But you are in my house. Whatever man
Would fight with you shall fight it out with me.
They’re dumb, they’re dumb. How many of you would meet
[_Draws sword._
This mutterer, this old whistler, this sandpiper,
This edge that’s greyer than the tide, this mouse
That’s gnawing at the timbers of the world,
This, this—— Boy, I would meet them all in arms
If I’d a son like you. He would avenge me
When I have withstood for the last time the men
Whose fathers, brothers, sons, and friends I have killed
Upholding Conchubar, when the four provinces
Have gathered with the ravens over them.
But I’d need no avenger. You and I
Would scatter them like water from a dish.
YOUNG MAN.
We’ll stand by one another from this out.
Here is the ring.
CUCHULAIN.
No, turn and turn about.
But my turn’s first because I am the older.
[_Spreading out cloak._
Nine queens out of the Country-under-Wave
Have woven it with the fleeces of the sea
And they were long embroidering at it.—Boy,
If I had fought my father, he’d have killed me.
As certainly as if I had a son
And fought with him, I should be deadly to him;
For the old fiery fountains are far off
And every day there is less heat o’ the blood.
CONCHUBAR.
[_In a loud voice._]
No more of this. I will not have this friendship.
Cuchulain is my man, and I forbid it.
He shall not go unfought, for I myself—
CUCHULAIN.
I will not have it.
CONCHUBAR.
You lay commands on me?
CUCHULAIN.
[_Seizing CONCHUBAR._]
You shall not stir, High King. I’ll hold you there.
CONCHUBAR.
Witchcraft has maddened you.
THE KINGS [_shouting_].
Yes, witchcraft! witchcraft!
FIRST OLD KING.
Some witch has worked upon your mind, Cuchulain.
The head of that young man seemed like a woman’s
You’d had a fancy for. Then of a sudden
You laid your hands on the High King himself!
CUCHULAIN.
And laid my hands on the High King himself?
CONCHUBAR.
Some witch is floating in the air above us.
CUCHULAIN.
Yes, witchcraft, witchcraft! Witches of the air! [_To YOUNG MAN._
Why did you? Who was it set you to this work?
Out, out! I say, for now it’s sword on sword!
YOUNG MAN.
But ... but I did not.
CUCHULAIN.
Out, I say, out, out!
[_YOUNG MAN goes out followed by CUCHULAIN. The KINGS
follow them out with confused cries, and words one can
hardly hear because of the noise. Some cry, ‘_Quicker,
quicker!_’ ‘_Why are you so long at the door?_’ ‘_We’ll
be too late!_’ ‘_Have they begun to fight?_’ and so on;
and one, it may be, ‘_I saw him fight with Ferdia!_’
Their voices drown each other. The three women are left
alone._
FIRST WOMAN.
I have seen, I have seen!
SECOND WOMAN.
What do you cry aloud?
FIRST WOMAN.
The ever-living have shown me what’s to come.
THIRD WOMAN.
How? Where?
FIRST WOMAN.
In the ashes of the bowl.
SECOND WOMAN.
While you were holding it between your hands?
THIRD WOMAN.
Speak quickly!
FIRST WOMAN.
I have seen Cuchulain’s roof-tree
Leap into fire, and the walls split and blacken.
SECOND WOMAN.
Cuchulain has gone out to die.
THIRD WOMAN.
O! O!
SECOND WOMAN.
Who could have thought that one so great as he
Should meet his end at this unnoted sword!
FIRST WOMAN.
Life drifts between a fool and a blind man
To the end, and nobody can know his end.
SECOND WOMAN.
Come, look upon the quenching of this greatness.
[_The other two go to the door, but they stop for a
moment upon the threshold and wail._
FIRST WOMAN.
No crying out, for there’ll be need of cries
And knocking at the breast when it’s all finished.
[_The WOMEN go out. There is a sound of clashing swords
from time to time during what follows._
[_Enter the FOOL dragging the BLIND MAN._
FOOL.
You have eaten it, you have eaten it! You have left me nothing but the
bones.
[_He throws BLIND MAN down by big chair._
BLIND MAN.
