酷兔英语



THE WELL OF THE SAINTS

A Comedy in Three Acts

By J. M. Synge

SCENE Some lonelymountainous district in the east of Ireland one or

more centuries ago.

THE WELL OF THE SAINTS was first produced in the Abbey Theatre in

February, 1905, by the Irish National Theatre Society, under the

direction of W. G. Fay, and with the following cast.

Martin Doul W. G. FAY

Mary Doul EMMA VERNON

Timmy GEORGE ROBERTS

Molly Byrne SARA ALLGOOD

Bride MAIRE NIC SHIUBHLAIGH

Mat Simon P. MAC SHIUBHLAIGH

The Saint F. J. FAY

OTHER GIRLS AND MEN

MARTIN DOUL, weather-beaten, blind beggar

MARY DOUL, his Wife, weather-beaten, ugly woman, blind also, nearly

fifty

TIMMY, a middle-aged, almost elderly, but vigorous smith

MOLLY BYRNE, fine-looking girl with fair hair

BRIDE, another handsome girl

MAT SIMON

THE SAINT, a wandering Friar

OTHER GIRLS AND MEN

THE WELL OF THE SAINTS

ACT I

[Roadside with big stones, etc., on the right; low loose wall at back

with gap near centre; at left, ruined doorway of church with bushes

beside it. Martin Doul and Mary Doul grope in on left and pass over to

stones on right, where they sit.]

MARY DOUL. What place are we now, Martin Doul?

MARTIN DOUL. Passing the gap.

MARY DOUL -- [raising her head.] -- The length of that! Well, the sun's

getting warm this day if it's late autumn itself.

MARTIN DOUL -- [putting out his hands in sun.] -- What way wouldn't

it be warm and it getting high up in the south? You were that length

plaiting your yellow hair you have the morning lost on us, and the

people are after passing to the fair of Clash.

MARY DOUL. It isn't going to the fair, the time they do be driving their

cattle and they with a litter of pigs maybe squealing in their carts,

they'd give us a thing at all. (She sits down.) It's well you know that,

but you must be talking.

MARTIN DOUL -- [sitting down beside her and beginning to shred rushes

she gives him.] -- If I didn't talk I'd be destroyed in a short while

listening to the clack you do be making, for you've a queer cracked

voice, the Lord have mercy on you, if it's fine to look on you are

itself.

MARY DOUL. Who wouldn't have a cracked voice sitting out all the year

in the rain falling? It's a bad life for the voice, Martin Doul, though

I've heard tell there isn't anything like the wet south wind does be

blowing upon us for keeping a white beautiful skin -- the like of my

skin -- on your neck and on your brows, and there isn't anything at all

like a fine skin for putting splendour on a woman.

MARTIN DOUL -- [teasingly, but with good humour.] -- I do be thinking

odd times we don't know rightly what way you have your splendour, or

asking myself, maybe, if you have it at all, for the time I was a young

lad, and had fine sight, it was the ones with sweet voices were the best

in face.

MARY DOUL. Let you not be making the like of that talk when you've heard

Timmy the smith, and Mat Simon, and Patch Ruadh, and a power besides

saying fine things of my face, and you know rightly it was "the

beautiful dark woman" they did call me in Ballinatone.

MARTIN DOUL -- [as before.] -- If it was itself I heard Molly Byrne

saying at the fall of night it was little more than a fright you were.

MARY DOUL -- [sharply.] -- She was jealous, God forgive her, because

Timmy the smith was after praising my hair.

MARTIN DOUL -- [with mock irony.] -- Jealous!

MARY DOUL. Ay, jealous, Martin Doul; and if she wasn't itself, the young

and silly do be always making game of them that's dark, and they'd think

it a fine thing if they had us deceived, the way we wouldn't know we

were so fine-looking at all.

[She puts her hand to her face with a complacent gesture.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [a little plaintively.] -- I do be thinking in the long

nights it'd be a grand thing if we could see ourselves for one hour, or

a minute itself, the way we'd know surely we were the finest man and the

finest woman of the seven counties of the east (bitterly) and then the

seeing rabble below might be destroying their souls telling bad lies,

and we'd never heed a thing they'd say.

