine to look at.
MICHAEL .
Hurry on now. He's a great man to have kept

us from fooling our gold ; and we'll have a great
time drinking that bit with the trampers on the
green of Clash.
They gather up their things. The Priest
stands up.
50
PRIEST, lifting up his hand.
I've sworn not to call the hand of man upon
your crimes to-day ; but I haven't sworn I
wouldn't call the fire of heaven from the hand
of the Almighty God.
He begins saying a Latin malediction in a
loud ecclesiastical voice.
MARY,
There's an old villain.
ALL, together.
Run, run. Run for your lives.
They rush out, leaving the Priest master of
the situation.
CURTAIN .
51
RIDERS TO THE SEA
PERSONS IN THE PLAY
MAURYA, an old Woman

BARTLEY, her Son
CATHLEEN, her Daughter
NORA, a younger Daughter
MEN AND WOMEN
SCENE-An Island off the West of Ireland

RIDERS TO THE SEA
Cottage kitchen, with nets, oilskins, spinning-

wheel, some new boards standing by the wall, etc.
Cathleen, a girl of about twenty, finishes kneading
cake, and puts it down in the pot-oven by the fire ;
then wipes her hands, and begins to spin at the
wheel. Nora, a young girl, puts her head in
at the door.
NORA, in a low voice.

Where is she ?
CATHLEEN ,
She's lying down, God help her, and maybe

sleeping, if she's able.
Nora comes in softly and takes a bundle from
under her shawl.
CATHLEEN, spinning the wheel rapidly.

What is it you have ?
NORA.
The young priest is after bringing them. It's

55
Riders to the Sea
a shirt and a plain stocking were got off a
drowned man in Donegal.
Gathleen stops her wheel with a sudden move-
ment, and leans out to listen.
NORA .
We're to find out if it's Michael's they are,

some time herself will be down looking by
the sea.
CATHLEEN .
How would they be Michael's, Nora ? How

would he go the length of that way to the
far north ?
NORA .
The young priest says he's known the like of

it. " If it's Michael's they are," says he, " you
can tell herself he's got a clean burial, by the
grace of God ; and if they're not his, let no
one say a word about them, for she'll be
getting her death," says he, " with crying and
lamenting."
The door which Nora half closed is blown
open by a gust of wind.
CATHLEEN, looking out anxiously.
Did you ask him would he stop Bartley going
this day with the horses to the Galway fair ?
56
1
Riders to the Sea
NORA .
" I won't stop him," says he ; " but let you not
be afraid. Herself does be saying prayers half
through the night, and the Almighty God
won't leave her destitute," says he, " with no
son living."
CATHLEEN .
Is the sea bad by the white rocks, Nora ?

NORA .
Middling bad, God help us. There's a great

roaring in the west, and it's worse it'll be
getting when the tide's turned to the wind.
(She goes over to the table with the bundle.) Shall
I open it now ?
CATHLEEN .
Maybe she'd wake up on us, and come in

before we'd done (coming to the table) . It's a
long time we'll be, and the two of us crying.
NORA, goes to the inner door and listens.
She's moving about on the bed. She'll be
coming in a minute.
CATHLEEN .
Give me the ladder, and I'll put them up in

57
Riders to the Sea
the turf-loft, the way she won't know of them

at all, and maybe when the tide turns she'll
be going down to see would he be floating
from the east.
They put the ladder against the gable of the
chimney ; Cathleen goes up a few steps and hides
the bundle in the turf-loft. Maurya comes from
the inner room.
MAURYA, looking up at Cathleen and speaking

querulously.
Isn't it turf enough you have for this day and
evening ?
CATHLEEN .
There's a cake baking at the fire for a short

space (throwing down the turf), and Bartley will
want it when the tide turns if he goes to
Connemara.
Nora picks up the turf and puts it round the
pot-oven.
MAURYA, sitting down on a stool at the fire.
He won't go this day with the wind rising from
the south and west. He won't go this day, for
the young priest will stop him surely.
NORA .
He'll not stop him, mother ; and I heard

58
Riders to the Sea
Eamon Simon and Stephen Pheety and Colum

Shawn saying he would go.
MAURYA.
Where is he itself?
NORA .
He went down to see would there be another

boat sailing in the week, and I'm thinking it
won't be long till he's here now, for the tide's
turning at the green head, and the hooker's
tacking from the east.
CATHLEEN.
I hear some one passing the big stones.

NORA, looking out.
He's coming now, and he in a hurry.
BARTLEY, comes in and looks round the room.
Speaking sadly and quietly.
Where is the bit of new rope, Cathleen, was
bought in Connemara ?
CATHLEEN, coming down.
Give it to him, Nora ; it's on a nail by the
white boards. I hung it up this morning, for
the pig with the black feet was eating it.
59
Riders to the Sea
NORA, giving him a rope.

Is that it, Bartley ?
MAURYA .
You'd do right to leave that rope, Bartley,

hanging by the boards. (Bartley takes the rope.)
It will be wanting in this place, I'm telling you,
if Michael is washed up to-morrow morning, or
the next morning, or any morning in the week ;
for it's a deep grave we'll make him, by the
grace ofGod.
BARTLEY, beginning to work with the rope.
I've no halter the way I can ride down on the
mare, and I must go now quickly. This is the
one boat going for two weeks or beyond it, and
the fair will be a good fair for horses, I heard
them saying below.
MAURYA .
It's a hard thing they'll be saying below if the

body is washed up and there's no man in it to
make the coffin, and I after giving a big price
for the finest white boards you'd find in
Connemara. (She looks round at the boards.)
BARTLEY .
How would it be washed up, and we after

60
Riders to the Sea
looking each day for nine days, and a strong

wind blowing a while back from the west and
south ?
MAURYA .
If it isn't found itself, that wind is raising the

sea, and there was a star up against the moon,
and it rising in the night. If it was a hundred
horses, or a thousand horses, you had itself,
what is the price of a thousand horses against
a son where there is one son only.
BARTLEY, working at the halter, to Cathleen.
Let you go down each day, and see the sheep
aren't jumping in on the rye, and if the jobber
comes you can sell the pig with the black feet
if there is a good price going.
MAURYA .
How would the like of her get a good price for

a pig.
BARTLEY, to Cathleen.
If the west wind holds with the last bit of the
moon let you and Nora get up weed enough for
another cock for the kelp. It's hard set we'll
be from this day with no one in it but one man
to work.
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Riders to the Sea
MAURYA.
It's hard set we'll be surely the day you're

drowned with the rest. What way will I live
and the girls with me, and I an old woman
looking for the grave ?
Bartley lays down the halter, takes off his old
coat, and puts on a newer one of the same
flannel.
BARTLEY, to Nora.
Is she coming to the pier ?
NORA, looking out.
She's passing the green head and letting fall
her sails.
BARTLEY, getting his purse and tobacco.