O, that I should have to endure such a plague! O, I ache all over! O,
I am pulled to pieces! This is the way you pay me all the good I have
done you!
FOOL.
You have eaten it! You have told me lies. I might have known you had
eaten it when I saw your slow, sleepy walk. Lie there till the kings
come. O, I will tell Conchubar and Cuchulain and all the kings about
you!
BLIND MAN.
What would have happened to you but for me, and you without your wits?
If I did not take care of you, what would you do for food and warmth?
FOOL.
You take care of me! You stay safe, and send me into every kind of
danger. You sent me down the cliff for gulls’ eggs while you warmed
your blind eyes in the sun; and then you ate all that were good for
food. You left me the eggs that were neither egg nor bird. [_BLIND MAN
tries to rise; FOOL makes him lie down again._] Keep quiet now, till
I shut the door. There is some noise outside—a high vexing noise,
so that I can’t be listening to myself. [_Shuts the big door._] Why
can’t they be quiet! why can’t they be quiet! [_BLIND MAN tries to get
away._] Ah! you would get away, would you! [_Follows BLIND MAN and
brings him back._] Lie there! lie there! No, you won’t get away! Lie
there till the kings come. I’ll tell them all about you. I will tell it
all. How you sit warming yourself, when you have made me light a fire
of sticks, while I sit blowing it with my mouth. Do you not always make
me take the windy side of the bush when it blows, and the rainy side
when it rains?
BLIND MAN.
Oh, good Fool! listen to me. Think of the care I have taken of you. I
have brought you to many a warm hearth, where there was a good welcome
for you, but you would not stay there; you were always wandering about.
FOOL.
The last time you brought me in it was not I who wandered away, but
you that got put out because you took the crubeen out of the pot when
nobody was looking. Keep quiet, now!
CUCHULAIN [_rushing in_].
Witchcraft! There is no witchcraft on the earth, or among the witches
of the air, that these hands cannot break.
FOOL.
Listen to me, Cuchulain. I left him turning the fowl at the fire. He
ate it all, though I had stolen it. He left me nothing but the feathers.
CUCHULAIN.
Fill me a horn of ale!
BLIND MAN.
I gave him what he likes best. You do not know how vain this fool is.
He likes nothing so well as a feather.
FOOL.
He left me nothing but the bones and feathers. Nothing but the
feathers, though I had stolen it.
CUCHULAIN.
Give me that horn! Quarrels here, too! [_Drinks._] What is there
between you two that is worth a quarrel? Out with it!
BLIND MAN.
Where would he be but for me? I must be always thinking—thinking to get
food for the two of us, and when we’ve got it, if the moon is at the
full or the tide on the turn, he’ll leave the rabbit in the snare till
it is full of maggots, or let the trout slip back through his hands
into the stream.
[_The FOOL has begun singing while the BLIND MAN is
speaking._
FOOL [_singing_].
When you were an acorn on the tree-top,
Then was I an eagle cock;
Now that you are a withered old block,
Still am I an eagle cock.
BLIND MAN.
Listen to him, now. That’s the sort of talk I have to put up with day
out, day in.
[_The FOOL is putting the feathers into his hair.
CUCHULAIN takes a handful of feathers out of a heap the
FOOL has on the bench beside him, and out of the FOOL’S
hair, and begins to wipe the blood from his sword with
them._
FOOL.
He has taken my feathers to wipe his sword. It is blood that he is
wiping from his sword.
CUCHULAIN.
[_Goes up to door at back and throws away feathers._]
They are standing about his body. They will not awaken him, for all his
witchcraft.
BLIND MAN.
It is that young champion that he has killed. He that came out of
Aoife’s country.
CUCHULAIN.
He thought to have saved himself with witchcraft.
FOOL.
That blind man there said he would kill you. He came from Aoife’s
country to kill you. That blind man said they had taught him every kind
of weapon that he might do it. But I always knew that you would kill
him.
CUCHULAIN [_to the BLIND MAN_].
You knew him, then?
BLIND MAN.
I saw him, when I had my eyes, in Aoife’s country.
CUCHULAIN.
You were in Aoife’s country?
BLIND MAN.
I knew him and his mother there.
CUCHULAIN.
He was about to speak of her when he died.
