Collected Plays and Teleplays (Irish Literature) (27 page)

VOICE:
(
In alarm.
) Gob phwat do I see? Phwat do I see. Green Ants with fáinnes on them is goin’ for our lads out there. They’re roarin’ out orders in a foreign language.

SOUTHERN VOICE:
Come on, lads, fight for ye’r lives!

(
Another vast battle is fought, mostly off-stage, but in the circle of light Green Ants reel in death-grips with other Green Ants who wear enormous gold fáinnes. Words and shouts that sound like Irish are heard above the din. When the battle subsides, the fáinne-wearers have won. The commanders gather in the circle of light. A
RICH VOICE
is heard.
)

RICH VOICE:
A dhaoine uaisle agus a chairde Gaedheal! A chairde agus a dhaoine go léir! Tá buaidhte fá dheireadh ag na Gaedhil. Tar éis an chogaidh seo tá an domhan go léir buaidhte aca.

TRAMP:
Whaa? I beg yer pardin?

RICH VOICE:
Ar an ocáid stairiúil seo fógraighim mise féin im Impire ar an domhan go h-uile!

TRAMP:
What’s yer man sayin’ or tryin’ to say?

PETULANT VOICE:
Do you not know your own language, you ignorant man? He is proclaiming our great victory. At this hour he becomes emperor of all the earth. History is at an end. Our glorious destiny is achieved after seventeen hundred years.

TRAMP:
He’s EMPEROR?? Of the EARTH . . . I see.

EGG:
I’m . . . nearly born.

RICH VOICE:
Ní bheidh acht an Ghaeilge amháin á labhairt ar fúd an domhain feasta.

(
TRAMP
has sprung up, kicked the ‘Emperor’ over and grinds him to bits as the others scurry off.
)

TRAMP:
You . . . dirty . . . bloody . . . lousy . . . little bastard of an insect. Ouwathat!

CURTAIN

EPILOGUE

Darkness everywhere. The
TRAMP
,
picked out by a faint light, is lying in the foreground sleeping. He stirs uneasily and speaks in his sleep.

TRAMP:
Take yer hands offa me now—take yer hands off me: What? What’d you say? I beg your pardin? STOP BATIN’ THAT FELLA! Stop killin’ him! Gou-athat! Take yer sting and pump it into somewan else! Keep yer distance or I’ll destroy yeh! D’yeh hear me?

(
Pause.
)

(
Then in a pathetic voice:
)

I don’t feel too well at all. I’m not in me right health. I wouldn’t like to pass out here in the dairk . . . all be meself. Give us a bit of light there, some wan. . . .

CYRIL:
(
Far off.
) Cec-eel, where are you?

CHIEF ENGINEER:
Avvery mon, wooman ond wee wan to the front now. Quack morch!

MR. BEETLE:
Ay, where’s me pile gone to? D’yeh hear me? Where’s me pile? WHERE’S ME PILE?

CYRIL:
(
Calling softly.
) O Cec-eeeeeeeel . . .

TRAMP:
Will yez stop blatherin’ in the dark and show a light till I see am I alive at all! I don’t want to be stung again be that bloody big bee I seen sitting in a deck chair!

DRONE:
Princes and noble lords, what answer shall I make to this base man? I say, thou liest, and will maintain what thou hast said is false in thy heart-blood, though being all too base to stain the temper of my knightly sword.

TRAMP:
(
Awed.
) I beg yer pardin?

DUCK:
(
Appearing under a ghostly spotlight in the background stalking an invisible cricket.
) Nearly got the blighter. Four today and one more makes five.

(
Lunges forward and there is a scream as the light goes out.
)

TRAMP:
You’ve killed him! (
Excitedly.
) You’ve killed another one! Can yeh not stop killin’ and slaughterin’? CAN YEH NOT BE AISY AND LAVE OTHER PEOPLE ALONE?

EGG:
(
Revealed by dim spotlight and seen to be moving slightly.
) I’ll get out of this if it’s the last thing I do, if it’s the last thing I do I’ll break this bloody shell. I’ll be here soon, make no mistake at all about that!

CYRIL:
(
Afar off, perplexed.
) Do tell me, Cec-eel, where are you, old boy.

TRAMP:
Begob I believe I’m goin’ off me rocker.

MR. BEETLE:
Listen here, WHERE’S THAT BALL? Where’s me capital?

TRAMP:
That’s that bloody beetle, I’d know the voice anywhere.

(
The spotlight reveals dimly a beetle sneaking in and starting to roll away the
EGG
.)

EGG:
Help! HELP! Stop! Stop that!

BEETLE:
Shut up or I’ll ate yeh here!

EGG:
HELP! HELP! I want to be born! He’s going to kill me! HELP!

TRAMP:
(
Rising on elbow.
) Ay! You leave that bloody poor little egg alone—d’yeh hear me?

(
The ‘hideous cries’ are gathering in the background and now rise in crescendo. Confusion grows.
)

TRAMP:
Leave that egg alone. My God, more slaughter, more bloody slaughter!

CHIEF ENGINEER:
(
Invisible.
) The agg is port of our nawshional haritage! Defand it with your lives! Quack morch! Quack morch!

(
The dim light reveals that several beetles have rushed to contest the ownership of the
EGG
.
Several ants join in and a great battle starts: screams and roars and general din.
)

TRAMP:
(
Rising excitedly.
) DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? Didn’t you hear me tellin’ yeh to lave that egg alone? OUT OF ME WAY! If yez harum that egg I’ll have yer bloody lives! OUT OF ME WAY!

