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The Collected Works in Verse and Prose of William Butler Yeats. Volume 3 of 8. The Countess Cathleen. The Land of Heart's Desire. The Unicorn from the Stars
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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.
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.
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