BLIND MAN.
He was a queen’s son.
CUCHULAIN.
What queen? what queen? [_Seizes BLIND MAN, who is now sitting upon the
bench._] Was it Scathach? There were many queens. All the rulers there
were queens.
BLIND MAN.
No, not Scathach.
CUCHULAIN.
It was Uathach, then? Speak! speak!
BLIND MAN.
I cannot speak; you are clutching me too tightly. [_CUCHULAIN lets him
go._] I cannot remember who it was. I am not certain. It was some queen.
FOOL.
He said a while ago that the young man was Aoife’s son.
CUCHULAIN.
She? No, no! She had no son when I was there.
FOOL.
That blind man there said that she owned him for her son.
CUCHULAIN.
I had rather he had been some other woman’s son. What father had he? A
soldier out of Alba? She was an amorous woman—a proud, pale, amorous
woman.
BLIND MAN.
None knew whose son he was.
CUCHULAIN.
None knew! Did you know, old listener at doors?
BLIND MAN.
No, no; I knew nothing.
FOOL.
He said awhile ago that he heard Aoife boast that she’d never but the
one lover, and he the only man that had overcome her in battle.
[_Pause._
BLIND MAN.
Somebody is trembling, Fool! The bench is shaking. Why are you
trembling? Is Cuchulain going to hurt us? It was not I who told you,
Cuchulain.
FOOL.
It is Cuchulain who is trembling. It is Cuchulain who is shaking the
bench.
BLIND MAN.
It is his own son he has slain.
CUCHULAIN.
’Twas they that did it, the pale, windy people.
Where? where? where? My sword against the thunder!
But no, for they have always been my friends;
And though they love to blow a smoking coal
Till it’s all flame, the wars they blow aflame
Are full of glory, and heart-uplifting pride,
And not like this. The wars they love awaken
Old fingers and the sleepy strings of harps.
Who did it, then? Are you afraid? Speak out!
For I have put you under my protection,
And will reward you well. Dubthach the Chafer?
He’d an old grudge. No, for he is with Maeve.
Laegaire did it! Why do you not speak?
What is this house? [_Pause._] Now I remember all.
[_Comes before CONCHUBAR’S chair, and strikes out with
his sword, as if CONCHUBAR was sitting upon it._
’Twas you who did it—you who sat up there
With your old rod of kingship, like a magpie
Nursing a stolen spoon. No, not a magpie,
A maggot that is eating up the earth!
Yes, but a magpie, for he’s flown away.
Where did he fly to?
BLIND MAN.
He is outside the door.
CUCHULAIN.
Outside the door?
BLIND MAN.
Between the door and the sea.
CUCHULAIN.
Conchubar, Conchubar! the sword into your heart!
[_He rushes out. Pause. FOOL creeps up to the big door
and looks after him._
FOOL.
He is going up to King Conchubar. They are all about the young man. No,
no, he is standing still. There is a great wave going to break, and
he is looking at it. Ah! now he is running down to the sea, but he is
holding up his sword as if he were going into a fight. [_Pause._] Well
struck! well struck!
BLIND MAN.
What is he doing now?
FOOL.
O! he is fighting the waves!
BLIND MAN.
He sees King Conchubar’s crown on every one of them.
FOOL.
There, he has struck at a big one! He has struck the crown off it; he
has made the foam fly. There again, another big one!
BLIND MAN.
Where are the kings? What are the kings doing?
FOOL.
They are shouting and running down to the shore, and the people are
running out of the houses. They are all running.
BLIND MAN.
You say they are running out of the houses? There will be nobody left
in the houses. Listen, Fool!
FOOL.
There, he is down! He is up again. He is going out into the deep water.
There is a big wave. It has gone over him. I cannot see him now. He has
killed kings and giants, but the waves have mastered him, the waves
have mastered him!
BLIND MAN.
Come here, Fool!
FOOL.
The waves have mastered him.
BLIND MAN.
Come here!
FOOL.
The waves have mastered him.
BLIND MAN.
Come here, I say!
FOOL.
[_Coming towards him, but looking backward towards the
door._]
What is it?
BLIND MAN.