(
He is seen in the gloom to plunge madly into the battle, tripping and falling down among the milling insects. Soon his own horrible cries mingle with those of the others.
)

TRAMP:
Stop that! STOP! Yez are killin’ me. YEZ ARE ATIN’ ME! Ow—!

(
The row dies down gradually and darkness has descended. There is silence. Birds twitter and the dawn breaks. The
TRAMP
is revealed in a crumpled heap with frost on his clothes. Beside the body is an ordinary broken egg-shell. Two mooning lovers stroll in, the
BOY’S
arm round the
GIRL’S
waist. They start slightly at the spectacle of the
TRAMP
.)

GIRL:
O George, look!

BOY:
Janey, a beggar! He’s asleep!

GIRL:
Look at the bottle. He’s drunk. He must have been lying there all night. O George, I hate drunkards.

BOY:
How do you know I’m not one myself! Or that I won’t be when we’re married. How would you like me to go out every Friday and drink the week’s wages. And leave nothing to buy food for you and the kids.

GIRL:
(
Coy whimsy stuff.
) O George, how do you know we are going to have kids. You’re a very bold boy.

(
They begin to move off and exit.
)

BOY:
Well now you know. We’re going to have four kids—two girls and two boys. Not girls and boys following each other, of course. A boy, then a girl, and so on.

GIRL:
O George . . .

(
Exit. A ball runs across the stage followed by two ragged small
BOYS
,
shouting. They stop and regard the
TRAMP
.)

IST SMALL BOY:
Aw look at the man.

2ND SMALL BOY:
He’s asleep

IST SMALL BOY:
Maybe he’s dead. (
He runs to retrieve ball.
)

2ND SMALL BOY:
My daddy’s dead and Mammy’s goin’ to marry Mr. Conlan.

IST SMALL BOY:
I wouldn’t mind your ould wan.

(
They chase the ball off the stage again. Enter
KEEPER
.)

KEEPER:
Ay what’s this. What’s going on here. My God, has this bloody fellow been here all night!

(
Very concerned, he kneels and examines the
TRAMP
.
He rises, enormously excited.
)

KEEPER:
My God, he’s dead. There’ll be a bloody row about this. (
He picks up bottle and smells it.
) Whiskey. There’ll be hell to pay. (
He roars for a brother keeper.
) Hey! Slattery! SLATTERY! Come over here! Quick!

(
SLATTERY
,
a youth, comes running in.
)

SLATTERY:
What’s up?

KEEPER:
This unfortunate man’s dead. Give me your coat.

(
He covers corpse with overcoat.
)

SLATTERY:
Dead? Was he here all night?

KEEPER:
He was and whoever locked him in is going to get into a row. And it wasn’t me, Slattery.

SLATTERY:
The poor unfortunate divil.

(
The lovers come back, attracted by the row; they are soon followed by the small
BOYS
,
possibly reinforced in numbers.
)

KEEPER:
Phone for the ambulance, Slattery. STAND BACK NOW PLEASE. EVERYTHING’S ALL RIGHT.

GIRL:
Is he dead?

KEEPER:
Everything’s all right now. Stand back please.

GIRL:
O George!

BOY:
He’s better out of it the poor divil.

IST SMALL BOY:
The man’s dead.

GIRL:
O George, the poor man. The poor man.

BOY:
Do you see the eggshell. I suppose a little chicken was born out of it. Chicken starts out as this man finishes up. . . .

KEEPER:
It’s a duck’s egg. Now yez’ll all have to move on please. We don’t want any crowds collectin’.

2ND SMALL BOY:
Aw come on, come on home. I want to get me boat. Come on Paddy.

IST SMALL BOY:
All right come on.

(
They trail off to exit. Immediately a
LITTLE GIRL’S
voice is heard off, from the other side.
)

LITTLE GIRL:
Paddy! PAD-EE! Wait for me!

(
She hurries in to follow them and crosses stage, pushing an enormous pram.
)

KEEPER:
Gob, I never seen so many children.

CURTAIN

THE KNIFE
 
(Translated by Jack Fennell
)

Characters in the play

The two of them beside each other, an awful commotion going on between them as the curtain rises; herself sitting down, himself pacing crazily around the room.

TADHG:
It wouldn’t matter to me . . . (
He stands still for a moment and stretches his arm.
) I DON’T CARE only that it was me that taught you all the Irish you have!

PEIG:
(
Sniggering.
) You! You!!

TADHG:
(
At the top of his voice.
) Yeah, me! ME!

PEIG:
I suppose it was from you that I got my manners, too . . . and the money that bought this mahogany table. (
She knocks on
it.) WHAT DID I EVER GET FROM YOU BUT INSULTS . . . AND BACK-TALK . . . AND (
her voice changes into a mocking imitation of his
) “WHY IS IT THAT THE TEA CAN NEVER BE STRONG IN THIS HOUSE?” You? YOU?

TADHG:
(
Low and threatening.
) Maybe it would be better for you to be a little more careful.

PEIG:
Yourself and your little Irish lessons.

TADHG:
Be quiet, I’m telling you!

PEIG:
What’s that Art’s got? A pencil. Does Máire have a pencil? Máire has no pencil. Máire has a dolly. Ha-ha!

TADHG:
It won’t be a dolly that you’ll get if you keep this up, I promise you that much!