Collected Plays and Teleplays (Irish Literature) Read Free

Now, Martin. ( He puts a finger to his lips. ) You’ve had yer say. Hould yer whisht for pity’s sake.
    ( He walks to desk and takes large ledgers, brings them to his table and works at them. )
    SHAWN: Sure he hadn’t a word to say when I was finished talking to him. Don’t you know, says I, that the soil of me little farm is ( caressingly ) the grandest, finest, richest fertile land in de whole country. I was talking to an Inspector from the Department about the soil. Mr. Kilshaughraun, says he, you’ll be surprised at what I’m goin’ to tell ye.
    CULLEN: What did he say?
    SHAWN: Do you know, says he, that in all me travels I have nivir come across soil the like of this. It has phosphates, says he, and the divil knows what. I disremember the names of all the fine, grand, nourishing, rich, juicy properties of me soil. Sure Lord save us, haven’t I a field of oats up there now, as yellow as a bantam’s tail, as thick as a girl’s hair, sure you’d nivir find yer way out if you walked into it.
    REILLY: Sure don’t I pass it every Sunday on me walk after Mass, a rough-lookin’ hungry farm of rocks and scraws that would wear the hands off five men to get any satisfaction out of it in a month of Sundays. Sure don’t I know it well. Six pound valuation on land, four on buildings. ( Bitterly. ) Ask the Town Clerk. Sure it’s down on the list.
    TOWN CLERK: Dat’s right, dat’s right.
    REILLY: Ask the Chief Executive Officer of the Urban Council, four fifty a year with fees for fairs and markets for the privilege of sitting on his Cork backside! Do you know, I think I’m going off me head in his place. . . . What in the name of God is keepin’ that Chairman? I’ve a good mind to go home and leave him without his quorum.
    CULLEN: Yerra, take your time, Martin. Sure what would you be doin’ at home only annoying Mrs. Reilly, yer good long-suffering wife, with your great unrest of mind.
    TOWN CLERK: ( Working at his books. ) Well, do you know, these books are in a terrible condition of confusion. Full of blanks. Do ‘oo know phwat the Council was paid four years ago for twenty-seven planks that were sold to de County Surveyor?
    SHAWN: ( Expansively. ) A good strong well-made, well-seasoned plank of prime timber is worth twelve shillings and sixpence.
    TOWN CLERK: ( Tapping his ledger. ) Blank! That’s what was paid—Blank!
    ( He rises again and goes to desk to get papers. )
    REILLY: Of course, the poor man that was here before you had the great misfortune to be born in this town. He was not a smart maneen from Cork with his degrees and all his orders, he was only paid four pounds a week and fees for markets turned in to the Council ( his voice rises ), he was only an ordinary unassuming decent Irishman that took a bottle of stout like the rest of us, with no flying up to Dublin to the Departments to suck up to a lot of thumawns and pultogues and fly-be-nights. . . .
    ( Quite suddenly the door is opened by KELLY . He is accompanied by THE STRANGER— a small dark middle-aged man who is formally dressed in striped trousers, black coat and wears a bowler hat. He carries a briefcase. He is motioned into the public gallery at the back of the stage and throughout the Act he sits immovably with his hat on, facing the audience. He receives many curious looks from those present. KELLY is dressed in a black overcoat, dark scarf and hard hat. He wears glasses, has a cunning serious face. In his left hand he carries dark leather gloves. He has taken the company completely by surprise. They preserve a complete and surprised silence, which KELLY naturally takes as a tribute to his own great importance. The others seem to be asking themselves whether he has been listening outside the door for a time before coming in. SHAWN says ‘Hullo.’ KELLY closes the door with great care. He then takes his overcoat off slowly, hangs it up, puts his hat on the same peg and comes forward to the table slowly and abstractedly, his gaze being