MARY DOUL. If you weren't a big fool you wouldn't heed them this hour,

Martin Doul, for they're a bad lot those that have their sight, and they

do have great joy, the time they do be seeing a grand thing, to let on

they don't see it at all, and to be telling fool's lies, the like of

what Molly Byrne was telling to yourself.

MARTIN DOUL. If it's lies she does be telling she's a sweet, beautiful

voice you'd never tire to be hearing, if it was only the pig she'd

be calling, or crying out in the long grass, maybe after her hens.

(Speaking pensively.) It should be a fine, soft, rounded woman, I'm

thinking, would have a voice the like of that.

MARY DOUL -- [sharply again, scandalized.] -- Let you not be minding if

it's flat or rounded she is; for she's a flighty, foolish woman, you'll

hear when you're off a long way, and she making a great noise and

laughing at the well.

MARTIN DOUL. Isn't laughing a nice thing the time a woman's young?

MARY DOUL -- [bitterly.] -- A nice thing is it? A nice thing to hear a

woman making a loud braying laugh the like of that? Ah, she's a great

one for drawing the men, and you'll hear Timmy himself, the time he does

be sitting in his forge, getting mighty fussy if she'll come walking

from Grianan, the way you'll hear his breath going, and he wringing his

hands.

MARTIN DOUL -- [slightly piqued.] -- I've heard him say a power of times

it's nothing at all she is when you see her at the side of you, and yet

I never heard any man's breath getting uneasy the time he'd be looking

on yourself.

MARY DOUL. I'm not the like of the girls do be running round on the

roads, swinging their legs, and they with their necks out looking on the

men.... Ah, there's a power of villainy walking the world, Martin Doul,

among them that do be gadding around with their gaping eyes, and their

sweet words, and they with no sense in them at all.

MARTIN DOUL -- [sadly.] -- It's the truth, maybe, and yet I'm told it's

a grand thing to see a young girl walking the road.

MARY DOUL. You'd be as bad as the rest of them if you had your sight,

and I did well, surely, not to marry a seeing man it's scores would have

had me and welcome -- for the seeing is a queer lot, and you'd never

know the thing they'd do. [A moment's pause.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [listening.] -- There's some one coming on the road.

MARY DOUL. Let you put the pith away out of their sight, or they'll be

picking it out with the spying eyes they have, and saying it's rich we

are, and not sparing us a thing at all.

[They bundle away the rushes. Timmy the smith comes in on left.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [with a begging voice.] -- Leave a bit of silver for

blind Martin, your honour. Leave a bit of silver, or a penny copper

itself, and we'll be praying the Lord to bless you and you going the

way.

TIMMY -- [stopping before them.] -- And you letting on a while back you

knew my step! [He sits down.]

MARTIN -- [with his natural voice.] -- I know it when Molly Byrne's

walking in front, or when she's two perches, maybe, lagging behind; but

it's few times I've heard you walking up the like of that, as if you'd

met a thing wasn't right and you coming on the road.

TIMMY -- [hot and breathless, wiping his face.] -- You've good ears, God

bless you, if you're a liar itself; for I'm after walking up in great

haste from hearing wonders in the fair.

MARTIN DOUL -- [rather contemptuously.] -- You're always hearing queer

wonderful things, and the lot of them nothing at all; but I'm thinking,

this time, it's a strange thing surely you'd be walking up before the

turn of day, and not waiting below to look on them lepping, or dancing,

or playing shows on the green of Clash.

TIMMY -- [huffed.] -- I was coming to tell you it's in this place

there'd be a bigger wonder done in a short while (Martin Doul stops

working) than was ever done on the green of Clash, or the width of

Leinster itself; but you're thinking, maybe, you're too cute a little

fellow to be minding me at all.

MARTIN DOUL -- [amused, but incredulous.] -- There'll be wonders in this

place, is it?

TIMMY. Here at the crossing of the roads.

MARTIN DOUL. I never heard tell of anything to happen in this place

since the night they killed the old fellow going home with his gold, the

Lord have mercy on him, and threw down his corpse into the bog. Let

them not be doing the like of that this night, for it's ourselves have

a right to the crossing roads, and we don't want any of your bad tricks,

or your wonders either, for it's wonder enough we are ourselves.

