{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_41102/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_41102","id":"gutenberg_41102","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41102","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Ireland -- Drama","Nobel Prizes in Literature"],"text":"Produced by Brian Foley, Jennifer Linklater and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n_BY THE SAME AUTHOR._\n\n  THE SECRET ROSE.\n  THE CELTIC TWILIGHT.\n  POEMS.\n  THE WIND AMONG THE REEDS.\n  THE SHADOWY WATERS.\n  IDEAS OF GOOD AND EVIL.\n\n\n\n\nPLAYS FOR AN IRISH THEATRE\n\nVOLUME III.\n\n\n\n\n  THE KING\u2019S THRESHOLD:\n  AND\n  ON BAILE\u2019S STRAND:\n\n  BEING VOLUME THREE OF PLAYS\n  FOR AN IRISH THEATRE:\n\n  BY W. B. YEATS\n\n\n  LONDON: A. H. BULLEN,\n  47, GREAT RUSSELL STREET, W.C.\n  1904\n\n  CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.\n  TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\n\nBoth these plays have been written for Mr. Fay\u2019s \u201cIrish National\nTheatre.\u201d \u201cThe King\u2019s Threshold\u201d was played in October, 1903, and \u201cOn\nBaile\u2019s Strand\u201d will be played in February or March, 1904. Both are\nfounded on Old Irish Prose Romances, but I have borrowed some ideas\nfor the arrangement of my subject in \u201cThe King\u2019s Threshold\u201d from\n\u201cSancan the Bard,\u201d a play published by Mr. Edwin Ellis some ten years\nago.\n\n                                                      W. B. Y.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                               PAGE\n\n  THE KING\u2019S THRESHOLD            1\n\n  ON BAILE\u2019S STRAND              67\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING\u2019S THRESHOLD\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF CHARACTERS\n\n  KING GUAIRE.\n  THE CHAMBERLAIN OF KING GUAIRE.\n  A Soldier.\n  A Monk.\n  THE MAYOR OF KINVARA.\n  A Cripple.\n  Another Cripple.\n  AILEEN,   } Ladies of the Court.\n  ESSA,     }\n  PRINCESS BUAN.\n  PRINCESS FINNHUA, her Sister.\n  FEDELM, Seanchan\u2019s Sweetheart.\n  CIAN,     } Servants of Seanchan.\n  BRIAN,    }\n  SENIAS,   } Pupils of Seanchan.\n  ARIAS,    }\n  SEANCHAN (pronounced Shanahan), Chief Poet of Ireland.\n\n  Pupils, Courtiers.\n\n\n\n\nA PROLOGUE.[1]\n\n  Footnote 1: Written for the first production of \u201cThe King\u2019s\n    Threshold\u201d in Dublin, but not used, as, owing to the smallness\n    of the company, nobody could be spared to speak it.\n\n\n    _An OLD MAN with a red dressing-gown, red slippers and red\n    nightcap, holding a brass candlestick with a guttering candle in it,\n    comes on from side of stage and goes in front of the dull green\n    curtain._\n\n_Old Man._ I\u2019ve got to speak the prologue. [_He shuffles on a few\nsteps._] My nephew, who is one of the play actors, came to me, and I in\nmy bed, and my prayers said, and the candle put out, and he told me\nthere were so many characters in this new play, that all the company\nwere in it, whether they had been long or short at the business, and\nthat there wasn\u2019t one left to speak the prologue. Wait a bit, there\u2019s a\ndraught here. [_He pulls the curtain closer together._] That\u2019s better.\nAnd that\u2019s why I\u2019m here, and maybe I\u2019m a fool for my pains.\n\nAnd my nephew said, there are a good many plays to be played for you,\nsome to-night and some on other nights through the winter, and the most\nof them are simple enough, and tell out their story to the end. But as\nto the big play you are to see to-night, my nephew taught me to say what\nthe poet had taught him to say about it. [_Puts down candlestick and\nputs right finger on left thumb._] First, he who told the story of\nSeanchan on King Guaire\u2019s threshold long ago in the old books told it\nwrongly, for he was a friend of the king, or maybe afraid of the king,\nand so he put the king in the right. But he that tells the story now,\nbeing a poet, has put the poet in the right.\n\nAnd then [_touches other finger_] I am to say: Some think it would be a\nfiner tale if Seanchan had died at the end of it, and the king had the\nguilt at his door, for that might have served the poet\u2019s cause better in\nthe end. But that is not true, for if he that is in the story but a\nshadow and an image of poetry had not risen up from the death that\nthreatened him, the ending would not have been true and joyful enough to\nbe put into the voices of players and proclaimed in the mouths of\ntrumpets, and poetry would have been badly served.\n\n    [_He takes up the candlestick again._\n\nAnd as to what happened Seanchan after, my nephew told me he didn\u2019t\nknow, and the poet didn\u2019t know, and it\u2019s likely there\u2019s nobody that\nknows. But my nephew thinks he never sat down at the king\u2019s table again,\nafter the way he had been treated, but that he went to some quiet green\nplace in the hills with Fedelm, his sweetheart, where the poor people\nmade much of him because he was wise, and where he made songs and\npoems, and it\u2019s likely enough he made some of the old songs and the old\npoems the poor people on the hillsides are saying and singing to-day.\n\n    [_A trumpet-blast._\n\nWell, it\u2019s time for me to be going. That trumpet means that the curtain\nis going to rise, and after a while the stage there will be filled up\nwith great ladies and great gentlemen, and poets, and a king with a\ncrown on him, and all of them as high up in themselves with the pride of\ntheir youth and their strength and their fine clothes as if there was no\nsuch thing in the world as cold in the shoulders, and speckled shins,\nand the pains in the bones and the stiffness in the joints that make an\nold man that has the whole load of the world on him ready for his bed.\n\n    [_He begins to shuffle away, and then stops._\n\nAnd it would be better for me, that nephew of mine to be thinking less\nof his play-acting, and to have remembered to boil down the knap-weed\nwith a bit of three-penny sugar, for me to be wetting my throat with\nnow and again through the night, and drinking a sup to ease the pains in\nmy bones.\n\n    [_He goes out at side of stage._\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING\u2019S THRESHOLD.\n\n\n    SCENE: _Steps before the Palace of KING GUAIRE at Gort. A table in\n    front of steps to right with food on it. SEANCHAN lying on steps to\n    left. PUPILS before steps. KING on top of steps at centre._\n\n  _King._ I welcome you that have the mastery\n  Of the two kinds of music; the one kind\n  Being like a woman, the other like a man;\n  Both you that understand stringed instruments,\n  And how to mingle words and notes together\n  So artfully, that all the art is but speech\n  Delighted with its own music; and you that carry\n  The long twisted horn and understand\n  The heady notes that being without words\n  Can hurry beyond time and fate and change;\n  For the high angels that drive the horse of time,\n  The golden one by day, by night the silver,\n  Are not more welcome to one that loves the world\n  For some fair woman\u2019s sake.\n\n                              I have called you hither\n  To save the life of your great master, Seanchan,\n  For all day long it has flamed up or flickered\n  To the fast-cooling hearth.\n\n  _Senias._ When did he sicken?\n  Is it a fever that is wasting him?\n\n  _King._ He did not sicken, but three days ago\n  He said he would not eat, and lay down there\n  And has not eaten since. Till yesterday\n  I thought that hunger and weakness had been enough,\n  But finding them too trifling and too light\n  To hold his mouth from biting at the grave\n  I called you hither, and have called others yet.\n  The girl he is to wed at harvest-time,\n  That should be of all living the most dear,\n  Is coming from the South, and had I known\n  Of any other neighbours or good friends\n  That might persuade him, I had brought them hither,\n  Even though I\u2019d to ransack the world for them.\n\n  _Senias._ What was it put him to this work, High King?\n\n  _King._ You will call it no great matter. Three days ago\n  I yielded to the outcry of my courtiers,\n  Bishops, soldiers, and makers of the law,\n  Who long had thought it against their dignity\n  For a mere man of words to sit among them\n  At my own table; and when the meal was spread\n  I ordered Seanchan to good company,\n  But to a lower table; and when he pleaded\n  The poet\u2019s right, established when the world\n  Was first established, I said that I was King\n  And made and unmade rights at my own pleasure.\n  And that it was the men who ruled the world,\n  And not the men who sang to it, who should sit\n  Where there was the most honour. My courtiers,\n  Bishops, soldiers, and makers of the law\n  Shouted approval, and amid that noise\n  Seanchan went out, and from that hour to this,\n  Although there is good food and drink beside him,\n  Has eaten nothing. If a man is wronged,\n  Or thinks that he is wronged, and will lie down\n  Upon another\u2019s threshold until he dies,\n  The common people for all time to come\n  Will raise a heavy cry against that threshold,\n  Even though it is the King\u2019s. He lies there now\n  Perishing; he is calling against my majesty,\n  That old custom that has no meaning in it,\n  And as he perishes, my name in the world\n  Is perishing also. I cannot give way\n  Because I am King, because if I give way\n  My nobles would call me a weakling, and it may be\n  The very throne be shaken; but should you\n  That are his friends speak to him and persuade him\n  To turn his mouth from the ill-savouring grave\n  And eat good food, he shall not lack my favour;\n  For I will give plough-land and grazing-land,\n  Or all but anything he has set his heart on.\n  It is not all because of my good name\n  I\u2019d have him live, for I have found him a man\n  That might well hit the fancy of a king\n  Banished out of his country, or a woman\u2019s,\n  Or any other\u2019s that can judge a man\n  For what he is. But I that sit a throne,\n  And take my measure from the needs of the state,\n  Call his wild thought that over-runs the measure,\n  Making words more than deeds, and his proud will\n  That would unsettle all, most mischievous,\n  And he himself a most mischievous man.\n\n  _Senias._ King, whether you did right or wrong in this\n  Let the King say, for all that I need say\n  Is that there\u2019s nothing that cries out for death\n  In the withholding of that ancient right,\n  And that I will persuade him. Your own words\n  Had been enough persuasion were it not\n  That he is lost in dreams that hunger makes,\n  And therefore heedless, or lost in heedless sleep.\n\n  _King._ I leave him to your love, that it may promise\n  Plough-lands and grass-lands, jewels and silken wear,\n  Or anything but that old right of the poets.\n\n    [_He goes out. The PUPILS, who have been standing perfectly quiet,\n    all turn towards SEANCHAN, and move a step nearer._\n\n  _Senias._ The King did wrong to abrogate our right,\n  But Seanchan, who talks of dying for it,\n  Talks foolishly. Look at us, Seanchan,\n  Waken out of your dream and look at us,\n  Who have ridden under the moon and all the day,\n  Until the moon has all but come again,\n  That we might be beside you.