There will be nobody in the houses. Come this way; come quickly! The
ovens will be full. We will put our hands into the ovens.
[_They go out._
DEIRDRE
TO ROBERT GREGORY
WHO INVENTED FOR THIS PLAY BEAUTIFUL COSTUMES
AND A BEAUTIFUL SCENE
_PERSONS IN THE PLAY_
MUSICIANS
FERGUS, _an old man_
NAISI, _a young king_
DEIRDRE, _his queen_
A DARK-FACED MESSENGER
CONCHUBAR, _the old King of Uladh, who is still strong and vigorous_
DARK-FACED EXECUTIONER
DEIRDRE
_A Guest-house in a wood. It is a rough house of
timber; through the doors and some of the windows one
can see the great spaces of the wood, the sky dimming,
night closing in. But a window to the left shows the
thick leaves of a coppice; the landscape suggests
silence and loneliness. There is a door to right and
left, and through the side windows one can see anybody
who approaches either door, a moment before he enters.
In the centre, a part of the house is curtained off;
the curtains are drawn. There are unlighted torches in
brackets on the walls. There is, at one side, a small
table with a chessboard and chessmen upon it, and a
wine flagon and loaf of bread. At the other side of
the room there is a brazier with a fire; two women,
with musical instruments beside them, crouch about
the brazier: they are comely women of about forty.
Another woman, who carries a stringed instrument,
enters hurriedly; she speaks, at first standing in the
doorway._
FIRST MUSICIAN.
I HAVE a story right, my wanderers,
That has so mixed with fable in our songs,
That all seemed fabulous. We are come, by chance,
Into King Conchubar’s country, and this house
Is an old guest-house built for travellers
From the seashore to Conchubar’s royal house,
And there are certain hills among these woods,
And there Queen Deirdre grew.
SECOND MUSICIAN.
That famous queen
Who has been wandering with her lover, Naisi,
And none to friend but lovers and wild hearts?
FIRST MUSICIAN.
[_Going nearer to the brazier._]
Some dozen years ago, King Conchubar found
A house upon a hillside in this wood,
And there a comely child with an old witch
To nurse her, and there’s nobody can say
If she were human, or of those begot
By an invisible king of the air in a storm
On a king’s daughter, or anything at all
Of who she was or why she was hidden there
But that she’d too much beauty for good luck.
He went up thither daily, till at last
She put on womanhood, and he lost peace,
And Deirdre’s tale began. The King was old.
A month or so before the marriage day,
A young man, in the laughing scorn of his youth,
Naisi, the son of Usnach, climbed up there,
And having wooed, or, as some say, been wooed,
Carried her off.
SECOND MUSICIAN.
The tale were well enough
Had it a finish.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
Hush! I have more to tell;
But gather close that I may whisper it:
I speak of terrible, mysterious ends—
The secrets of a king.
SECOND MUSICIAN.
There’s none to hear!
FIRST MUSICIAN.
I have been to Conchubar’s house, and followed up
A crowd of servants going out and in
With loads upon their heads: embroideries
To hang upon the walls, or new-mown rushes
To strew upon the floors, and came at length
To a great room.
SECOND MUSICIAN.
Be silent; there are steps!
[_Enter FERGUS, an old man, who moves about from door
to window excitedly through what follows._
FERGUS.
You are musicians by these instruments,
And if as seems—for you are comely women—
You can praise love, you’ll have the best of luck,
For there’ll be two, before the night is in,
That bargained for their love, and paid for it
All that men value. You have but the time
To weigh a happy music with the sad;
To find what is most pleasing to a lover,
Before the son of Usnach and his queen
Have passed this threshold.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
Deirdre and her man!
FERGUS.
I thought to find a message from the king,
And ran to meet it. Is there no messenger
From Conchubar to Fergus, son of Rogh?
I was to have found a message in this house.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
Are Deirdre and her lover tired of life?
FERGUS.
You are not of this country, or you’d know
That they are in my charge, and all forgiven.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
We have no country but the roads of the world.
FERGUS.
Then you should know that all things change in the world,
And hatred turns to love and love to hate,
And even kings forgive.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
An old man’s love
Who casts no second line, is hard to cure;
His jealousy is like his love.
