J. M. Synge

“ Let you not break the thing I’ve set my life on, and you giving yourself up to your sorrow when it’s joy and sorrow do burn out like straw blazing in an east wind.
DEIRDRE.
— turning on him. — Was it that way with your sorrow, when I and Naisi went northward from Slieve Fuadh and let raise our sails for Alban?
CONCHUBOR.
There’s one sorrow has no end surely — that’s being old and lonesome. (With extraordinary pleading.) But you and I will have a little peace in Emain, with harps playing, and old men telling stories at the fall of night. ”

“ DEIRDRE.
There’s reason all times for an end that’s come. And I’m well pleased, Naisi, we’re going forward in the winter the time the sun has a low place, and the moon has her mastery in a dark sky, for it’s you and I are well lodged our last day, where there is a light behind the clear trees, and the berries on the thorns are a red wall.
NAISI.
If our time in this place is ended, come away without Ainnle and Ardan to the woods of the east, for it’s right to be away from all people when two lovers have their love only. Come away and we’ll be safe always. ”

“ Keep back, Conchubor; for the High King who is your master has put his hands between us. (She half turns to the grave.) It was sorrows were foretold, but great joys were my share always; yet it is a cold place I must go to be with you, Naisi; and it’s cold your arms will be this night that were warm about my neck so often. . . . It’s a pitiful thing to be talking out when your ears are shut to me. It’s a pitiful thing, Conchubor, you have done this night in Emain; yet a thing will be a joy and triumph to the ends of life and time. ”

“ DEIRDRE.
— shaking her head slowly. — There are as many ways to wither love as there are stars in a night of Samhain; but there is no way to keep life, or love with it, a short space only. . . . It’s for that there’s nothing lonesome like a love is watching out the time most lovers do be sleeping. . . . It’s for that we’re setting out for Emain Macha when the tide turns on the sand.
NAISI.
— giving in. — You’re right, maybe. It should be a poor thing to see great lovers and they sleepy and old. ”

“ DEIRDRE.
— in a high and quiet tone. — I have put away sorrow like a shoe that is worn out and muddy, for it is I have had a life that will be envied by great companies. It was not by a low birth I made kings uneasy, and they sitting in the halls of Emain. It was not a low thing to be chosen by Conchubor, who was wise, and Naisi had no match for bravery. It is not a small thing to be rid of grey hairs, and the loosening of the teeth. (With a sort of triumph.) It was the choice of lives we had in the clear woods, and in the grave, we’re safe, surely. ”

“ If Conchubor’d a queen like me in Emain he’d not have stretched these rags to meet us. (She pulls hanging, and it opens.) There’s new earth on the ground and a trench dug. . . . It’s a grave, Naisi, that is wide and deep.
NAISI.
— goes over and pulls back curtain showing grave. — And that’ll be our home in Emain. . . . He’s dug it wisely at the butt of a hill, with fallen trees to hide it. He’ll want to have us killed and buried before Fergus comes.
DEIRDRE.
Take me away. . . . Take me to hide in the rocks, for the night is coming quickly. ”

“ DEIRDRE.
— made a little defiant by his tone. — I have no wish to be a queen.
CONCHUBOR.
— almost sneeringly. — You’d wish to be dressing in your duns and grey, and you herding your geese or driving your calves to their shed — like the common lot scattered in the glens.
DEIRDRE.
— very defiant. — I would not, Conchubor. (She goes to tapestry and begins to work.) A girl born the way I’m born is more likely to wish for a mate who’d be her likeness. . . . A man with his hair like the raven, maybe, and his skin like the snow and his lips like blood spilt on it. ”

“ Maeve of Connaught only, and those that are her like.
DEIRDRE.
Would Fergus go against him?
LAVARCHAM.
He would, maybe, and his temper roused.
DEIRDRE.
— in a lower voice with sudden excitement. — Would Naisi and his brothers?
LAVARCHAM.
— impatiently. — Let you not be dwelling on Naisi and his brothers. . . . In the end of all there is none can go against Conchubor, and it’s folly that we’re talking, for if any went against Conchubor it’s sorrow he’d earn and the shortening of his day of life. ”