\n\n    [_SEANCHAN turns half round leaning on his elbow, and speaks as if\n    in a dream._\n\n  _Seanchan._                  I was but now\n  At Almhuin, in a great high-raftered house,\n  With Finn and Osgar. Odours of roast flesh\n  Rose round me and I saw the roasting spits,\n  And then the dream was broken, and I saw\n  Grania dividing salmon by a pool,\n  And then I was awakened by your voice.\n\n  _Senias._ It is your hunger that makes you dream of flesh\n  Roasting, and for your hunger I could weep;\n  And yet the hunger of the crane that starves\n  Because the moonlight glittering on the pool\n  And flinging a pale shadow has made it shy,\n  Seems to me little more fantastical\n  Than this that\u2019s blown into so great a trouble.\n\n  _Seanchan._ [_Who has turned away again._]\n  There is much truth in that, for all things change\n  At times, as if the moonlight altered them,\n  And my mind alters as if it were the crane\u2019s;\n  For when the heavy body has grown weak\n  There\u2019s nothing that can tether the wild mind\n  That being moonstruck and fantastical\n  Goes where it fancies. I had even thought\n  I knew your voice and face, but now the words\n  Are so unlikely that I needs must ask\n  Who is it that bids me put my hunger by?\n\n  _Senias._ I am your oldest pupil, Seanchan;\n  The one that has been with you many years,\n  So many that you said at Candlemas\n  That I had almost done with school, and knew\n  All but all that poets understand.\n\n  _Seanchan._ My oldest pupil. No, that cannot be;\n  For it is someone of the courtly crowds\n  That have been round about me from sunrise\n  And I am tricked by dreams, but I\u2019ll refute them.\n  I asked the pupil that I loved the best,\n  At Candlemas, why poetry is honoured,\n  Wishing to know how he\u2019d defend our craft\n  In distant lands among strange churlish Kings.\n  And he\u2019d an answer.\n\n  _Senias._           I said the poets hung\n  Images of the life that was in Eden\n  About the childbed of the world, that it,\n  Looking upon those images, might bear\n  Triumphant children; but why must I stand here\n  Repeating an old lesson while you starve?\n\n  _Seanchan._ Tell on, for I begin to know the voice;\n  What evil thing will come upon the world\n  If the arts perish?\n\n  _Senias._           If the arts should perish\n  The world that lacked them would be like a woman\n  That looking on the cloven lips of a hare\n  Brings forth a hare-lipped child.\n\n  _Seanchan._                       But that\u2019s not all.\n  For when I asked you how a man should guard\n  Those images you had an answer also,\n  If you\u2019re the man that you have claimed to be,\n  Comparing them to venerable things\n  God gave to men before he gave them wheat.\n\n  _Senias._ I answered, and the word was half your own,\n  That he should guard them, as the men of Dea\n  Guard their four treasures, as the Grail King guards\n  His holy cup, or the pale righteous horse\n  The jewel that is underneath his horn,\n  Pouring out life for it, as one pours out\n  Sweet heady wine--but now I understand\n  You would refute me out of my own mouth;\n  And yet a place at table near the King\n  Is nothing of great moment, Seanchan.\n  How does so light a thing touch poetry?\n\n    [_SEANCHAN is now sitting up. He still looks dreamily in front of\n    him._\n\n  _Seanchan._ At Candlemas you called this poetry\n  One of the fragile mighty things of God\n  That die at an insult.\n\n  _Senias._ [_To other PUPILS._] Give me some true answer.\n  For on that day we spoke about the court\n  And said that all that was insulted there\n  The world insulted, for the courtly life,\n  Being the first comely child of the world,\n  Is the world\u2019s model. How shall I answer him?\n  Can you not give me some true argument?\n  I will not tempt him with a lying one.\n\n  _Arias._ [_Throwing himself at SEANCHAN\u2019S feet._]\n  Why did you take me from my father\u2019s fields?\n  If you would leave me now, what shall I love?\n  Where shall I go, what shall I set my hand to?\n  And why have you put music in my ears\n  If you would send me to the clattering houses?\n  I will throw down the trumpet and the harp,\n  For how could I sing verses or make music\n  With none to praise me and a broken heart?\n\n  _Seanchan._ What was it that the poets promised you\n  If it was not their sorrow? Do not speak.\n  Have I not opened school on these bare steps,\n  And are not you the youngest of my scholars?\n  And I would have all know that when all falls\n  In ruin, poetry calls out in joy,\n  Being the scattering hand, the bursting pod,\n  The victim\u2019s joy among the holy flame,\n  God\u2019s laughter at the shattering of the world,\n  And now that joy laughs out and weeps and burns\n  On these bare steps.\n\n  _Arias._             O Master, do not die.\n\n    [_Three men come in. CIAN and BRIAN, old men carrying basket with\n    food, and MAYOR OF KINVARA. They stand at the side listening._\n\n  _Senias._ Trouble him with no useless argument.\n  Be silent; there is nothing we can do\n  Except find out the King and kneel to him\n  And beg our ancient right. These three have come\n  To say whatever we could say and more,\n  And fare as badly. Come, boy, that\u2019s no use;\n\n    [_He lifts the BOY up._\n\n  If it seem well that we beseech the King,\n  Lay down your harps and trumpets on the stones\n  In silence and come with me silently.\n  Come with slow footfalls and bow all your heads,\n  For a bowed head becomes a mourner best.\n\n    [_They lay the harps and trumpets down one by one and then go out\n    very solemnly and slowly, following one another._\n\n  _Cian._ Let\u2019s show the food that\u2019s in the basket.\n\n  _Mayor._ [_Who carries an Ogham stick._] No,\n  I must get through my speech or I\u2019ll forget it;\n  Besides, there is no reason why he\u2019d eat\n  Till he has heard my reasons.\n\n  _Cian._                       It were better\n  To show what we have brought him in the basket,\n  For we have nothing that he has not liked\n  From boyhood.\n\n  _Brian._      For we have not brought kings\u2019 food\n  That\u2019s cooked for everybody and nobody.\n\n  _Mayor._ You are not showing right respect to me,\n  Or to the people of Kinvara, when you wish\n  That something else should come before my message.\n\n  _Seanchan._ What brings you here? I never sent for you.\n\n  _Cian._ He must be famishing, he looks so pale.\n  We had better get the food out first. I tell you,\n  That we have brought the things he likes the best.\n\n  _Mayor._ No, no; I lost a word at every cross road\n  And maybe if I do not speak it now\n  I\u2019ll have forgot it.\n\n  _Cian._              Well, out with it quickly.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Why, what\u2019s this foolery?\n\n  _Mayor._                              No foolery;\n  A message from the richest, best born townsman\n  Of your own town, and from your aged father.\n\n  _Cian._ Run through it while I am getting out the food.\n\n  _Mayor._ How was I to begin? What was the word\n  That was to keep it in my memory?\n  Wait, I have notched it on this Ogham stick.\n  \u201cChief poet,\u201d \u201cIreland,\u201d \u201cTownsman\u201d; that is it.\n  Chief poet of Ireland, when we heard that trouble\n  Had come between you and the King of Ireland\n  It plunged us in deep sorrow, part for you,\n  Our honoured townsman, part for our good town.\n  The King was said to be most friendly to us,\n  And we had reasons, as you\u2019ll recollect,\n  For thinking that he was about to give\n  Those grazing lands inland we so much need,\n  Being pinched between the water and the rocks.\n  But now his friendliness being ill repaid\n  Will be turned from us and our town get nothing.\n  But there was something else--I\u2019ll find the word\n  That was to keep it in my memory.\n  \u201cPride\u201d--that\u2019s the word,--we would not have you think,\n  Weighty as these considerations are,\n  That they have been as weighty in our minds\n  As our desire that one we take much pride in,\n  A man who has been an honour to our town,\n  Should live and prosper, therefore we beseech you\n  To give way in a matter of no moment,\n  A matter of mere sentiment, a trifle,\n  That we may always keep our pride in you.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Their pride, their pride, what do they know of pride?\n  My pupils do not know it, for they beg\n  From the King\u2019s favour what is theirs by right,\n  And how can men, that God has made so weak\n  They need a rich man\u2019s favour every day,\n  Know anything of pride?\n\n  _Cian._ [_To MAYOR._] You have spoken it wrongly.\n  You have forgotten something out of it about the cattle dying.\n\n  _Mayor._ Maybe you do not know, being much away,\n  How many of our cattle died last winter\n  From lacking grass, and that there was much sickness\n  Because the poor had nothing but salt fish\n  To live upon. The people all came out\n  And stood about the doors as I went by.\n\n  _Seanchan._ What would you have of me?\n  For there are men that shall be born at last\n  And find sweet nurture that they may have voices\n  Even in anger like the strings of harps.\n  Yet how could they be born to majesty\n  If I had never made the golden cradle?\n\n  _Mayor._ What is it? \u201cFather\u201d--\u201cMother\u201d; that is it;\n  Your father sends this message.\n\n  _Cian._                         He is listening.\n\n  _Mayor._ He says that he is old and that he needs you,\n  And that the people will be pointing at him\n  And he not able to lift up his head\n  If you should turn the King\u2019s favour away.\n  And he adds to it, that he cared you well,\n  And you in your young age, and that it\u2019s right\n  That you should care him now.\n\n  _Cian._                       And when he spoke\n  He cried because the stiffness of his bones\n  Prevented him from coming.\n\n  _Mayor._                   But your mother\n  Has sent no message, for when they had told her\n  The way it is between you and the King\n  She said, \u201cNo message can do any good,\n  He will not send the answer that you want;\n  We cannot change him,\u201d and she went indoors,\n  Lay down upon her bed and turned her face\n  Out of the light. And thereupon your father\n  Said, \u201cTell him how she is, and that she sends\n  No message.\u201d I have nothing more to say.\n  Cian and Brian, you can set out the food.\n\n    [_He sits down on steps. SEANCHAN is silent._\n\n  _Mayor._ I have a horse waiting outside the town\n  To bring me home, and all the neighbours wait\n  Your answer. What answer am I to bring?\n\n  _Seanchan._ Give them my answer--no, I have no answer:\n  My mother knew it.\n\n  _Mayor._           Maybe you have forgotten\n  That all our fields are so heaped up with stones\n  That the goats famish, and the mowers mow\n  With knives, and that the King half promised us----\n\n  _Seanchan._ Thrust that old cloak of yours into your mouth\n  Till it\u2019s done gabbling.\n\n  _Mayor._                 But----\n\n  _Cian._                          You have said enough;\n  I knew that you would never speak it right.