FERGUS.
And that’s but true.
You have learned something in your wanderings.
He was so hard to cure, that the whole court,
But I alone, thought it impossible;
Yet after I had urged it at all seasons,
I had my way, and all’s forgiven now;
And you shall speak the welcome and the joy
That I lack tongue for.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
Yet old men are jealous.
FERGUS [_going to door_].
I am Conchubar’s near friend, and that weighed somewhat,
And it was policy to pardon them.
The need of some young, famous, popular man
To lead the troops, the murmur of the crowd,
And his own natural impulse, urged him to it.
They have been wandering half-a-dozen years.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
And yet old men are jealous.
FERGUS [_coming from door_].
Sing the more sweetly
Because, though age is arid as a bone,
This man has flowered. I’ve need of music, too;
If this gray head would suffer no reproach,
I’d dance and sing—and dance till the hour ran out,
Because I have accomplished this good deed.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
Look there—there at the window, those dark men,
With murderous and outlandish-looking arms—
They’ve been about the house all day.
[_Dark-faced MEN with strange barbaric dress and arms
pass by the doors and windows. They pass one by one and
in silence._
FERGUS [_looking after them_].
What are you?
Where do you come from, who is it sent you here?
FIRST MUSICIAN.
They will not answer you.
FERGUS.
They do not hear.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
Forgive my open speech, but to these eyes
That have seen many lands, they are such men
As kings will gather for a murderous task,
That neither bribes, commands, nor promises
Can bring their people to.
FERGUS.
And that is why
You harped upon an old man’s jealousy.
A trifle sets you quaking. Conchubar’s fame
Brings merchandise on every wind that blows.
They may have brought him Libyan dragon-skin,
Or the ivory of the fierce unicorn.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
If these be merchants, I have seen the goods
They have brought to Conchubar, and understood
His murderous purpose.
FERGUS.
Murderous, you say?
Why, what new gossip of the roads is this?
But I’ll not hear.
FIRST MUSICIAN.
It may be life or death.
There is a room in Conchubar’s house, and there—
FERGUS.
Be silent, or I’ll drive you from the door.
There’s many a one that would do more than that,
And make it prison, or death, or banishment
To slander the High King.
[_Suddenly restraining himself and speaking gently._
He is my friend;
I have his oath, and I am well content.
I have known his mind as if it were my own
These many years, and there is none alive
Shall buzz against him, and I there to stop it.
I know myself, and him, and your wild thought
Fed on extravagant poetry, and lit
By such a dazzle of old fabulous tales
That common things are lost, and all that’s strange
Is true because ’twere pity if it were not.
[_Going to the door again._
Quick! quick! your instruments! they are coming now.
I hear the hoofs a-clatter. Begin that song;
But what is it to be? I’d have them hear
A music foaming up out of the house
Like wine out of a cup. Come now, a verse
Of some old time not worth remembering,
And all the lovelier because a bubble.
Begin, begin, of some old king and queen,
Of Lugaidh Redstripe or another; no, not him,
He and his lady perished wretchedly.
FIRST MUSICIAN [_singing_].
‘Why is it,’ Queen Edain said,
‘If I do but climb the stair....’
FERGUS.
Ah! that is better.... They are alighted now.
Shake all your cockscombs, children; these are lovers.
[_FERGUS goes out._
FIRST MUSICIAN.
‘Why is it,’ Queen Edain said,
‘If I do but climb the stair
To the tower overhead,
When the winds are calling there,
Or the gannets calling out,
In waste places of the sky,
There’s so much to think about,
That I cry, that I cry?’
SECOND MUSICIAN.
But her goodman answered her:
‘Love would be a thing of naught
Had not all his limbs a stir
Born out of immoderate thought;
Were he anything by half,
Were his measure running dry.
Lovers, if they may not laugh,
Have to cry, have to cry.’
[_DEIRDRE, NAISI, and FERGUS have been seen for a
moment through the windows, but now they have entered.
NAISI lays down shield and spear and helmet, as if
weary. He goes to the door opposite to the door he
entered by. He looks out on to the road that leads to
CONCHUBAR’S house. If he is anxious, he would not have
FERGUS or DEIRDRE notice it. Presently he comes from
the door, and goes to the table where the chessboard
is._
THE THREE MUSICIANS [_together_].