I'll have half an hour to go down, and you'll
see me coming again in two days, or in three
days, or maybe in four days if the wind is bad.
MAURYA, turning round to the fire and putting
the shawl over her head.
Isn't it a hard and cruel man won't hear a word
from an old woman, and she holding him from
the sea ?
CATHLEEN .
It's the life of a young man to be going on the

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Riders to the Sea
sea, and who would listen to an old woman
with one thing and she saying it over ?
BARTLEY, taking the halter.

I must go now quickly. I'll ride down on the
red mare, and the grey pony'll run behind me.
•
The blessing of God on you.

He goes out.
MAURYA, crying out as he is in the door.

He's gone now, God spare us, and we'll not see
him again. He's gone now, and when the
black night is falling I'll have no son left me in
the world.
CATHLEEN .
Why wouldn't you give him your blessing and

he looking round in the door ? Isn't it sorrow
enough is on everyone in this house without
your sending him out with an unlucky word
behind him, and a hard word in his ear ?
Maurya takes up the tongs and begins raking
the fire aimlessly without looking round.
NORA, turning towards her.
You're taking away the turf from the cake.
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Riders to the Sea
CATHLEEN, crying out.
The Son of God forgive us, Nora, we're after
forgetting his bit of bread.
She comes over to the fire.
NORA.
And it's destroyed he'll be going till dark

night, and he after eating nothing since the sun
went up.
CATHLEEN, turning the cake out of the oven.

It's destroyed he'll be, surely. There's no
sense left on any person in a house where an
old woman will be talking for ever.
Maurya sways herselfon her stool.
CATHLEEN, cutting off some of the bread and
rolling it in a cloth ; to Maurya.
Let you go down now to the spring well and
give him this and he passing. You'll see him
then and the dark word will be broken, and
you can say "God speed you," the way he'll be
easy in his mind.
MAURYA, taking the bread.

Will I be in it as soon as himself ?
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Riders to the Sea
CATHLEEN .
If you go now quickly.

MAURYA, standing up unsteadily.
It's hard set I am to walk.
CATHLEEN, looking at her anxiously.

Give her the stick, Nora, or maybe she'll slip on
the big stones.
NORA .
What stick ?
CATHLEEN .
The stick Michael brought from Connemara.

MAURYA, taking a stick Nora gives her.
In the big world the old people do be leaving
things after them for their sons and children, but
in this place it is the young men do be leaving
things behind for them that do be old.
She goes out slowly. Nora goes over to the
ladder.
CATHLEEN .
Wait, Nora, maybe she'd turn back quickly.

She's that sorry, God help her, you wouldn't
know the thing she'd do.
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Riders to the Sea
NORA ,
Is she gone round by the bush ?
CATHLEEN, looking out.

She's gone now. Throw it down quickly, for
the Lord knows when she'll be out of it again.
NORA, getting the bundlefrom the loft.

The young priest said he'd be passing to-morrow,
and we might go down and speak to him below
if it's Michael's they are surely.
CATHLEEN, taking the bundle.
Did he say what way they were found ?
NORA, coming down.

" There were two men," says he, " and they
rowing round with poteen before the cocks
crowed, and the oar of one of them caught the
body, and they passing the black cliffs of the
north."
CATHLEEN, trying to open the bundle.

Give me a knife, Nora ; the string's perished
with the salt water, and there's a black knot on
it you wouldn't loosen in a week.
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Riders to the Sea
NORA, giving her a knife.

I've heard tell it was a long way to Donegal.
CATHLEEN, cutting the string.
It is surely. There was a man in here a while
ago-the man sold us that knife-and he said if
you set off walking from the rocks beyond, it
would be in seven days you'd be in Donegal.
NORA .
And what time would a man take, and he

floating ?
Cathleen opens the bundle and takes out a bit
of a shirt and a stocking. They look at them
eagerly.
CATHLEEN, in a low voice.
The Lord spare us, Nora ! isn't it a queer hard
thing to say if it's his they are surely ?
NORA .
I'll get his shirt off the hook the way we can
put the one flannel on the other. (She looks
through some clothes hanging in the corner. ) It's not
with them, Cathleen, and where will it be ?
CATHLEEN .
I'm thinking Bartley put it on him in the

67
Riders to the Sea
morning, for his own shirt was heavy with the
salt in it. (Pointing to the corner.) There's
a bit of a sleeve was of the same stuff. Give
me that and it will do. (Nora brings it to her
and they compare the flannel.) It's the same
stuff, Nora ; but if it is itself aren't there
great rolls of it in the shops of Galway, and
isn't it many another man may have a shirt
of it as well as Michael himself ?
NORA, who has taken up the stocking and counted

the stitches, crying out.
It's Michael, Cathleen, it's Michael ; God spare
his soul, and what will herself say when she
hears this story, and Bartley on the sea ?
CATHLEEN, taking the stocking.

It's a plain stocking.
NORA .
It's the second one of the third pair I knitted,

and I put up three-score stitches, and I dropped
four of them .
CATHLEEN, counts the stitches.

It's that number is in it (crying out). Ah, Nora,
isn't it a bitter thing to think of him floating
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Riders to the Sea
that way to the far north, and no one to keen

him but the black hags that do be flying on the
sea ?
NORA, swinging herselfhalf round, and throw-

ing out her arms on the clothes.
And isn't it a pitiful thing when there is nothing
left of a man who was a great rower and fisher
but a bit of an old shirt and a plain stocking ?
CATHLEEN, after an instant.
Tell me is herself coming, Nora ? I hear a
little sound on the path.
NORA, looking out.

She is, Cathleen. She's coming up to the door.
CATHLEEN .
Put these things away before she'll come in.

Maybe it's easier she'll be after giving her
blessing to Bartley, and we won't let on we've
heard anything the time he's on the sea.
NORA, helping Cathleen to close the bundle.

We'll put them here in the corner.
Theyput them into ahole in the chimney corner.
Cathleen goes back to the spinning-wheel .
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Riders to the Sea
NORA .
Will she see it was crying I was ?

CATHLEEN .
Keep your back to the door the way the light'll

not be on you.
Nora sits down at the chimney corner, with her
back to the door. Maurya comes in very slowly,
without looking at the girls, and goes over to her
stool at the other side of thefire. The cloth with
the bread is still in her hand. The girls look
at each other, and Nora points to the bundle of
bread.
CATHLEEN, after spinning for a moment.