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Our mothers know us, they know us to the bone,\n  They knew us before birth, and that is why\n  They know us even better than the sweethearts\n  Upon whose breasts we have lain.\n\n  _Brian._ We have brought your honour\n  The food that you have always liked the best,\n  Young pigeons from Kinvara, and watercress\n  Out of the stream that\u2019s by the blessed well,\n  And dulse from Duras. Here is the dulse, your honour,\n  It is wholesome, and has the good taste of the sea.\n\n  _Seanchan._ O Brian, you would spread the table for me\n  As you would spread it when I was in my childhood;\n  But all that\u2019s finished.\n\n  _Mayor._                 I knew he would not care\n  For country things now that he\u2019s grown accustomed\n  To the King\u2019s dishes. I told Brian too\n  He\u2019d have his pains for nothing. But he\u2019s old.\n\n    [_Goes over to table at right. While he is speaking CIAN and BRIAN\n    are in vain offering SEANCHAN food._\n\n  And what dishes! Venison from Slieve Echtge\n  Fattened with poor men\u2019s crops; flesh of wild pig;\n  Not fat nor lean, but streaky and right well cured;\n  Bread that\u2019s the whitest that I\u2019ve ever seen.\n\n  _Cian._ You\u2019re in the right, you\u2019re in the right, he will not eat.\n\n    [_Pouring wine into cup._\n\n  _Mayor._ Bring him some wine, it will give him strength to eat.\n\n    [_BRIAN brings wine over towards SEANCHAN._\n\n  No wonder if the King is proud and merry,\n  And keeps all day in the saddle, when even I\n  Am well-nigh drunken with the odour of it,\n  And if I dared--I dare not.\n\n  _Cian._                     Drink it, sir.\n\n  _Brian._ Drink a few drops.\n\n  _Seanchan._                 Drink it yourself, old man,\n  For you have come a journey, and I daresay\n  You did not eat or drink upon the road.\n\n  _Cian._ How can I drink it when your honour\u2019s thirsty?\n\n    [_He offers cup again. The KING\u2019S HOUSEHOLD comes in. CHAMBERLAIN\n    with long staff, a SOLDIER, a MONK, two LADIES, followed by\n    CRIPPLES who beg from the ladies, who keep close together at\n    right, talking to each other at intervals. SOLDIER goes over to\n    MAYOR, and talks to him._\n\n  _Chamberlain._ Well, have you it in imagination still\n  To overthrow the dignity of the King,\n  Or is the game finished?\n\n    [_A pause._\n\n                           How many days\n  Will you keep up this quarrel with the King,\n  With the King\u2019s nobles and myself and all\n  Who\u2019d gladly be your friends if you would let them?\n\n  _Soldier._ [_Who has been speaking to MAYOR and SERVANTS._]\n  Was it you that sent his servants and the Mayor\n  Of his own town to wheedle him into life?\n\n  _Chamberlain._ It was the King himself.\n\n  _Soldier._                              Was it worth our while\n  To have got rid of him from the King\u2019s table\n  If he is to be humoured and made much of?\n\n  _Chamberlain._ It seems that he has not eaten yet, although\n  He\u2019s had another dozen hours of hunger.\n\n  _Soldier._ If he\u2019s so proud and obstinate a neck\n  I\u2019d let him starve.\n\n  _Monk._             Persuade him to eat, my lord.\n  His death would make a scandal, and stir up\n  The common people.\n\n  _Chamberlain._     And I have a fancy\n  That if it brought misfortune on the King,\n  Or the King\u2019s house, we\u2019d be as little thought of\n  As summer linen when the winter\u2019s come.\n\n  _Aileen._ [_To CIAN._]\n  You\u2019ve had no luck, old man.\n\n  _Cian._                      We have not, lady.\n\n  _Aileen._ Maybe he\u2019s out of humour with your ways,\n  Having grown used to sprightlier service.\n\n  _Cian._                                   Maybe.\n  But the King\u2019s messengers have gone for one\n  That will persuade him. [_To BRIAN._] Come, let us go;\n  For she might lose her way in this fine place.\n  Come, we have been too long upon the tree,\n\n    [_Plucking sleeve of MAYOR._\n\n  And there are little golden pippins here.\n\n  _Soldier._ Give me the dish, I\u2019ll hand it him myself.\n\n  _Aileen._ I wonder if she is pretty.\n\n    [_MAYOR and SERVANTS have gone out._\n\n  _Soldier._                           Eat this, old hedgehog.\n  Sniff up the savour and unroll yourself.\n  But if I were the King I\u2019d make you do it\n  With wisps of lighted straw.\n\n  _Seanchan._                  You have rightly named me,\n  I lie rolled up under the ragged thorns\n  That are upon the edge of those great waters\n  Where all things vanish away, and I have heard\n  Murmurs that are the ending of all sound.\n  I am out of life, I am rolled up, and yet,\n  Hedgehog although I am, I\u2019ll not unroll\n  For you, King\u2019s dog. Go to the King, your master,\n  Crouch down and wag your tail, for it may be\n  He has nothing now against you, and I think\n  The stripes of your last beating are all healed.\n\n  _Chamberlain._ Don\u2019t answer, you were never to his mind.\n  And now you have angered him to no good purpose.\n  But put the dish down and I will speak to him.\n\n  _Seanchan._ You must needs keep your patience yet awhile,\n  For I have some few mouthfuls of sweet air\n  To swallow before I have grown to be as civil\n  As any other dust.\n\n  _Chamberlain._     You wrong us, Seanchan,\n  There is none here but holds you in respect,\n  And if you would only eat out of this dish\n  The King would show how much he honours you.\n\n  _Aileen._ [_Giving CRIPPLE money._]\n  You are always discontented. Look at this cripple,\n  He has had to cover up his eyes with rags\n  Because they are too weak to look at the sun,\n  And has a crooked body, and yet he is cheerful.\n  Stand there where he can see you.\n\n    [_CRIPPLE goes over and stands in front of SEANCHAN, bowing and\n    smiling._\n\n  _Chamberlain._                    We have come to you\n  Because we wish you a long, prosperous life;\n  Who could imagine you\u2019d so take to heart\n  Being put from the high table.\n\n  _Seanchan._                    It was not I\n  That you have driven away from the high table,\n  But the images of them that weave a dance,\n  By the four rivers in the mountain garden.\n\n  _Monk._ He means we have driven poetry away.\n\n  _Chamberlain._ It is the men who are learned in the laws,\n  Or have led the King\u2019s armies that should sit\n  At the King\u2019s table. Nor has poetry\n  Been altogether driven away, for I,\n  As you should know, have written poetry,\n  And often when the table has been cleared\n  And candles lighted, the King calls for me\n  And I repeat it him. My poetry\n  Is not to be compared with yours, but still\n  Where I am honoured, poetry is honoured\n  In some measure.\n\n  _Seanchan._      If you are a poet,\n  Cry out that the King\u2019s money would not buy,\n  Nor the high circle consecrate his head,\n  If poets had never christened gold, and even\n  The moon\u2019s poor daughter, that most whey-faced metal,\n  Precious; and cry out that none alive\n  Would ride among the arrows with high heart\n  Or scatter with an open hand, had not\n  Our heady craft commended wasteful virtues.\n  And when that story\u2019s finished, shake your coat\n  Where the little jewels gleam on it, and say\n  A herdsman sitting where the pigs had trampled\n  Made up a song about enchanted kings,\n  Who were so finely dressed one fancied them\n  All fiery, and women by the churn\n  And children by the hearth caught up the song\n  And murmured it until the tailors heard it.\n\n  _Monk._ How proud these poets are! It was full time\n  To break their pride.\n\n  _Seanchan._           And I would have you say\n  That when we are driven out we come again\n  Like a great wind that runs out of the waste\n  To blow the tables flat.\n\n  _Chamberlain._           If you\u2019d eat something\n  You\u2019d find you have these thoughts because you are hungry.\n\n  _Seanchan._ And when you have told them all these things, lie down\n  On this bare threshold and starve until the King\n  Restore to us the ancient right of the poets.\n\n  _Aileen._ Let\u2019s come away. There\u2019s no use talking to him,\n  For he\u2019s resolved to die, and that\u2019s no loss:\n  We will go watch the hurley.\n\n  _Monk._                      You should obey\n  The King\u2019s commandment and not question it,\n  For it is God himself who has made him king.\n\n  _Essa._ Let\u2019s hear his answer to the monk.\n\n  _Seanchan._                                Stoop down,\n  For there is something I would say to you.\n  Has that wild God of yours that was so wild\n  When you\u2019d but lately taken the King\u2019s pay,\n  Grown any tamer? He gave you all much trouble\n  Being so unruly and inconsiderate.\n\n  _Aileen._ What does he mean?\n\n  _Monk._                      Let go my habit, Seanchan.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Or it may be you have persuaded him\n  To chirp between two dishes when the King\n  Sits down to table.\n\n  _Monk._             Let go my habit, sir.\n  What do I care about your insolent dreams.\n\n  _Seanchan._ And maybe he has learnt to sing quite softly\n  Because loud singing would disturb the King\n  Who is sitting drowsily among his friends\n  After the table has been cleared----\n\n  _Monk._                              Let go.\n\n    [_SEANCHAN has been dragged some feet, clinging to the MONK\u2019S\n    habit._\n\n  _Seanchan._ Not yet; you did not think that hungry hands\n  Could be so strong. They are not civil yet--\n  I\u2019d know if you have taught him to eat bread\n  From the King\u2019s hand, and perch upon his finger.\n  I think he perches on the King\u2019s strong hand,\n  But it may be that he is still too wild.\n  You must not weary in your work; a King\n  Is often weary and he needs a God\n  To be a comfort to him.\n\n    [_The MONK plucks his habit away. SEANCHAN holds up his hand as if a\n    bird perched upon it. He pretends to stroke the bird._\n\n                          A little god,\n  With soft well-coloured feathers, and bright eyes.\n\n  _Aileen._ We have listened long enough.\n\n  _Essa._                                 Let us away,\n  Where we can watch the young men at the hurley.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Yes, yes, go to the hurley, go to the hurley,\n  Go to the hurley, gather up your skirts,\n  Run quickly. You can remember many love songs;\n  I know it by the light that\u2019s in your eyes,\n  But you\u2019ll forget them. You\u2019re fair to look on,\n  Your feet delight in dancing, and your mouths\n  In the slow smiling that awakens love.\n  The mothers that have borne you mated rightly,\n  For they had little ears as thirsty as are yours\n  For many love-songs. Go to the young men:\n  Are not the ruddy flesh and the thin flanks\n  And the broad shoulders worthy of desire?\n  Go from me. Here is nothing for your eyes,\n  But it is I that am singing you away,\n  Singing you to the young men.\n\n    [_The two young PRINCESSES BUAN and FINNHUA come in. While he has\n    been speaking AILEEN and ESSA have shrunk back holding each others\n    hands._\n\n  _Aileen._                     Be quiet;\n  Look who it is that has come out of the house.\n  Princesses, we are for the hurling field.