Two plays for dancers

He loves me best,
Being his newest love, but in the end
Will love the woman best who loved him first
And loved him through the years when love seemed lost.

EMER

I have that hope, the hope that some day and somewhere
We'll sit together at the hearth again.

EITHNE INGUBA

Women like me when the violent hour is over
Are flung into some corner like old nut shells.
Cuchulain, listen.

EMER

No, not yet for first
I'll cover up his face to hide the sea;
And throw new logs upon the hearth and stir
The half burnt logs until they break in flame.
Old Mananan's unbridled horses come
Out of the sea and on their backs his horsemen
But all the enchantments of the dreaming foam
Dread the hearth fire.

(She pulls the curtains of the bed so as to hide the sick man's face, that the actor may change his mask unseen. She goes to one side of platform and moves her hand as though putting logs on a fire and stirring it into a blaze. While she makes these movements the Musicians play, marking the movements with drum and flute perhaps.

Having finished she stands beside the imaginary fire at a distance from Cuchulain & Eithne Inguba.)

Call on Cuchulain now

EITHNE INGUBA

Can you not hear my voice.

EMER

Bend over him.
Call out dear secrets till you have touched his heart
If he lies there; and if he is not there
Till you have made him jealous.

EITHNE INGUBA

Cuchulain, listen.

EMER

You speak too timidly; to be afraid
Because his wife is but three paces off
When there is so great a need were but to prove
The man that chose you made but a poor choice.
We're but two women struggling with the sea.

EITHNE INGUBA

O my beloved pardon me, that I
Have been ashamed and you in so great need.
I have never sent a message or called out,
Scarce had a longing for your company
But you have known and come; and if indeed
You are lying there stretch out your arms and speak;
Open your mouth and speak for to this hour
My company has made you talkative.
Why do you mope, and what has closed your ears.
Our passion had not chilled when we were parted
On the pale shore under the breaking dawn.
He will not hear me: or his ears are closed
And no sound reaches him.

EMER

Then kiss that image
The pressure of your mouth upon his mouth
May reach him where he is.

EITHNE INGUBA

(starting back) It is no man.
I felt some evil thing that dried my heart
When my lips touched it.

EMER

No, his body stirs;
The pressure of your mouth has called him home;
He has thrown the changeling out.

EITHNE INGUBA

(going further off) Look at that arm
That arm is withered to the very socket.

EMER

(going up to the bed)
What do you come for and from where?