You didn't give him his bit of bread ?
Maurya begins to keen softly, without turning
round.
CATHLEEN .
Did you see him riding down ?

Maurya goes on keening.
CATHLEEN, a little impatiently.
God forgive you ; isn't it a better thing to
raise your voice and tell what you seen, than to
be making lamentation for a thing that's done ?
Did you see Bartley, I'm saying to you ?
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Riders to the Sea
MAURYA, with a weak voice.
My heart's broken from this day.
CATHLEEN, as before.
Did you see Bartley ?
MAURYA,
I seen the fearfullest thing.

Cathleen, leaves her wheel and looks out.
God forgive you ; he's riding the mare now
over the green head, and the grey pony behind
him.
MAURYA, starts, so that her shawl falls back

from her head and shows her white tossed
hair. With a frightened voice.
The grey pony behind him • •
CATHLEEN, coming to the fire.

What is it ails you at all ?
MAURYA, speaking very slowly.
I've seen the fearfullest thing any person has seen
since the day Bride Dara seen the dead man
with the child in his arms.
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Riders to the Sea
CATHLEEN and NORA.
Uah.
They crouch down in front of the old woman
at thefire.
NORA .
Tell us what it is you seen.

MAURYA .
I went down to the spring well, and I stood

there saying a prayer to myself. Then Bartley
came along, and he riding on the red mare with
the grey pony behind him (she puts up her hands,
as if to hide something from her eyes). The Son
ofGod spare us, Nora !
CATHLEEN .
What is it you seen.

MAURYA .
I seen Michael himself.
CATHLEEN, speaking softly.

You did not, mother. It wasn't Michael you
seen, for his body is after being found in the
far north, and he's got a clean burial, by the
grace ofGod.
MAURYA, a little defiantly.
I'm after seeing him this day, and he riding and
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Riders to the Sea
galloping. Bartley came first on the red mare,

and I tried to say "God speed you," but some-
thing choked the words in my throat. He
went by quickly ; and " the blessing of God
on you," says he, and I could say nothing. I
looked up then, and I crying, at the grey pony,
and there was Michael upon it-with fine
clothes on him, and new shoes on his feet.
CATHLEEN, begins to keen.
It's destroyed we are from this day. It's
destroyed, surely.
NORA ,
Didn't the young priest say the Almighty God

won't leave her destitute with no son living ?
MAURYA, in a low voice, but clearly.
It's little the like of him knows of the sea. ...
Bartley will be lost now, and let you call in

Eamon and make me a good coffin out of the
white boards, for I won't live after them. I've
had a husband, and a husband's father, and six
sons in this house-six fine men, though it was
a hard birth I had with every one of them and
they coming to the world and some of them
were found and some of them were not found,
but they're gone now the lot of them.
There were Stephen and Shawn were lost in
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Riders to the Sea
the great wind, and found after in the Bay of

Gregory of the Golden Mouth, and carried up
the two of them on one plank, and in by that
door.
She pauses for a moment, the girls start as if

they heard something through the door that is
half open behind them.
NORA, in a whisper.
Did you hear that, Cathleen ? Did you hear
a noise in the north-east ?
CATHLEEN, in a whisper.
There's some one after crying out by the sea-
shore.
MAURYA, continues without hearing anything.

There was Sheamus and his father, and his own
father again, were lost in a dark night, and not
a stick or sign was seen of them when the sun
went up. There was Patch after was drowned
out of a curragh that was turned over. Iwas
sitting here with Bartley, and he a baby lying
on my two knees, and I seen two women, and
three women, and four women coming in, and
they crossing themselves and not saying a word.
I looked out then, and there were men coming
after them, and they holding a thing in the half
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Riders to the Sea
of a red sail, and water dripping out of it-it

was a dry day, Nora-and leaving a track to
the door.
She pauses again with her hand stretched out

towards the door. It opens softly and old women
begin to come in, crossing themselves on the
threshold, and kneeling down in front of the
stage with red petticoats over their heads.
MAURYA, half in a dream, to Cathleen.
Is it Patch, or Michael, or what is it at all ?
CATHLEEN.
Michael is after being found in the far north,

and when he is found there how could he be
here in this place ?
MAURYA .
There does be a power of young men floating

round in the sea, and what way would they
know if it was Michael they had, or another
man like him, for when a man is nine days in
the sea, and the wind blowing, it's hard set his
own mother would be to say what man was
in it.
CATHLEEN .
It's Michael, God spare him, for they're after

75
Riders to the Sea
sending us a bit of his clothes from the far

north.
She reaches out and hands Maurya the clothes that

belonged to Michael. Maurya stands up slowly,
and takes them in her hands. Nora looks out.
NORA,
They're carrying a thing among them, and

there's water dripping out of it and leaving a
track by the big stones.
CATHLEEN, in a whisper to the women who

have come in.
Is it Bartley it is ?
ONE OF THE WOMEN.
It is, surely, God rest his soul.

Two younger women come in and pull out the
table. Then men carry in the body of Bartley,
laid on a plank, with a bit ofa sail over it, and
lay it on the table.
CATHLEEN, to the women as they are doing so.
What way was he drowned ?
ONE OF THE WOΜΕΝ .
The grey pony knocked him over into the sea,

76
Riders to the Sea
and he was washed out where there is a great

surf on the white rocks.
Maurya has gone over and knelt down at the head
of the table. The women are keening softly and
swaying themselves with aslow movement.
Cathleen and Nora kneel at the other end of the
table. The men kneel near the door.
MAURYA, raising her head and speaking as if

she did not see the people around her.
They're all gone now, and there isn't anything
more the sea can do to me. I'll have no
call now to be up crying and praying when the
wind breaks from the south, and you can hear
the surf is in the east, and the surf is in the
west, making a great stir with the two noises,
and they hitting one on the other. I'll have no
call now to be going down and getting Holy
Water in the dark nights after Samhain, and I
won't care what way the sea is when the other
women will be keening. (To Nora.) Give me
the Holy Water, Nora ; there's a small sup still
on the dresser. (Nora gives it to her.)
MAURYA, drops Michael's clothes across Bartley's

feet, and sprinkles the Holy Water over him.
It isn't that I haven't prayed for you, Bartley,
to the Almighty God. It isn't that I haven't
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Riders to the Sea
said prayers in the dark night till you wouldn't

know what I'd be saying ; but it's a great rest
I'll have now, and it's time, surely. It's a great
rest I'll have now, and great sleeping in the long
nights after Samhain, if it's only a bit of wet
flour we do have to eat, and maybe a fish that
would be stinking.
She kneels down again, crossing herself, and
saying prayers under her breath.
CATHLEEN, to an old man.
Maybe yourself and Eamon would make a coffin
when the sun rises. We have fine white boards
herself bought, God help her, thinking Michael
would be found, and I have a new cake you can
eat while you'll be working.
THE OLD MAN, looking at the boards.
Are there nails with them ?
CATHLEEN .
There are not, Colum ; we didn't think of the

nails.
ANOTHER MAN.
It's a great wonder she wouldn't think of the

nails, and all the coffins she's seen made already.
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Riders to the Sea
CATHLEEN .
It's getting old she is, and broken.