\n  Will you come too?\n\n  _Princess Buan._   We will go with you, Aileen,\n  But we must have some words with Seanchan,\n  For we have come to make him eat and drink.\n\n  _Chamberlain._ I will hold out the dish and cup for him\n  While you are speaking to him of his folly,\n  If you desire it, Princess.\n\n    [_He has taken up dish and cup._\n\n  _Princess Buan._ Give me the cup.\n  My sister there will carry the dish of meat:\n  We\u2019ll offer them ourselves.\n\n  _Aileen._                   They are so gracious,\n  The dear little princesses are so gracious.\n\n    [_PRINCESS BUAN holds out her hand for SEANCHAN to kiss it; he does\n    not move._\n\n  Although she is holding out her hand to him\n  He will not kiss it.\n\n  _Princess Buan._     My father bids us say\n  That though he cannot have you at his table,\n  You may ask any other thing you like\n  And he will give it you. We carry you\n  A dish and a cup of wine, with our own hands,\n  To show in what great honour you are held.\n  Will you not drink a little? Does he not show\n  Every befitting honour to the poets?\n\n  _Aileen._ O look, he has taken it, he has taken it!\n  The dear princesses, I have always said\n  That nobody could refuse them anything.\n\n    [_SEANCHAN takes the cup in one hand, in the other he holds for a\n    moment the hand of the PRINCESS._\n\n  _Seanchan._ O long soft fingers and pale finger-tips\n  Well worthy to be laid in a king\u2019s hand;\n  O you have fair white hands, for it is certain\n  There is uncommon whiteness in these hands.\n  But there is something comes into my mind,\n  Princess. A little while before your birth\n  I saw your mother sitting by the road\n  In a high chair, and when a leper passed\n  She pointed him the way into the town,\n  And he lifted his hand and blessed her hand;\n  I saw it with my own eyes. Hold out your hands,\n  I will find out if they are contaminated;\n  For it has come into my thoughts that may be\n  The King has sent me food and drink by hands\n  That are contaminated. I would see all your hands,\n  You\u2019ve eyes of dancers, but hold out your hands,\n  For it may be there are none sound among you----\n\n    [_The PRINCESSES have shrunk back in terror._\n\n  _Princess Buan._ He has called us lepers.\n\n  _Chamberlain._                            He\u2019s out of his mind,\n  And does not know the meaning of what he said.\n\n  _Seanchan._ [_Standing up._]\n  There are no sound hands among you. No sound hands.\n  Away with you, away with all of you,\n  You are all lepers. There is leprosy\n  Among the plates and dishes that you have brought me.\n  I would know why you have brought me leper\u2019s wine?\n\n    [_He flings the wine in their faces._\n\n  There, there, I have given it to you again, and now\n  Begone or I will give my curse to you.\n  You have the leper\u2019s blessing, but you think\n  Maybe the bread will something lack in savour\n  Unless you mix my curse into the dough.\n\n    [_They go out to L., all except the CRIPPLES. SEANCHAN is\n    staggering in the middle of the stage._\n\n  _Seanchan._ Where did I say the leprosy came from?\n  I said it came out of a leper\u2019s hand\n  And that he walked the highway; but that\u2019s folly,\n  For he was walking up there in the sky\n  And there he is even now with his white hand\n  Thrust out of the blue air and blessing them\n  With leprosy.\n\n  _A Cripple._ He\u2019s pointing at the moon\n  That\u2019s coming out up yonder, and he calls it\n  Leprous, because the daylight whitens it.\n\n  _Seanchan._ He\u2019s holding up his hand above them all\n  King, Noblemen, Princesses, blessing all.\n  Who could imagine he\u2019d have so much patience.\n\n  _First Cripple._ Come out of this.\n\n    [_Clutching other CRIPPLE._\n\n  _Second Cripple._ If you don\u2019t need it, sir,\n  May we not carry some of it away?\n\n    [_He points to food._\n\n  _Seanchan._ Who\u2019s speaking? Who are you?\n\n  _First Cripple._                         Come out of this.\n\n  _Second Cripple._ Have pity on us, that must beg our bread\n  From table to table throughout the entire world\n  And yet be hungry.\n\n  _Seanchan._ But why were you born crooked?\n  What bad poet did your mothers listen to\n  That you were born so crooked?\n\n  _First Cripple._               Come away.\n  Maybe he\u2019s cursed the food and it might kill us.\n\n  _Second Cripple._ Yes, better come away.\n\n    [_They go out._\n\n  _Seanchan._ [_Staggering and speaking wearily._]\n  He has great strength\n  And great patience to hold his right hand there\n  Uplifted and not wavering about;\n  He is much stronger than I am, much stronger.\n\n    [_He sinks down on steps._\n\n    _Enter from R. FEDELM, CIAN and BRIAN._\n\n  _Brian._ There he is lying. Go over to him now\n  And bid him eat.\n\n  _Fedelm._        I\u2019ll get him out of this\n  Before I have said a word of food and drink;\n  For while he is on this threshold and can hear,\n  It may be, the voices that made mock of him,\n  He would not listen.\n\n  _Brian._             That is a good plan.\n  But there is little time, for he is weakening.\n\n  _Fedelm._ [_Crying._] I cannot think of any other plan\n  Although it breaks my heart.\n\n  _Cian._                      Let\u2019s leave them now,\n  For she will press the honey from her bag\n  When we are gone.\n\n  _Brian._          It will be hard to move him\n  If hunger and thirst have got into his bones.\n\n    [_They go out leaving FEDELM and SEANCHAN alone. FEDELM runs over to\n    SEANCHAN and kneels down before him._\n\n  _Fedelm._ Seanchan! Seanchan!\n\n    [_He remains looking into the sky._\n\n  Can you not see me, Seanchan?\n  It is myself.\n\n    [_SEANCHAN looks at her dreamily at first, then takes her hand._\n\n  _Seanchan._   Is this your hand, Fedelm?\n  I have been looking at another hand\n  That is up yonder.\n\n  _Fedelm._          I have come for you.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Fedelm, I did not know that you were here.\n\n  _Fedelm._ And can you not remember that I promised\n  That I would come and take you home with me\n  When I\u2019d the harvest in? and now I\u2019ve come,\n  And you must come away, and come on the instant.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Yes, I will come; but is the harvest in?\n  This air has got a summer taste in it.\n\n  _Fedelm._ But is not the wild middle of the summer\n  A better time to marry? Come with me now.\n\n  _Seanchan._ [_Seizing her by both wrists._]\n  Who taught you that, for it\u2019s a certainty,\n  Although I never knew it till last night,\n  That marriage, because it is the height of life,\n  Can only be accomplished to the full\n  In the high days of the year. I lay awake,\n  There had come a frenzy into the light of the stars\n  And they were coming nearer and I knew\n  All in a minute they were about to marry\n  Clods out upon the plough-lands, to beget\n  A mightier race than any that has been;\n  But some that are within there made a noise\n  And frighted them away.\n\n  _Fedelm._               Come with me now;\n  We have far to go, and daylight\u2019s running out.\n\n  _Seanchan._ The stars had come so near me that I caught\n  Their singing; it was praise of that great race\n  That would be haughty, mirthful, and white-bodied\n  With a high head, and open hand, and how\n  Laughing, it would take the mastery of the world.\n\n  _Fedelm._ But you will tell me all about their songs\n  When we\u2019re at home. You have need of rest and care,\n  And I can give them you when we\u2019re at home,\n  And therefore let us hurry and get us home.\n\n  _Seanchan._ That\u2019s true; and there\u2019s some trouble here, although\n  I cannot now remember what it is,\n  And I would get away from it. Give me your help.\n  But why are not my pupils here to help me?\n  Go, call my pupils, for I need their help.\n\n  _Fedelm._ Come with me now, and I will send for them,\n  For I have a great room that\u2019s full of beds\n  I can make ready, and there is a smooth lawn\n  Where they can play at hurley and sing poems\n  Under an apple-tree.\n\n  _Seanchan._          I know that place,\n  An apple tree and a smooth level lawn,\n  Where the young men can sway their hurley sticks.\n\n      _Sings._\n\n    The four rivers that run there,\n    Through well-mown level ground,\n    Have come out of a blessed well\n    That is all bound and wound\n    By the great roots of an apple,\n    And all fowls of the air\n    Have gathered in the wide branches\n    And keep singing there.\n\n    [_FEDELM, troubled, has covered her eyes with her hands._\n\n  _Fedelm._ No, there are not four rivers, and those rhymes\n  Praise Adam\u2019s Paradise.\n\n  _Seanchan._             I can remember now.\n  It\u2019s out of a poem I made long ago\n  About the garden in the east of the world,\n  And how spirits in the images of birds\n  Crowd in the branches of old Adam\u2019s crab-tree;\n  They come before me now and dig in the fruit\n  With so much gluttony, and are so drunk\n  With that harsh, wholesome savour that their feathers\n  Are clinging one to another with the juice.\n  But you would take me to some friendly place,\n  And I would go there quickly.\n\n  _Fedelm._                     Come with me.\n\n    [_She helps him to rise. He walks slowly, supported by her till he\n    comes to the table at R._\n\n  _Seanchan._ But why am I so weak? Have I been ill?\n  Sweetheart, why is it that I am so weak?\n\n    [_He sinks on to the seat._\n\n  _Fedelm._ I\u2019ll dip this piece of bread into the wine,\n  For that will make you stronger for the journey.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Yes, give me bread and wine, that\u2019s what I want,\n  For it is hunger that is gnawing me.\n\n    [_He takes bread from FEDELM, hesitates, and then thrusts it back\n    into her hand._\n\n  But no, I must not eat it.\n\n  _Fedelm._                  Eat, Seanchan,\n  For if you do not eat it you will die.\n\n  _Seanchan._ Why did you give me food?\n  Why did you come?\n  For had I not enough to fight against\n  Without your coming?\n\n  _Fedelm._            Eat this little crust,\n  Seanchan, if you have any love for me.\n\n  _Seanchan._ I must not eat it: but that\u2019s beyond your wit;\n  Child, child, I must not eat it though I die.\n\n  _Fedelm._ You do not know what love is, for if you loved\n  You would put every other thought away\n  But you have never loved me.\n\n  _Seanchan._ [_Seizing her by the wrist._] You, a child,\n  Who have but seen a man out of the window,\n  Tell me that I know nothing about love,\n  And that I do not love you. Did I not say\n  There was a frenzy in the light of the stars\n  All through the livelong night, and that the night\n  Was full of marriages? But that fight\u2019s over.\n  And all that\u2019s done with, and I have to die.\n\n  _Fedelm._ [_Throwing her arms about him._]\n  I will not be put from you, although I think\n  I had not grudged it you if some great lady,\n  If the King\u2019s daughter, had set out your bed.\n  I will not give you up to death; no, no,\n  And are not these white arms and this soft neck\n  Better than the brown earth?