“ LAVARCHAM.
— nodding her head. — If you’re old and wise, it’s I’m the same, Conchubor, and I’m telling you you’ll not have her though you’re ready to destroy mankind and skin the gods to win her. There’s things a king can’t have, Conchubor, and if you go rampaging this night you’ll be apt to win nothing but death for many, and a sloppy face of trouble on your own self before the day will come. ”

“ Yet the earth itself is a silly place, maybe, when a man’s a fool and talker.
OWEN.
— sharply. — Well, go, take your choice. Stay here and rot with Naisi or go to Conchubor in Emain. Conchubor’s a wrinkled fool with a swelling belly on him, and eyes falling downward from his shining crown; Naisi should be stale and weary. Yet there are many roads, Deirdre, and I tell you I’d liefer be bleaching in a bog-hole than living on without a touch of kindness from your eyes and voice. It’s a poor thing to be so lonesome you’d squeeze kisses on a cur dog’s nose. ”

“ It’s easy being fearful and you alone in the woods, yet it would be a poor thing if a timid woman (taunting her a little) could turn away the Sons of Usna from the life of kings. Let you be thinking on the years to come, Deirdre, and the way you’d have a right to see Naisi a high and white-haired justice beside some king of Emain. Wouldn’t it be a poor story if a queen the like of you should have no thought but to be scraping up her hours dallying in the sunshine with the sons of kings? ”

“ DEIRDRE.
Are the stepping-stones flooding, Lavarcham? Will the night be stormy in the hills?
LAVARCHAM.
— looking at her curiously. — The stepping-stones are flooding, surely, and the night will be the worst, I’m thinking, we’ve seen these years gone by.
DEIRDRE.
— tearing open the press and pulling out clothes and tapestries. — Lay these mats and hangings by the windows, and at the tables for our feet, and take out the skillets of silver, and the golden cups we have, and our two flasks of wine. ”

“ LAVARCHAM.
— to Old Woman. — She doesn’t heed us at all. We’ll be hard set to rouse her.
OLD WOMAN.
If we don’t the High King will rouse her, coming down beside her with the rage of battle in his blood, for how could Fergus stand against him?
LAVARCHAM.
— touching Deirdre with her hand. — There’s a score of woman’s years in store for you, and you’d best choose will you start living them beside the man you hate, or being your own mistress in the west or south?
DEIRDRE.
It is not I will go on living after Ainnle and after Ardan. After Naisi I will not have a lifetime in the world. ”

“ DEIRDRE.
— with a more tender intensity. — We’re seven years without roughness or growing weary; seven years so sweet and shining, the gods would be hard set to give us seven days the like of them. It’s for that we’re going to Emain, where there’ll be a rest for ever, or a place for forgetting, in great crowds and they making a stir.
NAISI.
— very softly. — We’ll go, surely, in place of keeping a watch on a love had no match and it wasting away. (They cling to each other for a moment, then Naisi looks up.) There are Fergus and Lavarcham and my two brothers. ”

“ NAISI.
Then we’ll go away. It isn’t I will give your like to Conchubor, not if the grave was dug to be my lodging when a week was by. (He looks out.) The stars are out, Deirdre, and let you come with me quickly, for it is the stars will be our lamps many nights and we abroad in Alban, and taking our journeys among the little islands in the sea. There has never been the like of the joy we’ll have, Deirdre, you and I, having our fill of love at the evening and the morning till the sun is high. ”

“ And yet this last while I’m saying out, when I see the furze breaking and the daws sitting two and two on ash-trees by the duns of Emain, Deirdre’s a year nearer her full age when she’ll be my mate and comrade and then I’m glad surely.
DEIRDRE.
— almost to herself. — I will not be your mate in Emain.
CONCHUBOR.
— not heeding her. — It’s there you’ll be proud and happy and you’ll learn that, if young men are great hunters, yet it’s with the like of myself you’ll find a knowledge of what is priceless in your own like. ”

“ There’s little hurt getting old, saving when you’re looking back, the way I’m looking this day, and seeing the young you have a love for breaking up their hearts with folly. (Going to Deirdre.) Take my word and stop Naisi, and the day’ll come you’ll have more joy having the senses of an old woman and you with your little grandsons shrieking round you, than I’d have this night putting on the red mouth and the white arms you have, to go walking lonesome byways with a gamey king. ”