Maurya stands up again very slowly and spreads
out the pieces of Michael's clothes beside the body,
sprinkling them with the last of the Holy Water.
NORA, in a whisper to Cathleen.
She's quiet now and easy ; but the day Michael
was drowned you could hear her crying out
from this to the spring well. It's fonder she
was of Michael, and would anyone have
thought that ?
CATHLEEN, slowly and clearly.
An old woman will be soon tired with anything
she will do, and isn't it nine days herself is after
crying and keening, and making great sorrow in
the house ?
MAURYA, puts the empty cup mouth downwards

on
the table, and lays her hands together on
Bartley's feet.
They're all together this time, and the end is
come. May the Almighty God have mercy on
Bartley's soul, and on Michael's soul, and on the
souls of Sheamus and Patch, and Stephen and
Shawn (bending her head) ; and may He have
79
1
Riders to the Sea

mercy on my soul, Nora, and on the soul of
every one is left living in the world.
She pauses, and the keen rises a little more loudly
from the women, then sinks away.
MAURYA, continuing.
Michael has a clean burial in the far north, by
the grace of the Almighty God. Bartley will
have a fine coffin out of the white boards, and a
deep grave surely. What more can we want
than that ? No man at all can be living for ever,
and we must be satisfied.
She kneels down again and the curtainfalls
slowly.
80
G
PERSONS IN THE PLAY
DAN BURKE, Farmer and Herd

NORA BURKE, his Wife
MICHAEL DARA, a young Herd
A TRAMP
SCENE-The last cottage at the head of a

long glen in County Wicklow
Cottage kitchen ; turf-fire on the right ; a bed

near it against the wall, with a body lying on it
covered with a sheet . A door is at the other end
of the room, with a low table near it, and stools, or
wooden chairs. There are a couple ofglasses on the
table, and a bottle of whisky, as iffor a wake, with
two cups, a teapot, and a home-made cake. There
is another small door near the bed. Nora Burke is
moving about the room, settling a few things, and
lighting candles on the table, looking now and then
at the bed with an uneasy look. Some one knocks
softly at the door. She takes up a stocking with
moneyfrom the table and puts it in her pocket. Then
she opens the door.
TRAMP, outside.
Good evening to you, lady of the house.

NORA .
Good evening kindly, stranger ; it's a wild night,

God help you, to be out in the rain falling.
83
The Shadow of the Glen
TRAMP.
It is, surely, and I walking to Brittas from the

Aughrim fair.
NORA.
Is it walking on your feet, stranger ?

TRAMP.
On my two feet, lady of the house, and when I

saw the light below I thought maybe ifyou'd a
sup of new milk and a quiet, decent corner where
a man could sleep ...
(he looks in past her and

sees the dead man). The Lord have mercy on
us all !
NORA .
It doesn't matter anyway, stranger ; come in out

of the rain.
TRAMP, coming in slowly and going towards

the bed.
Is it departed he is?
NORA.
It is, stranger. He's after dying on me, God

forgive him, and there Iam now with a hundred
sheep beyond on the hills, and no turf drawn
for the winter.
84
TRAMP, looking closely at the dead man.

It's a queer look is on him for a man that's
dead.
NORA, half-humorously.
He was always queer, stranger ; and I suppose
them that's queer and they living men will be
queer bodies after.
TRAMP .
Isn't it a great wonder you're letting him lie

there, and he not tidied, or laid out itself ?
NORA, coming to the bed.
I was afeard, stranger, for he put a black curse
on me this morning if I'd touch his body the
time he'd die sudden, or let anyone touch it
except his sister only, and it's ten miles away
she lives, in the big glen over the hill.
TRAMP, looking at her and nodding slowly.
It's a queer story he wouldn't let his own wife
touch him, and he dying quiet in his bed.
NORA .
He was an old man, and an odd man, stranger,

and it's always up on the hills he was, thinking
thoughts in the dark mist ...
(she pulls back a
85
bit of the sheet). Lay your hand on him now,
and tell me if it's cold he is surely.
TRAMP .
Is it getting the curse on me you'd be, woman

of the house ? I wouldn't lay my hand on him
for the Lough Nahanagan and it filled with
gold.
NORA, looking uneasily at the body.

Maybe cold would be no sign of death with the
like of him, for he was always cold, every day
since I knew him • and every night, stranger
..
..
(she covers up his face and comes awayfrom
the bed) ; but I'm thinking it's dead he is surely,
for he's complaining a while back of a pain in
his heart, and this morning, the time he was
going off to Brittas for three days or four, he
was taken with a sharp turn. Then he went
into his bed, and he was saying it was destroyed
he was, the time the shadow was going up
through the glen, and when the sun set on the
bog beyond he made a great lep, and let a great
cry out of him, and stiffened himselfout the like
of a dead sheep.
TRAMP, crosses himself.

God rest his soul.
86
NORA, pouring him out a glass of whisky.
Maybe that would do you better than the milk
of the sweetest cow in County Wicklow.
TRAMP .
The Almighty God reward you and may it be

to your good health. (He drinks.)
NORA, giving him a pipe and tobacco.
I've no pipes saving his own, stranger, but
they're sweet pipes to smoke.
TRAMP .
Thank you kindly, lady of the house.

NORA.
Sit down now, stranger, and be taking your

rest.
TRAMP, filling a pipe and looking about the

room .
I've walked a great way through the world, lady

of the house, and seen great wonders, but I never
seen a wake till this day with fine spirits, and
good tobacco, and the best ofpipes, and no one
to taste them but a woman only.
NORA .
Didn't you hear me say it was only after dying

87
on me he was when the sun went down, and
how would I go out into the glen and tell the
neighbours, and I a lone woman with no house
near me ?
TRAMP, drinking.
There's no offence, lady of the house ?
NORA .
No offence in life, stranger. How would the

like of you, passing in the dark night, know the
lonesome way I was with no house near me
at all ?
TRAMP, sitting down.