\n\n  _Seanchan._                  I swear an oath\n  Upon the holy tree that I\u2019ll not eat\n  Until the King restore the right of the poets.\n  O Sun and Moon, and all things that have strength,\n  Become my strength that I may put a curse\n  On all things that would have me break this oath.\n\n    [_FEDELM has sunk down on the ground while he says this, and\n    crouches at his feet._\n\n  _Fedelm._ Seanchan, do not curse me; from this out\n  I will obey like any married wife.\n  Let me but lie before your feet.\n\n  _Seanchan._                      Come nearer.\n\n    [_He kisses her._\n\n  If I had eaten when you bid me, sweetheart,\n  The kiss of multitudes in times to come\n  Had been the poorer.\n\n  _King._ [_Entering from house._] Has he eaten yet?\n\n  _Fedelm._ No, King, and will not till you have restored\n  The right of the poets.\n\n  _King._ [_Coming down and standing before SEANCHAN._]\n  Seanchan, you have refused\n  Everybody that I have sent, and now\n  I come to you myself, and I have come\n  To bid you put your pride as far away\n  As I have put my pride. I had your love\n  Not a great while ago, and now you have planned\n  To put a voice by every cottage fire\n  And in the night when no one sees who cries\n  To cry against me till my throne has crumbled.\n  And yet if I give way I must offend\n  My courtiers and nobles till they too\n  Strike at the crown. What would you have of me?\n\n  _Seanchan._ When did the poets promise safety, King?\n\n  _King._ Seanchan, I bring you bread in my own hands,\n  And bid you eat it because of all these reasons,\n  And for this further reason that I love you.\n\n    [_SEANCHAN pushes bread away with FEDELM\u2019S hand._\n\n  You have refused it, Seanchan.\n\n  _Seanchan._                    We have refused it.\n\n  _King._ I have been patient though I am a king,\n  And have the means to force you--but that\u2019s ended,\n  And I am but a king and you a subject.\n\n    [_He goes up steps._\n\n  Nobles and courtiers, bring the poets hither\n  For you can have your way: I that was man\n  With a man\u2019s heart am now all king again,\n  Remembering that the seed I come of, although\n  A hundred kings have sown it and re-sown it,\n  Has neither trembled nor shrunk backward yet\n  Because of the hard business of a king.\n\n    [_PRINCESSES, LADIES, and COURTIERS have come in with\n    PUPILS, who have halters round their necks._\n\n  Speak to your master, beg your life of him,\n  Show him the halters that are round your necks;\n  If his heart\u2019s set upon it he may die,\n  But you shall all die with him; beg your lives;\n  Begin, for you have little time to lose;\n  Begin it you that are the oldest pupil.\n\n  _Senias._ [_Going up to SEANCHAN._]\n  Die, Seanchan, and proclaim the right of the poets.\n\n  _King._ Silence, you are as crazy as your master.\n  But that young boy that seems the youngest of you,\n  I\u2019d have him speak. Kneel down before him, boy,\n  Hold up your hands to him that he may pluck\n  That milky coloured neck out of the noose.\n\n  _Arias._ Die, Seanchan, and proclaim the right of the poets.\n\n    [_All the PUPILS turn towards the KING, holding out the ends of\n    their halters._\n\n  _Senias._ Gather the halters up into your hands\n  And lead us where you will, for in all things\n  But in our art we are obedient.\n\n    [_The KING comes slowly down the steps._\n\n  _King._ [_Kneeling down before SEANCHAN._]\n  Kneel down, kneel down, he has the greater power.\n  I give my crown to you.\n\n    [_All kneel except SEANCHAN, FEDELM and PUPILS. SEANCHAN rises\n    slowly, supported by one of the PUPILS and by FEDELM._\n\n  _Seanchan._             O crown, O crown,\n  It is but right if hands that made the crown\n  In the old time should give it when they will.\n  O silver trumpets be you lifted up\n\n    [_He lays the crown on the KING\u2019S head._\n\n  And cry to the great race that is to come.\n  Long-throated swans among the waves of time\n  Sing loudly, for beyond the wall of the world\n  It waits and it may hear and come to us.\n\n    [_Some of the PUPILS blow a blast upon their horns._\n\n\nCURTAIN.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nON BAILE\u2019S STRAND.\n\n\n  CUCHULLAIN, the King of Muirthemne.\n  CONCOBAR, the High King of Ullad.\n  DAIRE, a King.\n  FINTAIN, a blind man.\n  BARACH, a fool.\n  A Young Man.\n  Young Kings and Old Kings.\n\n\n    SCENE: _A great hall by the sea close to Dundalgan. There are two\n    great chairs on either side of the hall, each raised a little from\n    the ground, and on the back of the one chair is carved and painted a\n    woman with a fish\u2019s tail, and on the back of the other a hound.\n    There are smaller chairs and benches raised in tiers round the\n    walls. There is a great ale vat at one side near a small door, and a\n    large door at the back through which one can see the sea. BARACH, a\n    tall thin man with long ragged hair, dressed in skins, comes in at\n    the side door. He is leading FINTAIN, a fat blind man, who is\n    somewhat older._\n\n_Barach._ I will shut the door, for this wind out of the sea gets into\nmy bones, and if I leave but an inch for the wind there is one like a\nflake of sea-frost that might come into the house.\n\n_Fintain._ What is his name, fool?\n\n_Barach._ It\u2019s a woman from among the Riders of the Sidhe. It\u2019s Boann\nherself from the river. She has left the Dagda\u2019s bed, and gone through\nthe salt of the sea and up here to the strand of Baile, and all for love\nof me. Let her keep her husband\u2019s bed, for she\u2019ll have none of me.\nNobody knows how lecherous these goddesses are. I see her in every kind\nof shape but oftener than not she\u2019s in the wind and cries \u201cgive a kiss\nand put your arms about me.\u201d But no, she\u2019ll have no more of me.\nYesterday when I put out my lips to kiss her, there was nothing there\nbut the wind. She\u2019s bad, Fintain. O, she\u2019s bad. I had better shut the\nbig door too.\n\n    [_He is going towards the big door but turns hearing FINTAIN\u2019S\n    voice._\n\n_Fintain._ [_Who has been feeling about with his stick._] What\u2019s this\nand this?\n\n_Barach._ They are chairs.\n\n_Fintain._ And this?\n\n_Barach._ Why, that\u2019s a bench.\n\n_Fintain._ And this?\n\n_Barach._ A big chair.\n\n_Fintain._ [_Feeling the back of the chair._] There is a sea-woman\ncarved upon it.\n\n_Barach._ And there is another big chair on the other side of the hall.\n\n_Fintain._ Lead me to it. [_He mutters while the fool is leading him._]\nThat is what the High King Concobar has on his shield. The High King\nwill be coming. They have brought out his chair. [_He begins feeling the\nback of the other chair._] And there is a dog\u2019s head on this. They have\nbrought out our master\u2019s chair. Now I know what the horse-boys were\ntalking about. We must not stay here. The Kings are going to meet here.\nNow that Concobar and our master, that is his chief man, have put down\nall the enemies of Ullad, they are going to build up Emain again. They\nare going to talk over their plans for building it. Were you ever in\nConcobar\u2019s town before it was burnt? O, he is a great King, for though\nEmain was burnt down, every war had made him richer. He has gold and\nsilver dishes, and chessboards and candlesticks made of precious stones.\nFool, have they taken the top from the ale vat?\n\n_Barach._ They have.\n\n_Fintain._ Then bring me a horn of ale quickly, for the Kings will be\nhere in a minute. Now I can listen. Tell me what you saw this morning?\n\n_Barach._ About the young man and the fighting?\n\n_Fintain._ Yes.\n\n_Barach._ And after that we can go and eat the fowl, for I am hungry.\n\n_Fintain._ Time enough, time enough. You\u2019re in as great a hurry as when\nyou brought me to Aine\u2019s Seat, where the mad dogs gather when the moon\u2019s\nat the full. Go on with your story.\n\n_Barach._ I was creeping under a ditch, with the fowl in my leather bag,\nkeeping to the shore where the farmer could not see me, when I came upon\na ship drawn up upon the sands, a great red ship with a woman\u2019s head\nupon it.\n\n_Fintain._ A ship out of Aoife\u2019s country. They have all a woman\u2019s head\non the bow.\n\n_Barach._ There was a young man with a pale face and red hair standing\nbeside it. Some of our people came up whose turn it was to guard the\nshore. I heard them ask the young man his name. He said he was under\nbonds not to tell it. Then words came between them, and they fought,\nand the young man killed half of them, and the others ran away.\n\n_Fintain._ It matters nothing to us, but he has come at last.\n\n_Barach._ Who has come?\n\n_Fintain._ I know who that young man is. There is not another like him\nin the world. I saw him when I had my eyesight.\n\n_Barach._ You saw him?\n\n_Fintain._ I used to be in Aoife\u2019s country when I had my eyesight.\n\n_Barach._ That was before you went on shipboard and were blinded for\nputting a curse on the wind?\n\n_Fintain._ Queen Aoife had a son that was red haired and pale faced like\nherself, and everyone said that he would kill Cuchullain some day, but I\nwould not have that spoken of.\n\n_Barach._ Nobody could do that. Who was his father?\n\n_Fintain._ Nobody but Aoife knew that, not even he himself.\n\n_Barach._ Not even he himself! Was Aoife a goddess and lecherous?\n\n_Fintain._ I overheard her telling that she never had but one lover, and\nthat he was the only man who overcame her in battle. There were some who\nthought him one of the Riders of the Sidhe, because the child was great\nof limb and strong beyond others. The child was begotten over the\nmountains; but come nearer and I will tell you something.\n\n_Barach._ You have thought something?\n\n_Fintain._ When I hear the young girls talking about the colour of\nCuchullain\u2019s eyes, and how they have seven colours, I have thought about\nit. That young man has Aoife\u2019s face and hair, but he has Cuchullain\u2019s\neyes.\n\n_Barach._ How can he have Cuchullain\u2019s eyes?\n\n_Fintain._ He is Cuchullain\u2019s son.\n\n_Barach._ And his mother has sent him hither to fight his father.\n\n_Fintain._ It is all quite plain. Cuchullain went into Aoife\u2019s country\nwhen he was a young man that he might learn skill in arms, and there he\nbecame Aoife\u2019s lover.\n\n_Barach._ And now she hates him because he went away, and has sent the\nson to kill the father. I knew she was a goddess.\n\n_Fintain._ And she never told him who his father was, that he might do\nit. I have thought it all out, fool. I know a great many things because\nI listen when nobody is noticing and I keep my wits awake. What ails you\nnow?\n\n_Barach._ I have remembered that I am hungry.\n\n_Fintain._ Well, forget it again, and I will tell you about Aoife\u2019s\ncountry. It is full of wonders. There are a great many Queens there who\ncan change themselves into wolves and into swine and into white hares,\nand when they are in their own shapes they are stronger than almost any\nman; and there are young men there who have cat\u2019s eyes and if a bird\nchirrup or a mouse squeak they cannot keep them shut, even though it is\nbedtime and they sleepy; and listen, for this is a great wonder, a very\ngreat wonder: there is a long narrow bridge, and when anybody goes to\ncross it, that the Queens do not like, it flies up as this bench would\nif you were to sit on the end of it. Everybody who goes there to learn\nskill in arms has to cross it. It was in that country too that\nCuchullain got his spear made out of dragon bones. There were two\ndragons fighting in the foam of the sea, and their grandam was the moon,\nand nine Queens came along the shore.