TIMMY. If I'd a mind I'd be telling you of a real wonder this day, and

the way you'll be having a great joy, maybe, you're not thinking on at

all.

MARTIN DOUL -- [interested.] -- Are they putting up a still behind in

the rocks? It'd be a grand thing if I'd sup handy the way I wouldn't be

destroying myself groping up across the bogs in the rain falling.

TIMMY -- [still moodily.] -- It's not a still they're bringing, or the

like of it either.

MARY DOUL -- [persuasively, to Timmy.] -- Maybe they're hanging a thief,

above at the bit of a tree. I'm told it's a great sight to see a man

hanging by his neck; but what joy would that be to ourselves, and we not

seeing it at all?

TIMMY -- [more pleasantly.] -- They're hanging no one this day, Mary

Doul, and yet, with the help of God, you'll see a power hanged before

you die.

MARY DOUL. Well you've queer hum-bugging talk.... What way would I see a

power hanged, and I a dark woman since the seventh year of my age?

TIMMY. Did ever you hear tell of a place across a bit of the sea, where

there is an island, and the grave of the four beautiful saints?

MARY DOUL. I've heard people have walked round from the west and they

speaking of that.

TIMMY -- [impressively.] -- There's a green ferny well, I'm told, behind

of that place, and if you put a drop of the water out of it on the eyes

of a blind man, you'll make him see as well as any person is walking the

world.

MARTIN DOUL -- [with excitement.] -- Is that the truth, Timmy? I'm

thinking you're telling a lie.

TIMMY -- [gruffly.] -- That's the truth, Martin Doul, and you may

believe it now, for you're after believing a power of things weren't as

likely at all.

MARY DOUL. Maybe we could send us a young lad to bring us the water. I

could wash a naggin bottle in the morning, and I'm thinking Patch Ruadh

would go for it, if we gave him a good drink, and the bit of money we

have hid in the thatch.

TIMMY. It'd be no good to be sending a sinful man the like of ourselves,

for I'm told the holiness of the water does be getting soiled with the

villainy of your heart, the time you'd be carrying it, and you looking

round on the girls, maybe, or drinking a small sup at a still.

MARTIN DOUL -- [with disappointment.] -- It'd be a long terrible way to

be walking ourselves, and I'm thinking that's a wonder will bring small

joy to us at all.

TIMMY -- [turning on him impatiently.] -- What is it you want with

your walking? It's as deaf as blind you're growing if you're not after

hearing me say it's in this place the wonder would be done.

MARTIN DOUL -- [with a flash of anger.] -- If it is can't you open the

big slobbering mouth you have and say what way it'll be done, and not be

making blather till the fall of night.

TIMMY -- [jumping up.] -- I'll be going on now (Mary Doul rises), and

not wasting time talking civil talk with the like of you.

MARY DOUL -- [standing up, disguising her impatience.] -- Let you come

here to me, Timmy, and not be minding him at all. [Timmy stops, and

she gropes up to him and takes him by the coat).] You're not huffy with

myself, and let you tell me the whole story and don't be fooling me

more.... Is it yourself has brought us the water?

TIMMY. It is not, surely.

MARY DOUL. Then tell us your wonder, Timmy.... What person'll bring it

at all?

TIMMY -- [relenting.] -- It's a fine holy man will bring it, a saint of

the Almighty God.

MARY DOUL -- [overawed.] -- A saint is it?

TIMMY. Ay, a fine saint, who's going round through the churches of

Ireland, with a long cloak on him, and naked feet, for he's brought

a sup of the water slung at his side, and, with the like of him, any

little drop is enough to cure the dying, or to make the blind see as

clear as the gray hawks do be high up, on a still day, sailing the sky.

MARTIN DOUL -- [feeling for his stick.] -- What place is he, Timmy? I'll

be walking to him now.

TIMMY. Let you stay quiet, Martin. He's straying around saying prayers

at the churches and high crosses, between this place and the hills, and

he with a great crowd go- ing behind -- for it's fine prayers he does

be saying, and fasting with it, till he's as thin as one of the empty

rushes you have there on your knee; then he'll be coming after to this

place to cure the two of you -- we're after telling him the way you are

-- and to say his prayers in the church.