I knew rightly. (He lights his pipe, so that there
is a sharp light beneath his haggard face.) And I
was thinking, and I coming in through the door,
that it's many a lone woman would be afeard of
the like of me in the dark night, in a place
wouldn't be as lonesome as this place, where
there aren't two living souls would see the little
light you have shining from the glass.
NORA, slowly.
I'm thinking many would be afeard, but I never
knew what way I'd be afeard of beggar or bishop
or any man of you at all (she looks towards
•
the window and lowers her voice). It's other

88
things than the like of you, stranger, would
make a person afeard.
TRAMP, looking round with a half-shudder.

It is surely, God help us all !
NORA, looking at himfor a moment with
curiosity.
You're saying that, stranger, as if you were easy
afeard.
TRAMP, speaking mournfully.

Is it myself, lady of the house, that does be walk-
ing round in the long nights, and crossing the
hills when the fog is on them, the time a little
stick would seem as big as your arm, and a rabbit
as big as a bay horse, and a stack of turf as big
as a towering church in the city ofDublin ? If
myself was easy afeard, I'm telling you, it's long
ago I'd have been locked into the Richmond
Asylum, or maybe have run up into the back
hills with nothing on me but an old shirt, and
been eaten by the crows the like of Patch Darcy
-the Lord have mercy on him in the year
that's gone.
NORA, with interest.
You knew Darcy ?
89
TRAMP.
Wasn't I the last one heard his living voice in

the whole world ?
NORA .
There were great stories of what was heard at

that time, but would anyone believe the things
they do be saying in the glen ?
TRAMP.
It was no lie, lady of the house. •

..
I was
passing below on a dark night the like of this
night, and the sheep were lying under the ditch
and every one of them coughing and choking
like an old man, with the great rain and the fog.
Then I heard a thing talking-queer talk, you
wouldn't believe it at all, and you out of your
dreams-and " Merciful God," says I, " if I
begin hearing the like of that voice out of the
thick mist, I'm destroyed surely." Then I run
and I run till I was below in Rathvanna. I got
drunk that night, I got drunk in the morning,
and drunk the day after-I was coming from
the races beyond-and the third day they found
Darcy. .. Then I knew it was himself I was
after hearing, and I wasn't afeard any more.
NORA, speaking sorrowfully and slowly.
God spare Darcy ; he'd always look in here and
90
he passing up or passing down, and it's very
lonesome I was after him a long while (she looks
over at the bed and lowers her voice, speaking very
slowly), and then I got happy again if it's ever
happy we are, stranger-for I got used to being
lonesome. (A short pause ; then she stands up.)
Was there anyone on the last bit of the road,
stranger, and you coming from Aughrim ?
TRAMP.
There was a young man with a drift of mountain

ewes, and he running after them this way and
that.
NORA, with a half-smile.

Far down, stranger ?
TRAMP .
Apiece only.
Nora fills the kettle and puts it on the fire.
NORA .
Maybe, if you're not easy afeard, you'd stay here

a short while alone with himself.
TRAMP .
I would surely. A man that's dead can do no

hurt.
91
NORA, speaking with a sort of constraint.

I'm going a little back to the west, stranger, for
himself would go there one night and another
and whistle at that place, and then the young
man you're after seeing a kind of a farmer has
come up from the sea to live in a cottage beyond
-would walk round to see if there was a thing
we'd have to be done, and I'm wanting him this
night, the way he can go down into the glen
when the sun goes up and tell the people that
himself is dead.
TRAMP, looking at the body in the sheet.

It's myself will go for him, lady of the house,
and let you not be destroying yourself with the
great rain.
NORA.
You wouldn't find your way, stranger, for there's

a small path only, and it running up between
two sluigs where an ass and cart would be
drowned. (She puts a shawl over her head.) Let
you be making yourself easy, and saying a prayer
for his soul, and it's not long I'll be coming
again.
TRAMP, moving uneasily.
Maybe if you'd a piece of grey thread and a
sharp needle-there's great safety in a needle,
92
lady of the house-I'd be putting a little stitch
here and there in my old coat, the time I'll be
praying for his soul, and it going up naked to
the saints of God.
NORA, takes a needle and threadfrom thefront
ofher dress and gives it to him.
There's the needle, stranger, and I'm thinking
you won't be lonesome, and you used to the
back hills, for isn't a dead man itself more
company than to be sitting alone, and hearing
the winds crying, and you not knowing on
what thing your mind would stay ?
TRAMP, slowly.
It's true, surely, and the Lord have mercy on
us all !
Nora goes out. The tramp begins stitching one of
the tags in his coat, saying the " De Profundis "
under his breath. In an instant the sheet is
drawn slowly down, and Dan Burke looks out.
The tramp moves uneasily, then looks up, and
springs to hisfeet with a movement of terror.
DAN, with a hoarse voice.
Don't be afeard, stranger ; a man that's dead
can do no hurt.
TRAMP, trembling.
I meant no harm, your honour ; and won't you
93
leave me easy to be saying a little prayer for

your soul ? (A long whistle is heard outside.)
DAN, sitting up in his bed and speaking fiercely.
Ah, the devil mend her. Do you hear
that, stranger ? Did ever you hear another
woman could whistle the like of that with two
fingers in her mouth ? (He looks at the table
hurriedly.) I'm destroyed with the drouth, and
let you bring me a drop quickly before herself
will come back.
TRAMP, doubtfully.
Is it not dead you are ?
DAN.
How would I be dead, and I as dry as a baked

bone, stranger ?
TRAMP, pouring out the whisky.
What will herself say if she smells the stuff on
you, for I'm thinking it's not for nothing you're
letting on to be dead.
DAN.
It is not, stranger ; but she won't be coming

near me at all, and it's not long now I'll be
letting on, for I've a cramp in my back, and my
94
hip's asleep on me, and there's been the devil's
own fly itching my nose. It's near dead I was
wanting to sneeze, and you blathering about the
rain, and Darcy (bitterly)-the devil choke him
-and the towering church. (Crying out im-
patiently.) Give me that whisky. Would you
have herself come back before I taste a drop
at all ? (Tramp gives him the glass.)
DAN, after drinking.
Go over now to that cupboard, and bring me a
black stick you'll see in the west corner by the
wall .
TRAMP, taking a stick from the cupboard.

Is it that, your honour ?
DAN.
It is, stranger ; it's a long time I'm keeping that

stick, for I've a bad wife in the house.
TRAMP, with a queer look.
Is it herself, master of the house, and she a grand
woman to talk ?
DAN.
It's herself, surely, it's a bad wife she is a bad

wife for an old man, and I'm getting old, God
95
help me, though I've an arm to me still. (He

takes the stick in his hand.) Let you wait now a
short while, and it's a great sight you'll see in
this room in two hours or three. (He stops to
listen.) Is that somebody above ?
TRAMP, listening.
There's a voice speaking on the path.
DAN.
Put that stick here in the bed and smooth the

sheet the way it was lying. (He covers himself
up hastily.) Be falling to sleep now, and don't
let on you know anything, or I'll be having your
life. I wouldn't have told you at all but it's
destroyed with the drouth I was.
TRAMP, covering his head.