\n\n_Barach._ I won\u2019t listen to your story.\n\n_Fintain._ It is a very wonderful story. Wait till you hear what the\nnine Queens did. Their right hands were all made of silver.\n\n_Barach._ No, I will have my dinner first. You have eaten the fowl I\nleft in front of the fire. The last time you sent me to steal something\nyou made me forget all about it till you had eaten it up.\n\n_Fintain._ No, there is plenty for us both.\n\n_Barach._ Come with me where it is.\n\n_Fintain._ [_Who is being led towards the door at the back by BARACH._]\nO, it is all right, it is in a safe place.\n\n_Barach._ It is a fine fowl. It was the biggest in the yard.\n\n_Fintain._ It had a good smell, but I hope that the wild dogs have not\nsmelt it. [_Voices are heard outside the door at the side._] Here is our\nmaster. Let us stay and talk with him. Perhaps Cuchullain will give you\na new cap with a feather. He told me that he would give you a new cap\nwith a feather, a feather with an eye that looks at you, a peacock\u2019s\nfeather.\n\n_Barach._ No, no.\n\n    [_He begins pulling FINTAIN towards the door._\n\n_Fintain._ If you do not get it now, you may never get it, for the\nyoung man may kill him.\n\n_Barach._ No, no, I am hungry. What a head you have, blind man! Who but\nyou would have remembered that the hen-wife slept for a little at noon\nevery day!\n\n_Fintain._ [_Who is being led along very slowly and unwillingly._] Yes,\nI have a good head. The fowl should be done just right, but one never\nknows when a wild dog may come out of the woods.\n\n    [_They go out through the big door at the back. As they go out\n    CUCHULLAIN and certain YOUNG KINGS come in at the side door.\n    CUCHULLAIN, though still young, is a good deal older than the\n    others. They are all very gaily dressed, and have their hair\n    fastened with balls of gold. The young men crowd about CUCHULLAIN\n    with wondering attention._\n\n  _First Young King._ You have hurled that stone beyond our utmost mark\n  Time after time, but yet you are not weary.\n\n  _Second Young King._ He has slept on the bare ground of Fuad\u2019s Hill\n  This week past, waiting for the bulls and the deer.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Well, why should I be weary?\n\n  _First Young King._                        It is certain\n  His father was the god who wheels the sun,\n  And not King Sualtam.\n\n  _Third Young King._ [_To a YOUNG KING who is beside him._]\n                        He came in the dawn,\n  And folded Dectara in a sudden fire.\n\n  _Fourth Young King._ And yet the mother\u2019s half might well grow weary,\n  And it new come from labours over sea.\n\n  _Third Young King._ He has been on islands walled about with silver,\n  And fought with giants.\n\n    [_They gather about the ale vat and begin to drink._\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Who was it that went out?\n\n  _Third Young King._ As we came in?\n\n  _Cuchullain._                      Yes.\n\n  _Third Young King._ Barach and blind Fintain.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ They always flock together; the blind man\n  Has need of the fool\u2019s eyesight and strong body,\n  While the poor fool has need of the other\u2019s wit,\n  And night and day is up to his ears in mischief\n  That the blind man imagines. There\u2019s no hen-yard\n  But clucks and cackles when he passes by\n  As if he\u2019d been a fox. If I\u2019d that ball\n  That\u2019s in your hair and the big stone again,\n  I\u2019d keep them tossing, though the one is heavy\n  And the other light in the hand. A trick I learnt\n  When I was learning arms in Aoife\u2019s country.\n\n  _First Young King._ What kind of woman was that Aoife?\n\n  _Cuchullain._                                          Comely.\n\n  _First Young King._ But I have heard that she was never married,\n  And yet that\u2019s natural, for I have never known\n  A fighting woman, but made her favours cheap,\n  Or mocked at love till she grew sandy dry.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ What manner of woman do you like the best?\n  A gentle or a fierce?\n\n  _First Young King._   A gentle, surely.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ I think that a fierce woman\u2019s better, a woman\n  That breaks away when you have thought her won,\n  For I\u2019d be fed and hungry at one time.\n  I think that all deep passion is but a kiss\n  In the mid battle, and a difficult peace\n  \u2019Twixt oil and water, candles and dark night,\n  Hill-side and hollow, the hot-footed sun,\n  And the cold sliding slippery-footed moon,\n  A brief forgiveness between opposites\n  That have been hatreds for three times the age\n  Of this long \u2019stablished ground. Here\u2019s Concobar;\n  So I\u2019ll be done, but keep beside me still,\n  For while he talks of hammered bronze and asks\n  What wood is best for building, we can talk\n  Of a fierce woman.\n\n    [_CONCOBAR, a man much older than CUCHULLAIN, has come in through\n    the great door at the back. He has many KINGS about him. One of\n    these KINGS, DAIRE, a stout old man, is somewhat drunk._\n\n  _Concobar._ [_To one of those about him._] Has the ship gone yet?\n  We have need of more bronze workers, and that ship\n  I sent to Africa for gold is late.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ I knew their talk.\n\n  _Concobar._ [_Seeing CUCHULLAIN._] You are before us, King.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ So much the better, for I welcome you\n  Into my Muirthemne.\n\n  _Concobar._         But who are these?\n  The odour from their garments when they stir\n  Is like a wind out of an apple garden.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ My swordsmen and harp players and fine dancers,\n  My bosom friends.\n\n  _Concobar._ I should have thought, Cuchullain,\n  My graver company would better match\n  Your greatness and your years; but I waste breath\n  In harping on that tale.\n\n  _Cuchullain._            You do, great King.\n  Because their youth is the kind wandering wave\n  That carries me about the world; and if it sank,\n  My sword would lose its lightness.\n\n  _Concobar._                        Yet, Cuchullain,\n  Emain should be the foremost town of the world.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ It is the foremost town.\n\n  _Concobar._                            No, no, it\u2019s not.\n  Nothing but men can make towns great, and he,\n  The one over-topping man that\u2019s in the world,\n  Keeps far away.\n\n  _Daire._        He will not hear you, King,\n  And we old men had best keep company\n  With one another. I\u2019ll fill the horn for you.\n\n  _Concobar._ I will not drink, old fool. You have drunk a horn\n  At every door we came to.\n\n  _Daire._                  You\u2019d better drink,\n  For old men light upon their youth again\n  In the brown ale. When I have drunk enough,\n  I am like Cuchullain as one pea another,\n  And live like a bird\u2019s flight from tree to tree.\n\n  _Concobar._ We\u2019ll to our chairs for we have much to talk of,\n  And we have Ullad and Muirthemne, and here\n  Is Conall Muirthemne in the nick of time.\n\n    [_He goes to the back of stage to welcome a company of KINGS who\n    come in through the great door. The other KINGS gradually get into\n    their places. CUCHULLAIN sits in his great chair with certain of the\n    young men standing around him. Others of the young men, however,\n    remain with DAIRE at the ale vat. DAIRE holds out the horn of ale to\n    one or two of the older KINGS as they pass him going to their\n    places. They pass him by, most of them silently refusing._\n\n  _Daire._ Will you not drink?\n\n  _An Old King._               Not till the council\u2019s over.\n\n  _A Young King._ But I\u2019ll drink, Daire.\n\n  _Another Young King._ Fill me a horn too, Daire.\n\n  _Another Young King._ If I\u2019d drunk half that you have drunk to-day,\n  I\u2019d be upon all fours.\n\n  _Daire._               That would be natural\n  When Mother Earth had given you this good milk\n  From her great breasts.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ [_To one of the YOUNG KINGS beside him._]\n                          One is content awhile\n  With a soft warm woman who folds up our lives\n  In silky network. Then, one knows not why,\n  But one\u2019s away after a flinty heart.\n\n  _The Young King._ How long can the net keep us?\n\n  _Cuchullain._                                   All our lives\n  If there are children, and a dozen moons\n  If there are none, because a growing child\n  Has so much need of watching it can make\n  A passion that\u2019s as changeable as the sea\n  Change till it holds the wide earth to its heart.\n  At least I have heard a father say it, but I\n  Being childless do not know it. Come nearer yet;\n  Though he is ringing that old silver rod\n  We\u2019ll have our own talk out. They cannot hear us.\n\n    [_CONCOBAR who is now seated in his great chair, opposite\n    CUCHULLAIN, beats upon the pillar of the house that is nearest to\n    him with a rod of silver, till the KINGS have become silent.\n    CUCHULLAIN alone continues to talk in a low voice to those about\n    him, but not so loud as to disturb the silence. CONCOBAR rises and\n    speaks standing._\n\n  _Concobar._ I have called you hither, Kings of Ullad, and Kings\n  Of Muirthemne and Connall Muirthemne,\n  And tributary Kings, for now there is peace--\n  It\u2019s time to build up Emain that was burned\n  At the outsetting of these wars; for we,\n  Being the foremost men, should have high chairs\n  And be much stared at and wondered at, and speak\n  Out of more laughing overflowing hearts\n  Than common men. It is the art of kings\n  To make what\u2019s noble nobler in men\u2019s eyes\n  By wide uplifted roofs, where beaten gold,\n  That\u2019s ruddy with desire, marries pale silver\n  Among the shadowing beams; and many a time\n  I would have called you hither to this work,\n  But always, when I\u2019d all but summoned you,\n  Some war or some rebellion would break out.\n\n  _Daire._ Where\u2019s Maine Morgor and old Usnach\u2019s children,\n  And that high-headed even-walking Queen,\n  And many near as great that got their death\n  Because you hated peace? I can remember\n  The people crying out when Deirdre passed\n  And Maine Morgor had a cold gray eye.\n  Well, well, I\u2019ll throw this heel-tap on the ground,\n  For it may be they are thirsty.\n\n  _A King._                       Be silent, fool.\n\n  _Another King._ Be silent, Daire.\n\n  _Concobar._                       Let him speak his mind.\n  I have no need to be afraid of ghosts,\n  For I have made but necessary wars.