Read The Plough and the Stars Online
Authors: Sean O'Casey
Fluther
(
more loudly still
) There’s no necessity to be raisin’ your voice; shoutin’s no manifestin’ forth of a growin’ mind.
Peter
(
struggling with his collar
) God, give me patience with this thing … She makes these collars as stiff with starch as a shinin’ band o’ solid steel! She does it
purposely to thry an’ twart me. If I can’t get it on th’ singlet, how, in th’ Name o’ God, am I goin’ to get it on th’ shirt?
The Covey
(
loudly
) There’s no use o’ arguin’ with you; it’s education you want, comrade.
Fluther
The Covey an’ God made th’ world, I suppose, wha’?
The Covey
When I hear some men talkin’ I’m inclined to disbelieve that th’ world’s eight-hundhred million years old, for it’s not long since th’ fathers o’ some o’ them crawled out o’ th’ sheltherin’ slime o’ the sea.
Mrs Gogan
(
from room at back
) There, they’re afther formin’ fours, an’ now they’re goin’ to march away.
Fluther
(
scornfully
) Mollycewels! (
He begins to untie his apron
.) What about Adam an’ Eve?
The Covey
Well, what about them?
Fluther
(
fiercely
) What about them, you?
The Covey
Adam an’ Eve! Is that as far as you’ve got? Are you still thinkin’ there was nobody in th’ world before Adam an’ Eve? (
Loudly
) Did you ever hear, man, of th’ skeleton of th’ man o’ Java?
Peter
(
casting the collar from him
) Blast it, blast it, blast it!
Fluther
(
viciously folding his apron
) Ah, you’re not goin’ to be let tap your rubbidge o’ thoughts into th’ mind o’ Fluther.
The Covey
You’re afraid to listen to th’ thruth!
Fluther
Who’s afraid?
The Covey
You are!
Fluther
G’way, you wurum!
The Covey
Who’s a wurum?
Fluther
You are, or you wouldn’t talk th’ way you’re talkin’.
The Covey
Th’ oul’, ignorant savage leppin’ up in you, when science shows you that th’ head of your god is an empty one. Well, I hope you’re enjoyin’ th’ blessin’ o’ havin’ to live be th’ sweat of your brow.
Fluther
You’ll be kickin’ an’ yellin’ for th’ priest yet, me boyo. I’m not goin’ to stand silent an’ simple listenin’ to a thick like you makin’ a maddenin’ mockery o’ God Almighty. It ’ud be a nice derogatory thing on me conscience’ an’ me dyin’, to look back in rememberin’ shame of talkin’ to a word-weavin’ little ignorant yahoo of a red flag Socialist!
Mrs Gogan has returned to the front room, and has wandered around looking at things in general, and is now in front of the fireplace looking at the picture hanging over it.
Mrs Gogan
For God’s sake, Fluther, dhrop it; there’s always th’ makin’s of a row in th’ mention of religion … (
Looking at picture
) God bless us, it’s a naked woman!
Fluther
(
coming over to look at it
) What’s undher it? (
Reading
) ‘Georgina: The Sleepin’ Vennis’. Oh, that’s a terrible picture; oh, that’s a shockin’ picture! Oh, th’ one that got that taken, she must have been a prime lassie!
Peter
(
who also has come over to look, laughing, with his body bent at the waist, and his head slightly tilted back
) Hee, hee, hee, hee, hee!
Fluther
(
indignantly, to Peter
) What are you hee, hee-in’ for? That’s a nice thing to be hee, hee-in’ at. Where’s your morality, man?
Mrs Gogan
God forgive us, it’s not right to be lookin’ at it.
Fluther
It’s nearly a derogatory thing to be in th’ room where it is.
Mrs Gogan
(
giggling hysterically
) I couldn’t stop any longer in th’ same room with three men, afther lookin’ at it!
She goes out. The Covey, who has divested himself of his dungarees, throws them with a contemptuous motion on top of Peter’s white shirt.
Peter
(
plaintively
) Where are you throwin’ them? Are you thryin’ to twart an’ torment me again?
