Part 2
(sitting up and showing its distorted face. Eithne Inguba goes out)
I show my face and everything he loves Must fly away.
EMER
You people of the wind Are full of lying speech and mockery. I have not fled your face.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
You are not loved.
EMER
And therefore have no dread to meet your eyes And to demand him of you.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
For that I have come. You have but to pay the price and he is free.
EMER
Do the Sidhe bargain?
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
When they set free a captive They take in ransom a less valued thing. The fisher when some knowledgeable man Restores to him his wife, or son, or daughter, Knows he must lose a boat or net, or it may be The cow that gives his children milk; and some Have offered their own lives. I do not ask Your life, or any valuable thing; You spoke but now of the mere chance that some day You'd sit together by the hearth again; Renounce that chance, that miserable hour, And he shall live again.
EMER
I do not question But you have brought ill luck on all he loves And now, because I am thrown beyond your power Unless your words are lies, you come to bargain.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
You loved your power when but newly married And I love mine although I am old and withered; You have but to put yourself into that power And he shall live again.
EMER
No, never, never.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
You dare not be accursed yet he has dared.
EMER
I have but two joyous thoughts, two things I prize, A hope, a memory, and now you claim that hope.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
He'll never sit beside you at the hearth Or make old bones, but die of wounds and toil On some far shore or mountain, a strange woman Beside his mattress.
EMER
You ask for my one hope That you may bring your curse on all about him.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
You've watched his loves and you have not been jealous Knowing that he would tire, but do those tire That love the Sidhe?
EMER
What dancer of the Sidhe What creature of the reeling moon has pursued him?
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
I have but to touch your eyes and give them sight; But stand at my left side.
(He touches her eyes with his left hand, the right being withered)
EMER
My husband there.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
But out of reach--I have dissolved the dark That hid him from your eyes but not that other That's hidden you from his.
EMER
Husband, husband!
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
Be silent, he is but a phantom now And he can neither touch, nor hear, nor see; The longing and the cries have drawn him hither. He heard no sound, heard no articulate sound; They could but banish rest, and make him dream, And in that dream, as do all dreaming shades Before they are accustomed to their freedom, He has taken his familiar form, and yet He crouches there not knowing where he is Or at whose side he is crouched.
(a Woman of the Sidhe has entered and stands a little inside the door)
EMER
Who is this woman?
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
She has hurried from the Country-Under-Wave And dreamed herself into that shape that he May glitter in her basket; for the Sidhe Are fishers also and they fish for men With dreams upon the hook.
EMER
And so that woman Has hid herself in this disguise and made Herself into a lie.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
A dream is body; The dead move ever towards a dreamless youth And when they dream no more return no more; And those more holy shades that never lived But visit you in dreams.
EMER
I know her sort. They find our men asleep, weary with war, Or weary with the chase and kiss their lips And drop their hair upon them, from that hour Our men, who yet knew nothing of it all, Are lonely, and when at fall of night we press Their hearts upon our hearts their hearts are cold.
(She draws a knife from her girdle)
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
And so you think to wound her with a knife. She has an airy body. Look and listen; I have not given you eyes and ears for nothing.
(The Woman of the Sidhe moves round the crouching Ghost of Cuchulain at front of stage in a dance that grows gradually quicker, as he slowly awakes. At moments she may drop her hair upon his head but she does not kiss him. She is accompanied by string and flute and drum. Her mask and clothes must suggest gold or bronze or brass or silver so that she seems more an idol than a human being. This suggestion may be repeated in her movements. Her hair too, must keep the metallic suggestion.)
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
Who is it stands before me there Shedding such light from limb and hair As when the moon complete at last With every labouring crescent past, And lonely with extreme delight, Flings out upon the fifteenth night?
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Because I long I am not complete. What pulled your hands about your feet And your head down upon your knees, And hid your face?
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
Old memories: A dying boy, with handsome face Upturned upon a beaten place; A sacred yew-tree on a strand; A woman that held in steady hand In all the happiness of her youth Before her man had broken troth, A burning wisp to light the door; And many a round or crescent more; Dead men and women. Memories Have pulled my head upon my knees.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Could you that have loved many a woman That did not reach beyond the human, Lacking a day to be complete, Love one that though her heart can beat, Lacks it but by an hour or so.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
I know you now for long ago I met you on the mountain side, Beside a well that seemed long dry, Beside old thorns where the hawk flew. I held out arms and hands but you, That now seem friendly, fled away Half woman and half bird of prey.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Hold out your arms and hands again You were not so dumbfounded when I was that bird of prey and yet I am all woman now.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
I am not The young and passionate man I was And though that brilliant light surpass All crescent forms, my memories Weigh down my hands, abash my eyes.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Then kiss my mouth. Though memory Be beauty's bitterest enemy I have no dread for at my kiss Memory on the moment vanishes: Nothing but beauty can remain.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
And shall I never know again Intricacies of blind remorse?