\n  I warred to strengthen Emain, or because\n  When wars are out they marry and beget\n  And have their generations like mankind\n  And there\u2019s no help for it; but I\u2019m well content\n  That they have ended and left the town so great,\n  That its mere name shall be in times to come\n  Like a great ale vat where the men of the world\n  Shall drink no common ale but the hard will,\n  The unquenchable hope, the friendliness of the sword.\n\n    [_He takes thin boards on which plans have been carved by those\n    about him._\n\n  Give me the building plans, and have you written\n  That we--Cuchullain is looking in his shield;\n  It may be the pale riders of the wind\n  Throw pictures on it, or that Mananan,\n  His father\u2019s friend and sometime fosterer,\n  Foreknower of all things, has cast a vision,\n  Out of the cold dark of the rich sea,\n  Foretelling Emain\u2019s greatness.\n\n  _Cuchullain._                  No, great King,\n  I looked on this out of mere idleness,\n  Imagining a far-off country and one\n  That held it with a sword, although a woman.\n\n  _Concobar._ A woman needs but laugh, or a friend sigh,\n  And you\u2019re afar off sounding through the world,\n  While I plan Emain\u2019s greatness.\n\n    [_The sound of a trumpet without._\n\n                                  Open the doors!\n  I hear a herald\u2019s trumpet, and await,\n  It may be, the heavy fleeces of the sea\n  And golden and silver apples or ancient crowns\n  Long hidden in the well at the World\u2019s End,\n  Or glittering garments of the salmon, tributes\n  From the Great Plain, or the high people of Sorcha,\n  Or the walled garden in the east of the world.\n\n    [_The great door at the back is flung open; a YOUNG MAN, who is\n    fully armed and carries a shield with a woman\u2019s head painted on it,\n    stands upon the threshold. Behind him are trumpeters. He walks into\n    the centre of the hall, the trumpeting ceases._\n\n  What is your message?\n\n  _Young Man._          I am of Aoife\u2019s army.\n\n  _First King._ Queen Aoife and her army have fallen upon us.\n\n  _Second King._ Out swords! Out swords!\n\n  _Third King._ They are about the house.\n\n  _Fourth King._ Rush out! Rush out! Before they have fired the thatch.\n\n  _Young Man._ Aoife is far away. I am alone.\n  I have come alone in the midst of you\n  To weigh this sword against Cuchullain\u2019s sword.\n\n    [_There is a murmur amongst the KINGS._\n\n  _Concobar._ And are you noble? for if of common seed\n  You cannot weigh your sword against his sword\n  But in mixed battle.\n\n  _Young Man._         I am under bonds\n  To tell my name to no man, but it\u2019s noble.\n\n  _Concobar._ But I would know your name and not your bonds.\n  You cannot speak in the Assembly House\n  If you are not noble.\n\n  _A King._             Answer the High King.\n\n  _Young Man._ [_Drawing his sword._]\n  I will give no other proof than the hawk gives\n  That it\u2019s no sparrow.\n\n    [_He is silent a moment, then speaks to all._\n\n                        Yet look upon me, Kings;\n  I too am of that ancient seed and carry\n  The signs about this body and in these bones.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ To have shown the hawk\u2019s gray feather is enough,\n  And you speak highly too.\n\n    [_CUCHULLAIN comes down from his great chair. He remains standing on\n    the steps of the chair. The YOUNG KINGS gather about him and begin\n    to arm him._\n\n                            Give me that helmet!\n  I\u2019d thought they had grown weary sending champions.\n  That leathern coat will do. The High King there\n  Being old in wisdom can think of times to come,\n  But the hawk\u2019s sleepy till its well-beloved\n  Cries out amid the acorns, or it has seen\n  Its enemy like a speck upon the sun.\n  What\u2019s Emain to the hawk when that clear eye\n  Is burning nearer up in the high air?\n  That buckle should be tighter. Give me your shield.\n  There is good level ground at Baile\u2019s Yew-tree,\n  Some dozen yards from here, and it\u2019s but truth\n  That I am sad to-day and this fight welcome.\n\n    [_He looks hard at the YOUNG MAN, and then steps down on the floor\n    of the Assembly House. He grasps the YOUNG MAN by the shoulder._\n\n  Hither into the light.\n\n    [_Turning to one of the YOUNG KINGS._\n\n                         The very tint\n  Of her that I was speaking of but now:\n  Not a pin\u2019s difference.\n\n    [_To the YOUNG MAN._\n\n                          You are from the North,\n  Where there are many that have that tint of hair,\n  Red-brown, the light red-brown. Come nearer, boy!\n  For I would have another look at you.\n  There\u2019s more likeness, a pale, a stone pale cheek.\n  What brought you, boy? Have you no fear of death?\n\n  _Young Man._ Whether I live or die is in the Gods\u2019 hands.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ That is all words, all words, a young man\u2019s talk;\n  I am their plough, their harrow, their very strength,\n  For he that\u2019s in the sun begot this body\n  Upon a mortal woman, and I have heard tell\n  It seemed as if he had outrun the moon,\n  That he must always follow through waste heaven,\n  He loved so happily. He\u2019ll be but slow\n  To break a tree that was so sweetly planted.\n  Let\u2019s see that arm; I\u2019ll see it if I like.\n  That arm had a good father and a good mother,\n  But it is not like this.\n\n  _Young Man._             You are mocking me.\n  You think I am not worthy to be fought,\n  But I\u2019ll not wrangle but with this talkative knife.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Put up your sword, I am not mocking you.\n  I\u2019d have you for my friend, but if it\u2019s not\n  Because you have a hot heart and a cold eye\n  I cannot tell the reason. You\u2019ve got her fierceness,\n  And nobody is as fierce as those pale women.\n\n    [_To the YOUNG KINGS._\n\n  We\u2019ll keep him here in Muirthemne awhile.\n\n  _A Young King._ You are the leader of our pack and therefore\n  May cry what you will.\n\n  _Cuchullain._          You\u2019ll stop with us\n  And we will hunt the deer and the wild bulls,\n  And, when we have grown weary, light our fires\n  In sandy places where the wool-white foam\n  Is murmuring and breaking, and it may be\n  That long-haired women will come out of the dunes\n  To dance in the yellow fire-light. You hang your head,\n  Young man, as if it was not a good life;\n  And yet what\u2019s better than to hurl the spear,\n  And hear the long-remembering harp, and dance?\n  Friendship grows quicker in the murmuring dark;\n  But I can see there\u2019s no more need for words\n  And that you\u2019ll be my friend now.\n\n  _First Old King._                 Concobar,\n  Forbid their friendship, for it will get twisted\n  To a reproach against us.\n\n  _Concobar._               Until now\n  I\u2019d never need to cry Cuchullain on\n  And would not now.\n\n  _First Old King._ They\u2019ll say his manhood\u2019s quenched.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ I\u2019ll give you gifts, but I\u2019ll have something too,\n  An arm-ring or the like, and if you will\n  We\u2019ll fight it out when you are older, boy.\n\n  _An Old King._ Aoife will make some story out of this.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Well, well, what matter, I\u2019ll have that arm-ring, boy.\n\n  _Young Man._ There is no man I\u2019d sooner have my friend\n  Than you whose name has gone about the world\n  As if it had been the wind, but Aoife\u2019d say\n  I had turned coward.\n\n  _Cuchullain._        I\u2019ll give you gifts\n  That Aoife\u2019ll know and all her people know\n  To have been my gifts. Mananan, son of the sea,\n  Gave me this heavy embroidered cloak. Nine Queens\n  Of the Land-under-Wave had woven it\n  Out of the fleeces of the sea. O! tell her\n  I was afraid, or tell her what you will.\n  No! tell her that I heard a raven croak\n  On the north side of the house and was afraid.\n\n  _An Old King._ Some witch of the air has troubled Cuchullain\u2019s mind.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ No witchcraft, his head is like a woman\u2019s head\n  I had a fancy for.\n\n  _Second Old King._ A witch of the air\n  Can make a leaf confound us with memories.\n  They have gone to school to learn the trick of it.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ But there\u2019s no trick in this. That arm-ring, boy.\n\n  _Third Old King._ He shall not go unfought, I\u2019ll fight with him.\n\n  _Fourth Old King._ No! I will fight with him.\n\n  _First Old King._ I claim the fight,\n  For when we sent an army to her land----\n\n  _Second Old King._ I claim the fight, for one of Aoife\u2019s galleys\n  Stole my great cauldron and a herd of pigs.\n\n  _Third Old King._ No, no, I claim it, for at Lammas\u2019 time----\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Back! Back! Put up your swords! Put up your swords!\n  There\u2019s none alive that shall accept a challenge\n  I have refused. Laegaire, put up your sword.\n\n  _Young Man._ No, let them come, let any three together.\n  If they\u2019ve a mind to, I\u2019ll try it out with four.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ That\u2019s spoken as I\u2019d spoken it at your age,\n  But you are in my house. Whatever man\n  Would fight with you shall fight it out with me.\n  They\u2019re dumb. They\u2019re dumb. How many of you would meet\n\n    [_Drawing his sword._\n\n  This mutterer, this old whistler, this sandpiper,\n  This edge that\u2019s grayer than the tide, this mouse\n  That\u2019s gnawing at the timbers of the world,\n  This, this--Boy, I would meet them all in arms\n  If I\u2019d a son like you. He would avenge me\n  When I have withstood for the last time the men\n  Whose fathers, brothers, sons, and friends I have killed\n  Upholding Ullad; when the four provinces\n  Have gathered with the ravens over them.\n  But I\u2019d need no avenger. You and I\n  Would scatter them like water from a dish.\n\n  _Young Man._ We\u2019ll stand by one another from this out.\n  Here is the ring.\n\n  _Cuchullain._     No, turn and turn about,\n  But my turn is first, because I am the older.\n  Cliodna embroidered these bird wings, but Fand\n  Made all these little golden eyes with the hairs\n  That she had stolen out of Aengus\u2019 beard,\n  And therefore none that has this cloak about him\n  Is crossed in love. The heavy inlaid brooch\n  That Buan hammered has a merit too.\n\n    [_He begins spreading the cloak out on a bench, showing it to the\n    YOUNG MAN. Suddenly CONCOBAR beats with his silver rod on a pillar\n    beside his chair. All turn towards him._\n\n  _Concobar._ [_In a loud voice._]\n  No more of that, I will not have this friendship.\n  Cuchullain is my man and I forbid it;\n  He shall not go unfought for I myself----\n\n  _Cuchullain._ [_Seizing CONCOBAR._]\n  You shall not stir, High King, I\u2019ll hold you there.\n\n  _Concobar._ Witchcraft has maddened you.\n\n  _The Kings._ [_Shouting._] Yes, witchcraft, witchcraft.\n\n  _A King._ You saw another\u2019s head upon his shoulders\n  All of a sudden, a woman\u2019s head, Cuchullain.\n  Then raised your hand against the King of Ullad.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ [_Letting CONCOBAR go, and looking wildly about him._]\n  Yes, yes, all of a sudden, all of a sudden.