Have no fear, master of the house. What is it
I know of the like of you that I'd be saying
a word or putting out my hand to stay you
at all ?
He goes back to the fire, sits down on a stool
with his back to the bed, and goes on stitching
his coat.
DAN, under the sheet, querulously.

Stranger !
96
TRAMP, quickly.
Whisht ! whisht ! Be quiet, I'm telling you ;
they're coming now at the door.
Nora comes in with Michael Dara, a talı,
innocent young man, behind her.
NORA,
I wasn't long at all, stranger, for I met him-

self on the path.
TRAMP .
You were middling long, lady of the house.

NORA,
There was no sign from himself ?

TRAMP.
No sign at all, lady of the house.

NORA, to Michael.
Go over now and pull down the sheet, and look
on himself, Michael Dara, and you'll see it's the
truth I'm telling you.
MICHAEL.
I will not, Nora ; I do be afeard of the dead.

He sits down on a stool next the table, facing the
tramp. Nora puts the kettle on a lower hook of
the pot-hooks, and piles turf under it.
H
97
‫בית הספרים הלאמי‬

‫ומאוני‬
‫ברסיטאי‬
‫ירושלים‬
NORA, turning to tramp.
Will you drink a sup of tea with myself and the
young man, stranger, or (speaking more persua-
sively) will you go into the little room and
stretch yourself a short while on the bed ? I'm
thinking it's destroyed you are walking the
length of that way in the great rain.
TRAMP.
Is it go away and leave you, and you having a

wake, lady of the house ? I will not, surely.
(He takes a drink from his glass, which he has
beside him.) And it's none of your tea I'm
asking either.
Hegoes on stitching. Nora makes the tea.
MICHAEL, after looking at the tramp rather
scornfully for a moment.
That's a poor coat you have, God help you, and
I'm thinking it's a poor tailor you are with it.
TRAMP.
If it's a poor tailor I am, I'm thinking it's a

poor herd does be running backward and for-
ward after a little handful of ewes, the way I
seen yourself running this day, young fellow,
and you coming from the fair.
Nora comes back to the table.
98
NORA, to Michael, in a low voice.
Let you not mind him at all, Michael Dara ; he
has a drop taken, and it's soon he'll be falling
asleep.
MICHAEL.
It's no lie he's telling ; I was destroyed, surely.

They were that wilful they were running off
into one man's bit of oats, and another man's
bit of hay, and tumbling into the red bog till it's
more like a pack of old goats than sheep they
were.
Mountain ewes is a queer breed,
Nora Burke, and I not used to them at all.
NORA, settling the tea-things.
There's no one can drive a mountain ewe but
the men do be reared in the Glenmalure, I've
heard them say, and above by Rathvanna, and
the Glen Imaal-men the like of Patch Darcy,
God spare his soul, who would walk through five
hundred sheep and miss one of them, and he not
reckoning them at all.
MICHAEL, uneasily.
Is it the man went queer in his head the year
that's gone ?
NORA.
It is, surely.
99
TRAMP, plaintively.
That was a great man, young fellow-a great
man, I'm telling you. There was never a lamb
from his own ewes he wouldn't know before it
was marked, and he'd run from this to the city
of Dublin and never catch for his breath .
NORA, turning round quickly.

He was a great man surely, stranger ; and isn't
it a grand thing when you hear a living man
saying a good word of a dead man, and he
mad dying ?
TRAMP.
It's the truth I'm saying, God spare his soul.

He puts the needle under the collar of his coat,
and settles himself to sleep in the chimney corner.
Nora sits down at the table : Nora and Michael's
backs are turned to the bed.
MICHAEL, looking at her with a queer look.

Iheard tell this day, Nora Burke, that it was
on the path below Patch Darcy would be passing
up and passing down, and I heard them say he'd
never pass it night or morning without speaking
with yourself.
NORA, in a low voice.
It was no lie you heard, Michael Dara.
100
MICHAEL .
I'm thinking it's a power of men you're after

knowing if it's in a lonesome place you live
itself.
NORA, giving him his tea.

It's in a lonesome place you do have to be talk-
ing with some one, and looking for some one, in
the evening of the day, and if it's a power of
men I'm after knowing they were fine men, for
I was a hard child to please, and a hard girl to
please (she looks at him a little sternly), and it's
a hard woman I am to please this day, Michael
Dara, and it's no lie I'm telling you.
MICHAEL, looking over to see that the tramp
is asleep, and then pointing to the dead man.
Was it a hard woman to please you were when
you took himself for your man ?
NORA .
What way would I live, and I an old woman, if

I didn't marry a man with a bit of a farm, and
cows on it, and sheep on the back hills ?
MICHAEL, considering.
That's true, Nora, and maybe it's no fool you
were, for there's good grazing on it, if it is a
101
lonesome place, and I'm thinking it's a good sum
he's left behind.
NORA, taking the stocking with the money from

her pocket, and putting it on the table.
I do be thinking in the long nights it was a big
fool I was that time, Michael Dara ; for what
good is a bit of a farm with cows on it, and
sheep on the back hills, when you do be sitting
looking out from a door, and seeing nothing but
the mists rolling down the bog, and the mists
again and they rolling up the bog, and hear
nothing but the wind crying out in the bits of
broken trees were left from the great storm, and
the streams roaring with the rain.
MICHAEL, looking at her uneasily.
What is it ails you this night, Nora Burke ?
I've heard tell it's the like of that talk you do
hear from men, and they after being a great
while on the back hills.
NORA, putting the money on the table.

It's a bad night, and a wild night, Michael
Dara, and isn't it a great while I am at the foot
of the back hills, sitting up here boiling food for
himself, and food for the brood sow, and baking
a cake when the night falls ? (She puts up the
102
money listlessly in little piles on the table.) Isn't
it a long while I am sitting here in the winter
and the summer, and the fine spring, with the
young growing behind me and the old passing,
saying to myself one time to look on Mary
Brien, who wasn't that height (holding out her
hand), and I a fine girl growing up, and there she
is now with two children, and another coming
on her in three months or four. (She pauses.)
MICHAEL, moving over three ofthe piles.
That's three pounds we have now, Nora Burke.
NORA, continuing in the same voice.
And saying to myself another time, to look on
Peggy Cavanagh, who had the lightest hand at
milking a cow that wouldn't be easy, or turning
a cake, and there she is now walking round on
the roads, or sitting in a dirty old house, with no
teeth in her mouth, and no sense, and no more
hair than you'd see on a bit of hill and they
after burning the furze from it.
MICHAEL.
That's five pounds and ten notes, a good sum,

surely ! •
It's not that way you'll be

talking when you marry a young man, Nora
Burke, and they were saying in the fair my
103
lambs were the best lambs, and I got a grand
price, for I'm no fool now at making a bargain
when my lambs are good.
NORA.
What was it you got ?