The Covey
Who’s thryin’ to twart you?
Peter
(
flinging the dungarees violently on the floor
) You’re not goin’ to make me lose me temper, me young Covey.
The Covey
(
flinging the white shirt on the floor
) If you’re Nora’s pet, aself, you’re not goin’ to get your way in everything.
Peter
(
plaintively, with his eyes looking up at the ceiling
) I’ll say nothin’ … I’ll leave you to th’ day when th’ all-pitiful, all-merciful, all-lovin’ God ’ll be handin’ you to th’ angels to be rievin’ an’ roastin’ you, tearin’ an’ tormentin’ you, burnin’ an’ blastin’ you!
The Covey
Aren’t you th’ little malignant oul’ bastard, you lemon-whiskered oul’ swine!
Peter runs to the sword, draws it, and makes for the Covey, who dodges him around the table; Peter has no intention of striking, but the Covey wants to take no chances.
(
Dodging
) Fluther, hold him, there. It’s a nice thing to have a lunatic like this lashin’ around with a lethal weapon! (
The Covey darts out of the room, right, slamming the door in the face of Peter
.)
Peter
(
battering and pulling at the door
) Lemme out, lemme out; isn’t it a poor thing for a man who wouldn’t say a word against his greatest enemy to have to listen to that Covey’s twartin’ animosities, shovin’ poor, patient people into a lashin’ out of curses that darken his soul with th’ shadow of th’ wrath of th’ last day!
Fluther
Why d’ye take notice of him? If he seen you didn’t, he’d say nothin’ derogatory.
Peter
I’ll make him stop his laughin’ an’ leerin’, jibin’ an’ jeerin’ an’ scarifyin’ people with his corner-boy insinuations! … He’s always thryin’ to rouse me: if it’s not a song, it’s a whistle; if it isn’t a whistle, it’s a cough. But you can taunt an’ taunt – I’m laughin’ at you; he, hee, hee, hee, hee, heee!
The Covey
(
singing through the keyhole
)
Dear harp o’ me counthry, in darkness I found thee,
The dark chain of silence had hung o’er thee long –
Peter
(
frantically
) Jasus, d’ye hear that? D’ye hear him soundin’ forth his divil-souled song o’ provocation?
The Covey
(
singing as before
)
When proudly, me own island harp, I unbound thee,
An’ gave all thy chords to light, freedom an’ song!
Peter
(
battering the door
) When I get out I’ll do for you, I’ll do for you, I’ll do for you!
The Covey
(
through the keyhole
) Cuckoo-oo!
Nora enters by door, right. She is a young woman of twenty-two, alert, swift, full of nervous energy, and a
little anxious to get on in the world. The firm lines of her face are considerably opposed by a soft, amorous mouth and gentle eyes. When her firmness fails her, she persuades with her feminine charm. She is dressed in a tailor-made costume, and wears around her neck a silver fox fur.
Nora
(
running in and pushing Peter away from the door
) Oh, can I not turn me back but th’ two o’ yous are at it like a pair o’ fightin’ cocks! Uncle Peter … Uncle Peter … UNCLE PETER!
Peter
(
vociferously
) Oh, Uncle Peter, Uncle Peter be damned! D’ye think I’m goin’ to give a free pass to th’ young Covey to turn me whole life into a Holy Manual o’ penances an’ martyrdoms?
The Covey
(
angrily rushing into the room
) If you won’t exercise some sort o’ conthrol over that Uncle Peter o’ yours, there’ll be a funeral, an’ it won’t be me that’ll be in th’ hearse!
Nora
(
between Peter and the Covey, to the Covey
) Are yous always goin’ to be tearin’ down th’ little bit of respectability that a body’s thryin’ to build up? Am I always goin’ to be havin’ to nurse yous into th’ hardy habit o’ thryin’ to keep up a little bit of appearance?
The Covey
Why weren’t you here to see th’ way he run at me with th’ sword?
Peter
What did you call me a lemon-whiskered oul’ swine for?
