Short Plays

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 of glasses on the table, and a bottle of whisky, as if for a wake, with two cups, a teapot, and a homemade 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. Someone knocks softly at the door. She takes up a stocking with money from 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.

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 if you’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 I am now with a hundred sheep beyond on the hills, and no turf drawn for the winter.

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 his feet 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 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?

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 noiselessly from 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 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, Micheal Dara, we’ll all be getting old, but it’s a queer thing surely.

Micheal

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. Micheal tries to get to the door, but before he can do so, Dan jumps out of the bed in queer white clothes, with his stick in his hand, and goes over and puts his back against it.

Maurya

Speaking very slowly. I’ve seen the fearfulest thing any person has seen, since the day Bride Dara seen the dead man with the child in his arms.

Cathleen and Nora

Uah.

They crouch down in front of the old woman at the fire.

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 of God 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 of God.

Maurya

A little defiantly. I’m after seeing him this day, and he riding and galloping. Bartley came first on the red mare; and I tried to say “God speed you,” but something 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.

In the background, on the left, a sort of tent and ragged clothes drying on the hedge. 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 tonight.

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 at all?

Michael

A poor 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 the fire. 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 of your 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 off with your talk of getting married, and your driving me to it, and I not asking it at all.