MICHAEL.
Twenty pounds for the lot, Nora Burke. ...
We'd do right to wait now till himself will be

quiet awhile in the Seven Churches, and then
you'll marry me in the chapel of Rathvanna, and
I'll bring the sheep up on the bit of a hill you
have on the back mountain, and we won't have
anything we'd be afeard to let our minds on
when the mist is down.
NORA, pouring him out some whisky.

Why would I marry you, Mike Dara ? You'll
be getting old and I'll be getting old, and in a
little while, I'm telling you, you'll be sitting up
in your bed-the way himself was sitting-
with a shake in your face, and your teeth falling,
and the white hair sticking out round you like
an old bush where sheep do be leaping a gap.
(Dan Burke sits up noiselesslyfrom under the sheet,
with his hand to his face. His white hair is
sticking out round his head. Nora goes on slowly
without hearing him.) It's a pitiful thing to
104
be getting old, but it's a queer thing surely.
It's a queer thing to see an old man sitting
up there in his bed with no teeth in him,
and a rough word in his mouth, and his chin
the way it would take the bark from the
edge of an oak board you'd have building
a door. God forgive me, Michael
Dara, we'll all be getting old, but it's a queer
thing surely.
MICHAEL.
It's too lonesome you are from living a long time

with an old man, Nora, and you're talking again
like a herd that would be coming down from
the thick mist (he puts his arm round her), but it's
a fine life you'll have now with a young man-
a fine life surely.
Dan sneezes violently. Michael tries to get to the
door, but before he can do so Dan jumps out of the
bed in queer white clothes, with the stick in his
hand, and goes over and puts his back against it.
MICHAEL.
Son of God deliver us !

Crosses himself, and goes backward across the
room.
DAN, holding up his hand at him.

Now you'll not marry her the time I'm rotting
105
below in the Seven Churches, and you'll see the
thing I'll give you will follow you on the back
mountains when the wind is high.
MICHAEL, to Nora.
Get me out of it, Nora, for the love of God.
He always did what you bid him, and I'm
thinking he would do it now.
NORA, looking at the tramp.
Is it dead he is or living ?
DAN, turning towards her.
It's little you care if it's dead or living I am ;
but there'll be an end now of your fine times,
and all the talk you have of young men and old
men, and of the mist coming up or going down.
(He opens the door.) You'll walk out now from
that door, Nora Burke ; and it's not to-morrow,
or the next day, or any day of your life, that
you'll put in your foot through it again.
TRAMP, standing up.
It's a hard thing you're saying for an old man,
master of the house ; and what would the like of
her do if you put her out on the roads ?
DAN.
Let her walk round the like of Peggy Cavanagh

106
below, and be begging money at the cross-roads,
or selling songs to the men. (To Nora.) Walk
out now, Nora Burke, and it's soon you'll be
getting old with that life, I'm telling you ; it's
soon your teeth'll be falling and your head'll be
the like of a bush where sheep do be leaping
a gap. (He pauses ; Nora looks round at Michael.)
MICHAEL, timidly.
There's a fine Union below in Rathdrum.
DAN.
The like of her would never go there.

It's lonesome roads she'll be going and hiding
herself away till the end will come, and they
find her stretched like a dead sheep with the
frost on her, or the big spiders maybe, and they
putting their webs on her, in the butt of a ditch.
NORA, angrily.
What way will yourself be that day, Daniel
Burke ? What way will you be that day and
you lying down a long while in your grave ?
For it's bad you are living, and it's bad you'll be
when you're dead. (She looks at him a moment
fiercely, then half turns away and speaks plain-
tively again.) Yet, ifit is itself, Daniel Burke,
who can help it at all, and let you be getting up
107
into your bed, and not be taking your death
with the wind blowing on you, and the rain
with it, and you half in your skin .
DAN.
It's proud and happy you'd be if I was getting

my death the day I was shut of yourself.
(Pointing to the door.) Let you walk out through
that door, I'm telling you, and let you not be
passing this way if it's hungry you are, or
wanting a bed.
TRAMP, pointing to Michael.
Maybe himself would take her.
NORA .
What would he do with me now ?
TRAMP.
Give you the half of a dry bed, and good food

in your mouth.
DAN.
Is it a fool you think him, stranger, or is it a

fool you were born yourself? Let her walk
out of that door, and let you go along with her,
stranger-if it's raining itself-for it's too much
talk you have surely.
108
TRAMP, going over to Nora.
We'll be going now, lady of the house ; the
rain is falling, but the air is kind, and
maybe it'll be a grand morning, by the grace
ofGod.
NORA .
What good is a grand morning when I'm des-

troyed surely, and I going out to get my death
walking the roads ?
TRAMP .
You'll not be getting your death with myself,

lady of the house, and I knowing all the ways
a man can put food in his mouth.
We'll be going now, I'm telling you, and the
time you'll be feeling the cold, and the frost,
and the great rain, and the sun again, and
the south wind blowing in the glens, you'll
not be sitting up on a wet ditch, the way
you're after sitting in this place, making
yourself old with looking on each day, and
it passing you by. You'll be saying one time,
" It's a grand evening, by the grace of God,"
and another time, " It's a wild night, God
help us ; but it'll pass, surely. " You'll he
saying
109
DAN, goes over to them, crying out impatiently.
Go out of that door, I'm telling you, and do
your blathering below in the glen.
Nora gathers a few things into her shawl.
TRAMP, at the door.