“ NAISI.
I will not. . . . I’ve had dread, I tell you, dread winter and summer, and the autumn and the springtime, even when there’s a bird in every bush making his own stir till the fall of night; but this talk’s brought me ease, and I see we’re as happy as the leaves on the young trees, and we’ll be so ever and always, though we’d live the age of the eagle and the salmon and the crow of Britain.
FERGUS.
— with anger. — Where are your brothers? My message is for them also.
NAISI.
You’ll see them above chasing otters by the stream. ”

“ Fergus talks to Old Woman.
CONCHUBOR.
— stiffly. — A night with thunder coming is no night to be abroad.
LAVARCHAM.
— more uneasily. — She’s used to every track and pathway, and the lightning itself wouldn’t let down its flame to singe the beauty of her like. ”

“ It’s a long time we’ve had, pressing the lips together, going up and down, resting in our arms, Naisi, waking with the smell of June in the tops of the grasses, and listening to the birds in the branches that are highest. ”

“ If you’d a quiet place settled up to be playing yourself, maybe, with a gentle queen, what’d you think of young men prying around and carrying tales? When I was a bit of a girl the big men of Ulster had better manners, and they the like of your three selves, in the top folly of youth. That’ll be a story to tell out in Tara that Naisi is a tippler and stealer, and Ainnle the drawer of a stranger’s cork. ”

“ CONCHUBOR.
— looking at her for a moment. — That’s the first friendly word I’ve heard you speaking, Deirdre. A game the like of yours should be the proper thing for softening the heart and putting sweetness in the tongue; and yet this night when I hear you I’ve small blame left for Naisi that he stole you off from Ulster. ”

“ It may be I will not have Naisi growing an old man in Alban with an old woman at his side, and young girls pointing out and saying, “that is Deirdre and Naisi had great beauty in their youth.” It may be we do well putting a sharp end to the day is brave and glorious, as our fathers put a sharp end to the days of the kings of Ireland; or that I’m wishing to set my foot on Slieve Fuadh, where I was running one time and leaping the streams, (to Lavarcham) and that I’d be well pleased to see our little apple-trees, Lavarcham, behind our cabin on the hill ”

“ Will the High King get the better of her, Lavarcham? If I was Conchubor, I wouldn’t marry with her like at all.
LAVARCHAM.
Hang that by the window. That should please her, surely. When all’s said, it’s her like will be the master till the end of time.
OLD WOMAN.
— at the window. — There’s a mountain of blackness in the sky, and the greatest rain falling has been these long years on the earth. The gods help Conchubor. He’ll be a sorry man this night, reaching his dun, and he with all his spirits, thinking to himself he’ll be putting his arms around her in two days or three. ”

“ CONCHUBOR.
You’d be asking a year next year, and the years that follow. (Calling.) Fergus! Fergus! (To Deirdre.) Young girls are slow always; it is their lovers that must say the word. (Calling.) Fergus! ”

“ NAISI.
— looking at it in astonishment. — This is the High King’s. . . . I see his mark on the rim. Does Conchubor come lodging here?
LAVARCHAM.
— jumping up with extreme annoyance. — Who says it’s Conchubor’s? How dare young fools the like of you — (speaking with vehement insolence) come prying around, running the world into troubles for some slip of a girl? What brings you this place straying from Emain? (Very bitterly.) Though you think, maybe, young men can do their fill of foolery and there is none to blame them. ”

“ FERGUS.
It is a poor thing to see a queen so lonesome and afraid. (He watches till he is sure Deirdre cannot hear him.) Listen now to what I’m saying. You’d do well to come back to men and women are your match and comrades, and not be lingering until the day that you’ll grow weary, and hurt Deirdre showing her the hardness will grow up within your eyes. ”

“ Yet we’re better this place while Conchubor’s in Emain Macha.
FERGUS.
— giving him parchments. — There are your sureties and Conchubor’s seal. (To Deirdre.) I am your surety with Conchubor. You’ll not be young always, and it’s time you were making yourselves ready for the years will come, building up a homely dun beside the seas of Ireland, and getting in your children from the princes’ wives. It’s little joy wandering till age is on you and your youth is gone away, so you’d best come this night, for you’d have great pleasure putting out your foot and saying, “I am in Ireland, surely.” ”