The Complete Works. William Butler Yeats

in her coffers.

      SECOND MERCHANT.

      Last night, closed in the image of an owl,

      I hurried to the cliffs of Donegal,

      And saw, creeping on the uneasy surge,

      Those ships that bring the woman grain and meal;

      They are five days from us.

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      I hurried East,

      A gray owl flitting, flitting in the dew,

      And saw nine hundred oxen toil through Meath

      Driven on by goads of iron; they, too, brother,

      Are full five days from us.

      SECOND MERCHANT.

      Five days for traffic.

      [While they have been speaking the peasants have come in, led by TEIG and SHEMUS, who take their stations, one on each side of the door, and keep them marshalled into rude order and encourage them from time to time with gestures and whispered words.

      Here throng they; since the drouth they go in throngs,

      Like autumn leaves blown by the dreary winds.

      Come, deal—come, deal.

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      Who will come deal with us?

      SHEMUS.

      They are out of spirit, sir, with lack of food,

      Save four or five. Here, sir, is one of these;

      The others will gain courage in good time.

      A MIDDLE-AGED MAN.

      I come to deal if you give honest price.

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      [Reading in a parchment.]

      John Maher, a man of substance, with dull mind,

      And quiet senses and unventurous heart.

      The angels think him safe. Two hundred crowns,

      All for a soul, a little breath of wind.

      THE MAN.

      I ask three hundred crowns. You have read there,

      That no mere lapse of days can make me yours.

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      There is something more writ here—often at night

      He is wakeful from a dread of growing poor.

      There is this crack in you—two hundred crowns.

      [THE MAN takes them and goes.

      SECOND MERCHANT.

      Come, deal—one would half think you had no souls.

      If only for the credit of your parishes,

      Come, deal, deal, deal, or will you always starve?

      Maire, the wife of Shemus, would not deal,

      She starved—she lies in there with red wallflowers,

      And candles stuck in bottles round her bed.

      A WOMAN.

      What price, now, will you give for mine?

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      Ay, ay,

      Soft, handsome, and still young—not much, I think.

      [Reading in the parchment.

      She has love letters in a little jar

      On the high shelf between the pepper-pot

      And wood-cased hour-glass.

      THE WOMAN.

      O, the scandalous parchment!

      FIRST MERCHANT [reading].

      She hides them from her husband, who buys horses,

      And is not much at home. You are almost safe.

      I give you fifty crowns.[She turns to go.

      A hundred, then.

      [She takes them, and goes into the crowd.

      Come—deal, deal, deal; it is for charity

      We buy such souls at all; a thousand sins

      Made them our master’s long before we came.

      Come, deal—come, deal. You seem resolved to starve

      Until your bones show through your skin. Come, deal,

      Or live on nettles, grass, and dandelion.

      Or do you dream the famine will go by?

      The famine is hale and hearty; it is mine

      And my great master’s; it shall no wise cease

      Until our purpose end: the yellow vapour

      That brought it bears it over your dried fields

      And fills with violent phantoms of the lost,

      And grows more deadly as day copies day.

      See how it dims the daylight. Is that peace

      Known to the birds of prey so dread a thing?

      They, and the souls obedient to our master,

      And those who live with that great other spirit

      Have gained an end, a peace, while you but toss

      And swing upon a moving balance beam.

      [ALEEL enters; the wires of his harp are broken.

      ALEEL.

      Here, take my soul, for I am tired of it;

      I do not ask a price.

      FIRST MERCHANT [reading].

      A man of songs:

      Alone in the hushed passion of romance,

      His mind ran all on sidheoges and on tales

      Of Fenian labours and the Red Branch kings,

      And he cared nothing for the life of man:

      But now all changes.

      ALEEL.

      Ay, because her face,

      The face of Countess Cathleen, dwells with me:

      The sadness of the world upon her brow:

      The crying of these strings grew burdensome,

      Therefore I tore them; see; now take my soul.

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      We cannot take your soul, for it is hers.

      ALEEL.

      Ah, take it; take it. It nowise can help her,

      And, therefore, do I tire of it.

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      No; no.

      We may not touch it.

      ALEEL.

      Is your power so small,

      Must I then bear it with me all my days?

      May scorn close deep about you!

      FIRST MERCHANT.

      Lead him hence;

      He troubles me.

      [TEIG and SHEMUS lead ALEEL into the crowd.

      SECOND MERCHANT.

      His gaze has filled me, brother,

      With shaking and a dreadful fear.

      FIRST