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Time shall seem to stay his course, For when your mouth and my mouth meet All my round shall be complete Imagining all its circles run; And there shall be oblivion Even to quench Cuchulain's drouth, Even to still that heart.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
Your mouth.
(They are about to kiss, he turns away)
O Emer, Emer.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
So then it is she Made you impure with memory.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
Still in that dream I see you stand, A burning wisp in your right hand, To wait my coming to the house, As when our parents married us.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Being among the dead you love her That valued every slut above her While you still lived.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
O my lost Emer.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
And there is not a loose-tongued schemer But could draw you if not dead, From her table and her bed. How could you be fit to wive With flesh and blood, being born to live Where no one speaks of broken troth For all have washed out of their eyes Wind blown dirt of their memories To improve their sight?
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
Your mouth, your mouth.
(Their lips approach but Cuchulain turns away as Emer speaks.)
EMER
If he may live I am content, Content that he shall turn on me, If but the dead will set him free That I may speak with him at whiles, Eyes that the cold moon or the harsh sea Or what I know not's made indifferent.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
What a wise silence has fallen in this dark! I know you now in all your ignorance Of all whereby a lover's quiet is rent. What dread so great as that he should forget The least chance sight or sound, or scratch or mark On an old door, or frail bird heard and seen In the incredible clear light love cast All round about her some forlorn lost day? That face, though fine enough, is a fool's face And there's a folly in the deathless Sidhe Beyond man's reach.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
I told you to forget After my fashion; you would have none of it; So now you may forget in a man's fashion. There's an unbridled horse at the sea's edge. Mount; it will carry you in an eye's wink To where the King of Country-Under-Wave, Old Mananan, nods above the board and moves His chessmen in a dream. Demand your life And come again on the unbridled horse.
GHOST of CUCHULAIN
Forgive me those rough words. How could you know That man is held to those whom he has loved By pain they gave, or pain that he has given, Intricacies of pain.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
I am ashamed That being of the deathless shades I chose A man so knotted to impurity.
(The Ghost of Cuchulain goes out)
WOMAN of the SIDHE (to Figure of Cuchulain)
To you that have no living light, but dropped From a last leprous crescent of the moon, I owe it all.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
Because you have failed I must forego your thanks, I that took pity Upon your love and carried out your plan To tangle all his life and make it nothing That he might turn to you.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Was it from pity You taught the woman to prevail against me?
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
You know my nature--by what name I am called.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
Was it from pity that you hid the truth That men are bound to women by the wrongs They do or suffer?
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
You know what being I am.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
I have been mocked and disobeyed--your power Was more to you than my good-will, and now I'll have you learn what my ill-will can do; I lay you under bonds upon the instant To stand before our King and face the charge And take the punishment.
FIGURE of CUCHULAIN
I'll stand there first. And tell my story first, and Mananan Knows that his own harsh sea made my heart cold.
WOMAN of the SIDHE
My horse is there and shall outrun your horse.
(The Figure of Cuchulain falls back, the Woman of the Sidhe goes out. Drum taps, music resembling horse hoofs.)
EITHNE INGUBA (entering quickly)
I heard the beat of hoofs, but saw no horse, And then came other hoofs and after that I heard low angry cries and thereupon I ceased to be afraid.
EMER
Cuchulain wakes.
(The figure turns round. It once more wears the heroic mask.)
CUCHULAIN
Eithne Inguba take me in your arms, I have been in some strange place and am afraid.
(The First Musician comes to the front of stage, the others from each side and unfold the cloth singing)
THE MUSICIANS
What makes her heart beat thus, Plain to be understood I have met in a man's house A statue of solitude, Moving there and walking; Its strange heart beating fast For all our talking. O still that heart at last.
O bitter reward! Of many a tragic tomb! And we though astonished are dumb And give but a sigh and a word A passing word.
Although the door be shut And all seem well enough, Although wide world hold not A man but will give you his love. The moment he has looked at you, He that has loved the best May turn from a statue His too human breast.
O bitter reward! Of many a tragic tomb! And we though astonished are dumb Or give but a sigh and a word A passing word.
What makes your heart so beat? Some one should stay at her side. When beauty is complete Her own thought will have died And danger not be diminished; Dimmed at three quarter light When moon's round is finished The stars are out of sight.
O bitter reward! Of many a tragic tomb! And we though astonished are dumb Or give but a sigh and a word A passing word.
(When the cloth is folded again the stage is bare.)
* * * * *
Here ends, 'Two Plays for Dancers,' by William Butler Yeats. Four hundred copies of this book have been printed and published by Elizabeth Corbet Yeats on paper made in Ireland, at the Cuala Press, Churchtown, Dundrum, in the County of Dublin, Ireland. Finished on the tenth day of January in the year nineteen hundred and nineteen.
End of Project Gutenberg's Two plays for dancers, by William Butler Yeats