Nora
If th’ two o’ yous don’t thry to make a generous altheration in your goin’s on, an’ keep on thryin’ t’ inaugurate th’ customs o’ th’ rest o’ th’ house into this place, yous can flit into other lodgin’s where your bowsey battlin’ ’ll meet, maybe, with an encore.
Peter
(
to Nora
) Would you like to be called a lemonwhiskered oul’ swine?
Nora
If you attempt to wag that sword of yours at anybody again, it’ll have to be taken off you an’ put in a safe place away from babies that don’t know th’ danger o’ them things.
Peter
(
at entrance to room, back
) Well, I’m not goin’ to let anybody call me a lemon-whiskered oul’ swine. (
He goes in.
)
Fluther
(
trying the door
) Openin’ an’ shuttin’ now with a well-mannered motion, like a door of a select bar in a high-class pub.
Nora
(
to the Covey, as she lays table for tea
) An’, once for all, Willie, you’ll have to thry to deliver yourself from th’ desire of provokin’ oul’ Pether into a wild forgetfulness of what’s proper an’ allowable in a respectable home.
The Covey
Well, let him mind his own business, then. Yestherday, I caught him hee-hee-in’ out of him an’ he readin’ bits out of Jenersky’s
Thesis on th’ Origin, Development, an’ Consolidation of th’ Evolutionary Idea of th’ Proletariat.
Nora
Now, let it end at that, for God’s sake; Jack’ll be in any minute, an’ I’m not goin’ to have th’ quiet of this evenin’ tossed about in an everlastin’ uproar between you an’ Uncle Pether. (To
Fluther
) Well, did you manage to settle th’ lock, yet, Mr Good?
Fluther
(
opening and shutting door
) It’s betther than a new one, now, Mrs Clitheroe; it’s almost ready to open and shut of its own accord.
Nora
(
giving him a coin
) You’re a whole man. How many pints will that get you?
Fluther
(
seriously
) Ne’er a one at all, Mrs Clitheroe, for Fluther’s on th’ wather waggon now. You could stan’ where you’re stannin’ chantin’, ‘Have a glass o’ malt, Fluther; Fluther, have a glass o’ malt,’ till th’ bells would be ringin’ th’ ould year out an’ th’ New Year in, an’ you’d have as much chance o’ movin’ Fluther as a tune on a tin whistle would move a deaf man an’ he dead.
As Nora is opening and shutting door, Mrs Bessie Burgess appears at it. She is a woman of forty, vigorously built. Her face is a dogged one, hardened by toil, and a little coarsened by drink. She looks scornfully and viciously at Nora for a few moments before she speaks.
Bessie
Puttin’ a new lock on her door … afraid her poor neighbours ud break through an’ steal … (
In a loud tone
) Maybe, now, they’re a damn sight more honest than your ladyship … checkin’ th’ children playin’ on th’ stairs … gettin’ on th’ nerves of your ladyship … Complainin’ about Bessie Burgess singin’ her hymns at night, when she has a few up … (
She comes in half-way on the threshold, and screams
.) Bessie Burgess’ll sing whenever she damn well likes!
Nora tries to shut door, but Bessie violently shoves it in, and, gripping Nora by the shoulders, shakes her.
You little over-dressed throllope, you, for one pin I’d paste th’ white face o’ you!
Nora
(
frightened
) Fluther, Fluther!
Fluther
(
running over and breaking the hold of Bessie from Nora
) Now, now, Bessie, Bessie, leave poor Mrs Clitheroe alone; she’d do no one any harm, an’ minds no one’s business but her own.
Bessie
Why is she always thryin’ to speak proud things, an’ lookin’ like a mighty one in th’ congregation o’ th’ people!
Nora sinks frightened on to the couch as Jack Clitheroe enters. He is a tall, well-made fellow of twenty-five. His face has none of the strength of Nora’s. It is a face in which is the desire for authority, without the power to attain it.
Clitheroe
(
excitedly
) What’s up? what’s afther happenin’?
Fluther
Nothin’, Jack. Nothin’. It’s all over now. Come on, Bessie, come on.