Come along with me now, lady of the house,
and it's not my blather you'll be hearing only,
but you'll be hearing the herons crying out over
the black lakes, and you'll be hearing the grouse
and the owls with them, and the larks and the
big thrushes when the days are warm ; and it's
not from the like of them you'll be hearing a
tale of getting old like Peggy Cavanagh, and
losing the hair off you, and the light of your
eyes, but it's fine songs you'll be hearing when
the sun goes up, and there'll be no old fellow
wheezing, the like of a sick sheep, close to
your ear.
NORA .
I'm thinking it's myself will be wheezing that

time with lying down under the heavens when
the night is cold; but you've a fine bit of talk,
stranger, and it's with yourselfI'll go. (She goes
towards the door, then turns to Dan.) You think
it's a grand thing you're after doing with your
ΙΙΟ
letting on to be dead, but what is it at all ?
What way would a woman live in a lonesome
place the like of this place, and she not making
a talk with the men passing ? And what way
will yourself live from this day, with none to
care for you ? What is it you'll have now but
a black life, Daniel Burke ; and it's not long,
I'm telling you, till you'll be lying again under
that sheet, and you dead surely.
She goes out with the tramp. Michael is
slinking after them, but Dan stops him.
DAN.
Sit down now and take a little taste ofthe stuff,

Michael Dara. There's a great drouth on me,
and the night is young.
MICHAEL, coming back to the table.
And it's very dry I am, surely, with the fear of
death you put on me, and I after driving moun-
tain ewes since the turn of the day.
DAN, throwing away his stick.

Iwas thinking to strike you, Michael Dara ; but
you're a quiet man, God help you, and I don't
mind you at all. (He pours out two glasses of
LLL
whisky, and gives one to Michael.) Your good
health, Michael Dara.
MICHAEL .
God reward you, Daniel Burke, and may you

have a long life and a quiet life, and good health
with it. (They drink.)
CURTAIN,
112
THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN was first performed
in the Molesworth Hall, Dublin, on October
8th, 1903, with the following cast :
DAN BURKE George Roberts
NORA BURKE Maire Nic Shiubhlaigh
MICHAEL DARA P. J. Kelly
A TRAMP W. G. Fay
RIDERS TO THE SEA was first performed in the

Molesworth Hall, Dublin, on February 25th,
1904, with the following cast :
MAURYA Honor Lavelle
BARTLEY W. G. Fay
CATHLEEN Sara Allgood
NORA Emma Vernon
MEN AND WOMEN
1
PRESS OPINIONS ON THE COLLECTED
EDITION OF J. M. SYNGE'S WORKS
"J. M. Synge is, perhaps, the one of the few authors of this
generationofwhom it may be confidently urged that his work
will live ; forhe accomplished in play-writing something which
hadnot been accomplished for centuries. In saying this one does
not mean that Synge was a Shakespeare ; his range was too
narrow, and his production too small to entitle him to so high
a comparison. But he is in the legitimate succession, and there
is a long and weary interval behind him. • •It was in
this quality of imagination that Synge excelled, and it was that
which enabledhim to give to the little corner of life depicted in
his peasant plays a universality of significance that lifts them
into the ranks of the great literature.
-The Times Literary Supplement.
66
ThePlayboy of the Western World is a dramatic
satire ofthe most penetrative keenness ; it flashes with surprises
andholds unsuspected exposures waiting for us to the very close
ofits last act of the place which these writings now
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portance. Synge saw deeper than others not into the
motives, but into the significance of men and things ; that, we
He is an
think, is the peculiar quality ofhis genius.
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and this he does by convincing us that his emotions are felt for
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been brushed away. Nature he rids of meretricious glamour
and sham romance. Man and the universe confront each other
without asingle barrier of unreality between them. Onlywhat
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but the essential dignity of man and the awfulness of nature.
If Synge is always in touch with the earth, he touches it with
wings ; and surely the earth beneath him is a mountain top....
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THE ARAN ISLANDS. By J. M. SYNGE .
With Drawings by JACK B. YEATS. Large
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" It is in his book on the Aran Islands, and in the slighter
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In these two volumes as in the plays, suggestion takes the place
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LIFE IN THE WEST OF IRELAND .

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of the West of Ireland."-Daily News and Leader.
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passed, if it is indeed equalled, by any other artist living in
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‫אם הספר הזה לא יושב עד היום הנזכר למטה‪ ,‬השואל‬
‫‪ 2‬מיל ליום מלבד שבתות‪.‬‬
‫לכשגמרת לקרא את הספר הזה‪ ,‬השיבהו מיד לבית־‬

‫הספרים ‪ ,‬כי מישהו מצפה לספר בכדי לקרא בו‪.‬‬
‫להחזיר ביום ‪:‬‬
‫תאריך‬ ‫תאריך‬ ‫תאריך‬ ‫תאריך‬

‫הספריה הלאומית‬
28 C 7711
Synge, John Millington ,
The tinker's wedding ; Riders to the
3191118-10

Riders To The Sea

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This is a reproduction of a library book that was digitized

by Google as part of an ongoing effort to preserve the

MAUNSEL AND COMPANY LTD.

Reprinted ( Pocket Edition) September 1911

Copyright. 1904. J. M. Synge

‫בית הספרים הלאמי‬

THE TINKER'S WEDDING

RIDERS TO THE SEA

THE SHADOW OF THE GLEN 81

‫בית הספרים הל‬

THE drama is made serious in the French

the best plays of Ben Jonson and Molière can

MICHAEL BYRNE, a tinker

SCENE-A village road-side after nightfall.

A village roadside after nightfall. A fire of

Apoor way only, Sarah Casey, for it's the divil's

SARAH, sitting down beside him and throwing

MICHAEL, slowly and glumly.

It's hard set you'd be to think queerer than

MICHAEL, with dismay.

The like of that, Michael Byrne, when there is

MICHAEL, looks at her for a moment with

MICHAEL, looking at it carefully.

MICHAEL, moodily, working again.

MICHAEL, defiantly, raising his voice.

SARAH, kicking up the ashes with herfoot.

MICHAEL, with contempt.

God help the lot of them.

It's yourself you'll be calling God to help, in

Whisht. I hear some one coming the road.

It's often his reverence does be in there playing

It's a big boast of a man with a long step on him

MICHAEL, going to her and giving her the ring.

SARAH, tidying herself, in great excitement.

MICHAEL, moodily, sitting down and beginning

Great love, surely.

SARAH, in a very plausible voice.

The Lord have mercy on us ! What kind of a

It's Sarah Casey I am, your reverence, the

A holy pair, surely ! Let you get out of my

SARAH, keeping infront of him.

I haven't a halfpenny at all. Leave the road,

It isn't a halfpenny we're asking, holy father ;

PRIEST, with astonishment.

It is, your reverence ; and we were thinking

Where would the like of us get a pound, your

Wouldn't you easy get it with your selling

SARAH, pleadingly, taking money from her

If it's ten shillings you have, let you get ten

In a short space only, your reverence, for I'm

Let you get a crown along with the ten shillings

Whisht, now, the two of you. There's my

Give me the jug now, or you'll have it spilt in

Let you leave me easy, Sarah Casey. I won't

SARAH, looking into thejug.

God save your reverence. I'm after bringing

PRIEST, waving her away.

She breaks off.

SARAH, putting her down, to the priest, half