MARTIN DOUL -- [turning suddenly to Mary Doul.] -- And we'll be seeing

ourselves this day. Oh, glory be to God, is it true surely?

MARY DOUL -- [very pleased, to Timmy.] -- Maybe I'd have time to walk

down and get the big shawl I have below, for I do look my best, I've

heard them say, when I'm dressed up with that thing on my head.

TIMMY. You'd have time surely.

MARTIN DOUL -- [listening.] Whisht now.... I hear people again coming by

the stream.

TIMMY -- [looking out left, puzzled.] -- It's the young girls I left

walking after the Saint.... They're coming now (goes up to entrance)

carrying things in their hands, and they walking as easy as you'd see a

child walk who'd have a dozen eggs hid in her bib.

MARTIN DOUL -- [listening.] -- That's Molly Byrne, I'm thinking.

[Molly Byrne and Bride come on left and cross to Martin Doul, carrying

water-can, Saint's bell, and cloak.]

MOLLY -- [volubly.] -- God bless you, Martin. I've holy water here, from

the grave of the four saints of the west, will have you cured in a short

while and seeing like ourselves.

TIMMY -- [crosses to Molly, interrupting her.] -- He's heard that.

God help you. But where at all is the Saint, and what way is he after

trusting the holy water with the likes of you?

MOLLY BYRNE. He was afeard to go a far way with the clouds is coming

beyond, so he's gone up now through the thick woods to say a prayer at


生词表:
  • lonely [´ləunli] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.孤独的;无人烟的   (初中英语单词)
  • doorway [´dɔ:wei] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.门口   (初中英语单词)
  • beginning [bi´giniŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.开始,开端;起源   (初中英语单词)
  • fright [frait] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.惊吓;恐怖;怪人   (初中英语单词)
  • jealous [´dʒeləs] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.妒忌的   (初中英语单词)
  • forgive [fə´giv] 移动到这儿单词发声  vt.原谅,谅解,宽恕   (初中英语单词)
  • breath [breθ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.呼吸;气息   (初中英语单词)
  • running [´rʌniŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.奔跑的;流动的   (初中英语单词)
  • welcome [´welkəm] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.受欢迎的;可喜的   (初中英语单词)
  • bundle [´bʌndl] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.包,捆;包袱(裹)   (初中英语单词)
  • waiting [´weitiŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.等候;伺候   (初中英语单词)
  • comedy [´kɔmidi] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.喜剧;喜剧场面   (高中英语单词)
  • ireland [´aiələnd] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.爱尔兰   (高中英语单词)
  • vigorous [´vigərəs] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.精力旺盛的;健壮的   (高中英语单词)
  • litter [´litə] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.杂乱 v.乱丢   (高中英语单词)
  • seeing [si:iŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  see的现在分词 n.视觉   (高中英语单词)
  • hearing [´hiəriŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.听力;听证会;审讯   (高中英语单词)
  • mighty [´maiti] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.强有力的 ad.很   (高中英语单词)
  • uneasy [ʌn´i:zi] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.不安的;不自在的   (高中英语单词)
  • saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.言语;言论;格言   (高中英语单词)
  • breathless [´breθlis] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.屏息的   (高中英语单词)
  • hanging [´hæŋiŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的   (高中英语单词)
  • mountainous [´mauntinəs] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.山多的;巨大的   (英语四级单词)
  • elderly [´eldəli] 移动到这儿单词发声  a. 较老的,年长的   (英语四级单词)
  • rightly [´raitli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.正义地;正确地   (英语四级单词)
  • drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.画图;制图;图样   (英语四级单词)
  • corpse [kɔ:ps] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.尸体   (英语四级单词)
  • wasting [´weistiŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.&n.浪费(的)   (英语四级单词)
  • almighty [ɔ:l´maiti] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.万能的;全能的   (英语四级单词)
  • middle-aged [´midl´eidʒid] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.中年的   (英语六级单词)
  • cracked [krækt] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.有裂缝的;碎的;粗哑   (英语六级单词)
  • calling [´kɔ:liŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.点名;职业;欲望   (英语六级单词)
  • holiness [´həulinis] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.神圣   (英语六级单词)

  • 上传人 欢乐鱼 分享于 2017-06-26 17:57:41
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