\n\n  _Daire._ Why, there\u2019s no witchcraft in it, I myself\n  Have made a hundred of these sudden friendships\n  And fought it out next day. But that was folly,\n  For now that I am old I know it is best\n  To live in comfort.\n\n  _A King._           Pull the fool away!\n\n  _Daire._ I\u2019ll throw a heel-tap to the one that dies.\n\n  _Concobar._ Some witch is floating in the air above us.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Yes, witchcraft, witchcraft and the power of witchcraft.\n\n    [_To the YOUNG MAN._\n\n  Why did you do it? was it Calatin\u2019s daughters?\n  Out, out, I say, for now it\u2019s sword on sword.\n\n  _Young Man._ But, but, I did not.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Out, I say, out, out!\n  Sword upon sword.\n\n    [_He goes towards the door at back, followed by YOUNG MAN. He\n    turns on the threshold and cries out, looking at the YOUNG MAN._\n\n  That hair my hands were drowned in!\n\n    [_He goes out, followed by YOUNG MAN. The other KINGS begin to\n    follow them out._\n\n  _A King._ I saw him fight with Ferdiad.\n\n  _Second King._                          We\u2019ll be too late,\n  They\u2019re such a long time getting through the door.\n\n  _Third King._ Run quicker, quicker.\n\n  _Daire._                            I was at the Smith\u2019s\n  When he that was the boy Setanta then----\n\n    [_Sound, of fighting outside._\n\n  _Third King._ He will have killed him.\n  They have begun the fight!\n\n    [_They all go out, leaving the house silent and empty. There is a\n    pause during which one hears the clashing of the swords. BARACH and\n    FINTAIN come in from side door. BARACH is dragging FINTAIN._\n\n_Barach._ You have eaten it, you have eaten it, you have left me nothing\nbut the bones.\n\n_Fintain._ O, that I should have to endure such a plague. O, I ache all\nover. O, I am pulled in pieces. This is the way you pay me for all the\ngood I have done you!\n\n_Barach._ You have eaten it, you have told me lies about a wild dog.\nNobody has seen a wild dog about the place this twelve month. Lie there\ntill the Kings come. O, I will tell Concobar and Cuchullain and all the\nKings about you!\n\n_Fintain._ What would have happened to you but for me, and you without\nyour wits? If I did not take care of you what would you do for food and\nwarmth?\n\n_Barach._ You take care of me? You stay safe and send me into every kind\nof danger. You sent me down the cliff for gull\u2019s eggs while you warmed\nyour blind eyes in the sun. And then you ate all that were good for\nfood. You left me the eggs that were neither egg nor bird. [_The blind\nman tries to rise. BARACH makes him lie down again._] Keep quiet now\ntill I shut the door. There is some noise outside. There are swords\ncrossing; a high vexing noise so that I can\u2019t be listening to myself.\n[_He goes to the big door at the back and shuts it._] Why can\u2019t they be\nquiet, why can\u2019t they be quiet! Ah, you would get away, would you? [_He\nfollows the blind man who has been crawling along the wall and makes him\nlie down close to the KING\u2019S chair._] Lie there, lie there. No, you\nwon\u2019t get away. Lie there till the Kings come, I\u2019ll tell them all about\nyou. I shall tell it all. How you sit warming yourself, when you have\nmade me light a fire of sticks, while I sit blowing it with my mouth. Do\nyou not always make me take the windy side of the bush when it blows and\nthe rainy side when it rains?\n\n_Fintain._ O good fool, listen to me. Think of the care I have taken of\nyou. I have brought you to many a warm hearth, where there was a good\nwelcome for you, but you would not stay there, you were always wandering\nabout.\n\n_Barach._ The last time you brought me in, it was not I who wandered\naway, but you that got put out because you took the crubeen out of the\npot, when you thought nobody was looking. Keep quiet now, keep quiet\ntill I shut the door. Here is Cuchullain, now you will be beaten. I am\ngoing to tell him everything.\n\n_Cuchullain._ [_Comes in and says to the fool._] Give me that horn.\n\n    [_The fool gives him a horn which CUCHULLAIN fills with ale and\n    drinks._\n\n_Fintain._ Do not listen to him, listen to me.\n\n_Cuchullain._ What are you wrangling over?\n\n_Barach._ He is fat and good for nothing. He has left me the bones and\nthe feathers.\n\n_Cuchullain._ What feathers?\n\n_Barach._ I left him turning a fowl at the fire. He ate it all. He left\nme nothing but the bones and feathers.\n\n_Fintain._ Do not believe him. You do not know how vain this fool is. I\ngave him the feathers, because I thought he would like nothing so well.\n\n    [_BARACH is sitting on a bench playing with a heap of feathers,\n    which he has taken out of the breast of his coat._\n\n  _Barach._ [_Singing._] When you were an acorn on the tree top----\n\n_Fintain._ Where would he be but for me? I must be always thinking,\nthinking to get food for the two of us, and when we\u2019ve got it, if the\nmoon\u2019s at the full or the tide on the turn, he\u2019ll leave the rabbit in\nits snare till it is full of maggots, or let the trout slip through his\nhands back into the water.\n\n  _Barach._ [_Singing._] When you were an acorn on the tree top,\n  Then was I an eagle cock;\n  Now that you are a withered old block,\n  Still am I an eagle cock!\n\n_Fintain._ Listen to him now! That\u2019s the sort of talk I have to put up\nwith, day out day in.\n\n    [_The fool is putting the feathers into his hair. CUCHULLAIN takes a\n    handful of feathers out of the heap and out of the fool\u2019s hair, and\n    begins to wipe the blood from his sword with them._\n\n_Barach._ He has taken my feathers to wipe his sword. It is blood that\nhe is wiping from his sword!\n\n_Fintain._ Whose blood? Whose blood?\n\n_Cuchullain._ That young champion\u2019s.\n\n_Fintain._ He that came out of Aoife\u2019s country?\n\n_Cuchullain._ The Kings are standing round his body.\n\n_Fintain._ Did he fight long?\n\n_Cuchullain._ He thought to have saved himself with witchcraft.\n\n_Barach._ That blind man there said he would kill you. He came from\nAoife\u2019s country to kill you. That blind man said they had taught him\nevery kind of weapon that he might do it. But I always knew that you\nwould kill him.\n\n_Cuchullain._ [_To the blind man._] You knew him, then?\n\n_Fintain._ I saw him when I had my eyes, in Aoife\u2019s country.\n\n_Cuchullain._ You were in Aoife\u2019s country?\n\n_Fintain._ I knew him and his mother there.\n\n_Cuchullain._ He was about to speak of her when he died.\n\n_Fintain._ He was a Queen\u2019s son.\n\n_Cuchullain._ What Queen, what Queen? [_He seizes the blind man._] Was\nit Scathach? There were many Queens. All the rulers were Queens.\n\n_Fintain._ No, not Scathach.\n\n_Cuchullain._ It was Uathach, then. Speak, speak!\n\n_Fintain._ I cannot speak, you are clutching me too tightly.\n[_CUCHULLAIN lets him go._] I cannot remember who it was. I am not\ncertain. It was some Queen.\n\n_Barach._ He said a while ago that the young man was Aoife\u2019s son.\n\n_Cuchullain._ She? No, no, she had no son when I was there.\n\n_Barach._ That blind man there said that she owned him for her son.\n\n_Cuchullain._ I had rather he had been some other woman\u2019s son. What\nfather had he? A soldier out of Alba? She was an amorous woman, a proud,\npale amorous woman.\n\n_Fintain._ None knew whose son he was.\n\n_Cuchullain._ None knew? Did you know, old listener at doors?\n\n_Fintain._ No, no, I knew nothing.\n\n_Barach._ He said a while ago that he heard Aoife boast that she\u2019d never\nbut the one lover, and he the only man that had overcome her in battle.\n\n    [_A pause._\n\n_Fintain._ Somebody is trembling. Why are you trembling, fool? the bench\nis shaking, why are you trembling? Is Cuchullain going to hurt us? It\nwas not I who told you, Cuchullain.\n\n_Barach._ It is Cuchullain who is trembling. He is shaking the bench\nwith his knees.\n\n_Cuchullain._ He was my son, and I have killed my son.\n\n    [_A pause._\n\n  \u2019Twas they that did it, the pale windy people,\n  Where, where, where? My sword against the thunder.\n  But no, for they have always been my friends;\n  And though they love to blow a smoking coal\n  Till it\u2019s all flame, the wars they blow aflame\n  Are full of glory, and heart uplifting pride,\n  And not like this; the wars they love awaken\n  Old fingers and the sleepy strings of harps.\n  Who did it then? Are you afraid; speak out,\n  For I have put you under my protection\n  And will reward you well. Dubthach the Chafer.\n  He had an old grudge. No, for he is with Maeve.\n  Laegaire did it. Why do you not speak?\n  What is this house? [_A pause._] Now I remember all.\n\n  _Fintain._ He will kill us. O, I am afraid!\n\n  _Cuchullain._ [_Who is before CONCOBAR\u2019S chair._]\n  \u2019Twas you who did it, you who sat up there\n  With that old branch of silver, like a magpie\n  Nursing a stolen spoon. Magpie, magpie,\n  A maggot that is eating up the earth!\n\n    [_Begins hacking at the chair with his sword._\n\n  No, but a magpie, for he\u2019s flown away.\n  Where did he fly to?\n\n  _Fintain._           He is outside the door.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Outside the door?\n\n  _Fintain._                      He is under Baile\u2019s yew-tree.\n\n  _Cuchullain._ Concobar, Concobar, the sword into your heart.\n\n    [_He goes out. A pause. The fool goes to the great door at back and\n    looks out after him._\n\n_Barach._ He is going up to King Concobar; they are all under the tree.\nNo, no, he is standing still. There is a great wave going to break and\nhe is looking at it. Ah! now he is running down to the sea, but he is\nholding up his sword as if he were going into a fight. [_A pause._] Well\nstruck, well struck!\n\n_Fintain._ What is he doing now?\n\n_Barach._ Oh! he is fighting the waves.\n\n_Fintain._ He sees King Concobar\u2019s crown on every one of them.\n\n_Barach._ There, he has struck at a big one. He has struck the crown off\nit, he has made the foam fly. There again another big one.\n\n    [_Shouting without._\n\n_Fintain._ Where are the Kings? What are the Kings doing?\n\n_Barach._ They are shouting and running down to the shore, and the\npeople are running out of the houses, they are all running.\n\n_Fintain._ You say they are running out of the houses, there will be\nnobody left in the houses. Listen, fool.\n\n_Barach._ There, he is down! He is up again! He is going out into the\ndeep water.\n\n_Fintain._ Come here, fool; come here, I say.\n\n_Barach._ [_Coming towards him but looking backward towards the door._]\nWhat is it?\n\n_Fintain._ There will be nobody in the houses. Come this way, come\nquickly; the ovens will be full; we will put our hands into the ovens.\n\n[_They go out._\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n  CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.\n  TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\nPunctuation has been standardised. Spelling and hyphenation have been\npreserved as printed.","title":"The King's Threshold; and On Baile's Strand","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":14899}