But is Edain worth a song
Now the hunt begins anew?
Praise the beautiful and strong;
Praise the redness of the yew;
Praise the blossoming apple-stem.
But our silence had been wise.
What is all our praise to them,
That have one another’s eyes?
FERGUS.
You are welcome, lady.
DEIRDRE.
Conchubar has not come.
Were the peace honest, he’d have come himself
To prove it so.
FERGUS.
Being no more in love,
He stays in his own house, arranging where
The curlew and the plover go, and where
The speckled heath-cock in a golden dish.
DEIRDRE.
But there’s no messenger.
FERGUS.
He’ll come himself
When all’s in readiness and night closed in;
But till that hour, these birds out of the waste
Shall put his heart and mind into the music.
There’s many a day that I have almost wept
To think that one so delicately made
Might never know the sweet and natural life
Of women born to that magnificence,
Quiet and music, courtesy and peace.
DEIRDRE.
I have found life obscure and violent,
And think it ever so; but none the less
I thank you for your kindness, and thank these
That put it into music.
FERGUS.
Your house has been
The hole of the badger or the den of the fox;
But all that’s finished, and your days will pass
From this day out where life is smooth on the tongue,
Because the grapes were trodden long ago.
NAISI.
If I was childish, and had faith in omens,
I’d rather not have lit on that old chessboard
At my home-coming.
FERGUS.
There’s a tale about it—
It has been lying there these many years—
Some wild old sorrowful tale.
NAISI.
It is the board
Where Lugaidh Redstripe and that wife of his,
Who had a seamew’s body half the year,
Played at the chess upon the night they died.
FERGUS.
I can remember now a tale of treachery,
A broken promise and a journey’s end;
But it were best forgot.
NAISI.
If the tale is true,
When it was plain that they had been betrayed,
They moved the men, and waited for the end,
As it were bedtime, and had so quiet minds
They hardly winked their eyes when the sword flashed.
FERGUS.
She never could have played so, being a woman,
If she had not the cold sea’s blood in her.
DEIRDRE.
I have heard that th’ ever-living warn mankind
By changing clouds, and casual accidents,
Or what seem so.
FERGUS.
If there had been ill luck
In lighting on this chessboard of a sudden,
This flagon that stood on it when we came
Has made all right again, for it should mean
All wrongs forgiven, hospitality
For bitter memory, peace after war,
While that loaf there should add prosperity.
Deirdre will see the world, as it were, new-made,
If she’ll but eat and drink.
NAISI.
The flagon’s dry,
Full of old cobwebs, and the bread is mouldy,
Left by some traveller gone upon his way
These many weeks.
DEIRDRE.
No one to welcome us,
And a bare house upon the journey’s end.
Is that the welcome that a king spreads out
For those that he would honour?
NAISI.
Hush! no more.
You are King Conchubar’s guest, being in his house.
You speak as women do that sit alone,
Marking the ashes with a stick till they
Are in a dreamy terror. Being a queen,
You should have too calm thought to start at shadows.
FERGUS.
Come, let us look if there’s a messenger
From Conchubar’s house. A little way without
One sees the road for half a mile or so,
Where the trees thin or thicken.
NAISI.
When those we love
Speak words unfitting to the ear of kings,
Kind ears are deaf.
FERGUS.
Before you came
I had to threaten these that would have weighed
Some crazy phantasy of their own brain
Or gossip of the road with Conchubar’s word.
If I had thought so little of mankind
I never could have moved him to this pardon.
I have believed the best of every man,
And find that to believe it is enough
To make a bad man show him at his best,
Or even a good man swing his lantern higher.
[_NAISI and FERGUS go out. The last words are spoken as
they go through the door. One can see them through part
of what follows, either through door or window. They
move about, talking or looking along the road towards
CONCHUBAR’S house._
FIRST MUSICIAN.
If anything lies heavy on your heart,
Speak freely of it, knowing it is certain
That you will never see my face again.
DEIRDRE.
You’ve been in love?
FIRST MUSICIAN.