_
King Conchubar is right.
King Conchubar is right.
Yeats
'
You will cry out for him some day and say,
'If Naisi were but living'----[_She misses NAISI. _] Where is he?
Where have you sent him? Where is the son of Usna?
Where is he, O, where is he?
[_She staggers over to the MUSICIANS. The EXECUTIONER
has come out with sword on which there is blood;
CONCHUBAR points to it. The MUSICIANS give a wail. _
CONCHUBAR.
The traitor who has carried off my wife
No longer lives. Come to my house now, Deirdre,
For he that called himself your husband's dead.
DEIRDRE.
O, do not touch me. Let me go to him.
[_Pause.
_
King Conchubar is right. My husband's dead.
A single woman is of no account,
Lacking array of servants, linen cupboards,
The bacon hanging--and King Conchubar's house
All ready, too--I'll to King Conchubar's house.
It is but wisdom to do willingly
What has to be.
CONCHUBAR.
But why are you so calm?
I thought that you would curse me and cry out,
And fall upon the ground and tear your hair.
DEIRDRE [_laughing_].
You know too much of women to think so;
Though, if I were less worthy of desire,
I would pretend as much; but, being myself,
It is enough that you were master here.
Although we are so delicately made,
There's something brutal in us, and we are won
By those who can shed blood. It was some woman
That taught you how to woo: but do not touch me,
For I'll go with you and do all your will
When I have done whatever's customary.
We lay the dead out, folding up the hands,
Closing the eyes, and stretching out the feet,
And push a pillow underneath the head,
Till all's in order; and all this I'll do
For Naisi, son of Usna.
CONCHUBAR.
It is not fitting.
You are not now a wanderer, but a queen,
And there are plenty that can do these things.
DEIRDRE.
You will cry out for him some day and say,
'If Naisi were but living'----[_She misses NAISI. _] Where is he?
Where have you sent him? Where is the son of Usna?
Where is he, O, where is he?
[_She staggers over to the MUSICIANS. The EXECUTIONER
has come out with sword on which there is blood;
CONCHUBAR points to it. The MUSICIANS give a wail. _
CONCHUBAR.
The traitor who has carried off my wife
No longer lives. Come to my house now, Deirdre,
For he that called himself your husband's dead.
DEIRDRE.
O, do not touch me. Let me go to him.
[_Pause.
_
King Conchubar is right. My husband's dead.
A single woman is of no account,
Lacking array of servants, linen cupboards,
The bacon hanging--and King Conchubar's house
All ready, too--I'll to King Conchubar's house.
It is but wisdom to do willingly
What has to be.
CONCHUBAR.
But why are you so calm?
I thought that you would curse me and cry out,
And fall upon the ground and tear your hair.
DEIRDRE [_laughing_].
You know too much of women to think so;
Though, if I were less worthy of desire,
I would pretend as much; but, being myself,
It is enough that you were master here.
Although we are so delicately made,
There's something brutal in us, and we are won
By those who can shed blood. It was some woman
That taught you how to woo: but do not touch me,
For I'll go with you and do all your will
When I have done whatever's customary.
We lay the dead out, folding up the hands,
Closing the eyes, and stretching out the feet,
And push a pillow underneath the head,
Till all's in order; and all this I'll do
For Naisi, son of Usna.
CONCHUBAR.
It is not fitting.
You are not now a wanderer, but a queen,
And there are plenty that can do these things.
DEIRDRE.
