The Playboy of the Western World

there isn’t a hop’orth isn’t falling lucky to his hands today.

Philly
Looking out, interested in the race. Look at that. They’re pressing him now.


Jimmy
He’ll win it yet.


Philly
Take your time, Jimmy Farrell. It’s too soon to say.


Widow Quin
Shouting. Watch him taking the gate. There’s riding.


Jimmy
Cheering. More power to the young lad!


Mahon
He’s passing the third.


Jimmy
He’ll lick them yet!


Widow Quin
He’d lick them if he was running races with a score itself.


Mahon
Look at the mule he has, kicking the stars.


Widow Quin
There was a lep! Catching hold of Mahon in her excitement. He’s fallen! He’s mounted again! Faith, he’s passing them all!


Jimmy
Look at him skelping her!


Philly
And the mountain girls hooshing him on!


Jimmy
It’s the last turn! The post’s cleared for them now!


Mahon
Look at the narrow place. He’ll be into the bogs! With a yell. Good rider! He’s through it again!


Jimmy
He’s neck and neck!


Mahon
Good boy to him! Flames, but he’s in! Great cheering, in which all join.


Mahon
With hesitation. What’s that? They’re raising him up. They’re coming this way. With a roar of rage and astonishment. It’s Christy, by the stars of God! I’d know his way of spitting and he astride the moon.



He jumps down and makes for the door, but Widow Quin catches him and pulls him back.


Widow Quin
Stay quiet, will you. That’s not your son. To Jimmy. Stop him, or you’ll get a month for the abetting of manslaughter and be fined as well.


Jimmy
I’ll hold him.


Mahon
Struggling. Let me out! Let me out, the lot of you, till I have my vengeance on his head today.


Widow Quin
Shaking him, vehemently. That’s not your son. That’s a man is going to make a marriage with the daughter of this house, a place with fine trade, with a license, and with poteen too.


Mahon
Amazed. That man marrying a decent and a moneyed girl! Is it mad yous are? Is it in a crazy-house for females that I’m landed now?


Widow Quin
It’s mad yourself is with the blow upon your head. That lad is the wonder of the Western World.


Mahon
I seen it’s my son.


Widow Quin
You seen that you’re mad. Cheering outside. Do you hear them cheering him in the zigzags of the road? Aren’t you after saying that your son’s a fool, and how would they be cheering a true idiot born?


Mahon
Getting distressed. It’s maybe out of reason that that man’s himself. Cheering again. There’s none surely will go cheering him. Oh, I’m raving with a madness that would fright the world! He sits down with his hand to his head. There was one time I seen ten scarlet divils letting on they’d cork my spirit in a gallon can; and one time I seen rats as big as badgers sucking the life blood from the butt of my lug; but I never till this day confused that dribbling idiot with a likely man. I’m destroyed surely.


Widow Quin
And who’d wonder when it’s your brainpan that is gaping now?


Mahon
Then the blight of the sacred drought upon myself and him, for I never went mad to this day, and I not three weeks with the Limerick girls drinking myself silly, and parlatic from the dusk to dawn. To Widow Quin, suddenly. Is my visage astray?


Widow Quin
It is then. You’re a sniggering maniac, a child could see.


Mahon
Getting up more cheerfully. Then I’d best be going to the union beyond, and there’ll be a welcome before me, I tell you, With great pride. and I a terrible and fearful case, the way that there I was one time, screeching in a straightened waistcoat, with seven doctors writing out my sayings in a printed book. Would you believe that?


Widow Quin
If you’re a wonder itself, you’d best be hasty, for them lads caught a maniac one time and pelted the poor creature till he ran out, raving and foaming, and was drowned in the sea.


Mahon
With philosophy. It’s true mankind is the divil when your head’s astray. Let me out now and I’ll slip down the boreen, and not see them so.


Widow Quin
Showing him out. That’s it. Run to the right, and not a one will see.



He runs off.


Philly
Wisely. You’re at some gaming, Widow Quin; but I’ll walk after him and give him his dinner and a time to rest, and I’ll see then if he’s raving or as sane as you.


Widow Quin
Annoyed. If you go near that lad, let you be wary of your head, I’m saying. Didn’t you hear him telling he was crazed at times?


Philly
I heard him telling a power; and I’m thinking we’ll have right sport, before night will fall. He goes out.


Jimmy
Well, Philly’s a conceited and foolish man. How could that madman have his senses and his brainpan slit? I’ll go after them and see him turn on Philly now.



He goes; Widow Quin hides poteen behind counter. Then hubbub outside.


Voices
There you are! Good jumper! Grand lepper! Darlint boy! He’s the racer! Bear him on, will you!



Christy comes in, in Jockey’s dress, with Pegeen Mike, Sara, and other girls and men.


Pegeen
To crowd. Go on now and don’t destroy him and he drenching with sweat. Go along, I’m saying, and have your tug-of-warring till he’s dried his skin.


Crowd
Here’s his prizes! A bagpipes! A fiddle was played by a poet in the years gone by! A flat and three-thorned blackthorn would lick the scholars out of Dublin town!


Christy
Taking prizes from the men. Thank you kindly, the lot of you. But you’d say it was little only I did this day if you’d seen me a while since striking my one single blow.


Town Crier
Outside, ringing a bell. Take notice, last event of this day! Tug-of-warring on the green