Rhapsody in Stephen''s Green/The Insect Play

  MRS BEETLE Wait till I get him. Why didn’t he tell me? Our lovely gorgeous capital, our nest egg. (Hurries out)

  TRAMP (Musing) Well begob can you beat that! The bloody bees do spend the time blathering out of them but your men the beetles is all for work, gatherin’ up all classes of muck and dirt an’ rollin’ it into big balls, balls that would take the sight out of yer eyes with the smell that’s off them. That’s the queerest game of the whole lot bar none. And there’s a bloody awful stink in the air here after them.

  EGG Let the world prepare, let everything be ready! Be ready, prepare!

  TRAMP Is it you again? What’s bitin’ you now?

  EGG I’m being born. BORN!

  TRAMP Fair enough.

  EGG I am going to do enormous things — vast, strange, terrible things. I am going to be momentous when I’m born.

  TRAMP I see. Being born, of course, is a very hard thing … but it’s very interestin’. Ah yes. An’ it’s a great thing to be born right, of course. Ah certainly.

  EGG I intend to be … implacable, wayward, devilish. And powerful, famous, a lord over the world.

  TRAMP I see. Well don’t let me stop you. But get yourself born first, you’ll never get annywhere without being born. God be with the days when I was born meself.

  The DUCK enters, dragging along a dead ladybird with its claw. It enters the nest.

  DUCK Look, chick, daddy’s bringing you something nice.

  The DUCK’s voice is sinister and high-pitched and it speaks with a most refined foreign accent.

  EGG My birth-pangs are making the earth and the heavens quake. The stars halt in their courses. The fearful hour of my deliverance is at hand.

  TRAMP (Irritably) Now that’ll be enough out of you, me bucko. There’s more oul’ chat out of you than I heard from annything the same size.

  DUCK (Returning) No, chickabiddy, mustn’t come out, just eat what daddy gave you now. Be a good little chick now.

  An ugly yellow-headed chick puts its head out of the nest.

  DUCKLING (Puling) Daddy, I’m … tired.

  DUCK Now, now darling, back to bed. Daddy is going to get you another nice ladybird. Would my little pet like that?

  DUCKLING I don’t know what I’d like Daddy. I’d … I’d like something nice.

  DUCK Ha-ha! Back to bed now, my little treasure. The dote5 doesn’t know what she’d like. But I really must get something good for her, something interesting, something frightfully delicate. I must hunt. (To TRAMP) Who are you?

  TRAMP Who — me?

  DUCK Does one eat a thing like you, I wonder?

  TRAMP (Sniggering) Ate me? Not if you have the pledge6 because you’d only get drunk if you et a man like me.

  DUCK sniffs at him.

  DUCK Nao, black shaow, frightfully stale smell. Who are you?

  TRAMP Yerra sure I’m only a fella havin’ a bit of sleep here on me tod.7

  DUCK Ao? Any family?

  TRAMP Not at all man, sure I haven’t even a wife.

  DUCK Did you happen to notice the daughter? Fearfully brilliant child, can talk and all that. Deliciously witty person. I do think she is frightfully fetching. Like childen?

  TRAMP Ah well of course the young wans is all right, I wouldn’t be heard sayin’ a word against them. They’re a very nice crowd, some of them.

  DUCK D’you knaow, I do think that children are wizard, full of beans, d’you knaow, and all that. I do think it’s frightful fun goin out to get things for them, beetles and all that sort of thing. I mean, parenthood gives one pleasure, you knaow. Give her two or three meals a day.

  TRAMP O’course a growing child’d want that, the bones does be soft and they do have to get lime into them in the feeds. Ah certainly.

  DUCK Matter of fact I’m frightfully proud of her. She’ll be a great lady when she grows up — hunting and fishing and skin-foods and that sort of thing. But really, I must toddle off and get her something to eat.

  DUCKLING (From nest) Daddy, I’m fed up, I’m bored. I want something. I’m tired, daddy.

  DUCK (Delighted) Hear that? Pretty average wizard talk for a child if you ask me. Really, old man, I must toddle off and get her something very special. Cheerio, sweetness! Be good till daddy comes back. (Exit)

  TRAMP (Reflectively) I see. (He suddenly bellows out in mock rage) What are you squawkin’ out of you about, you bloody little yella bad-tempered bastard?

  DUCKLING (In a bored supercilious voice) Shut up, you awful person.

  TRAMP (Shouting) I’ll shut you up with wan twist of your scraggy neck, you bloody withered peacock, if you don’t look out for yourself!

  EGG (Shouting) Be ready for me! The great moment of crisis is at hand. PREPARE! BE READY!

  TRAMP You again? Don’t you start now, because begob I won’t have the pair of yez roarin’ out of yez at me.

  DUCKLING (In a low voice to herself) Perfectly impossible person really.

  TRAMP (Meditatively) I don’t know … I don’t know. It’s haird … it’s haird, but it’s very interesstin’. It’s haird but it’s very interesstin’. Your man the bird works the feathers off his back to feed this dirty heap of yellow muck inside in the nest. That’s nature for you, of course. And I suppose the people that owns this zoo does be layin’ out good hard earned money to feed the hen. And then there’s this bastard in the shell lettin’ roars out of him every minute. Everybody’s well looked after bar meself. It’s haird. It’s very haird but it’s very interesstin’.

  Enter MR BEETLE.

  MR BEETLE (Calling) Where are you Maggie? Where the hell are you? Ay, where’s me ball? Where’s me wife?

  TRAMP Yer wife? Don’t tell me that that big fat bags that was here a minute ago is yer wife? You don’t mean to stand there and tell me you get into bed with that. If you do, keep far away from me, me boy.

  MR BEETLE That’s her alright — where is she? Do you hear me? And where’s me pile? WHERE’S ME PILE?

  TRAMP She’s humped off lookin’ for you.

  MR BEETLE But me pile, me ball of capital! Where is it? Do you hear me, where’s me bloody capital?

  TRAMP The muck with the bad smell offit? Sure some chancer came along and rolled it off with him. Yer oul wan8 wasn’t here at the time.

  MR BEETLE WHAT! What are you sayin’ man?

  TRAMP The stuff is gone and that’s all.

  MR BEETLE It’s gone? Great God! O great God! Gone! Stolen! Me capital, me savins I’m ruined, I’m destroyed! (Cries out hysterically) They’ve stolen me savins, me capital, they’ve stolen me investments, me pile! I’m ruined, ruined, where was that bloody bitch of a wife of mine? I’m ruined, ruined. Thief, thief, stop him. Stop him! Murder! Murder! (Exit moaning)

  TRAMP I see. As I said before, it’s all very haird but it’s very interesstin’. It’s very interesstin.’ Your man kills himself gatherin’ up a ball of muck. Then when he has rolled it up nice and big and smelly, along comes your other man and nabs it. And your man, of course, gets nothing for all his trouble and his bloody exertions. It’s haird, it’s haird.

  Enter MR and MRS CRICKET. Both speak with the rawest of all possible Cork accents.

  MR CRICKET Mind oorself now.

  MRS CRICKET Yerra sure I’m all right.

  MR CRICKET But oo know the way oo are now, sure didn’t the doctor tell you to be careful.

  MRS CRICKET Well do oo know, I’m worn out with the travellin.’

  MR CRICKET But why wouldn’t oo be after comin’ all de way from Cork? Sure ‘tis a hoor9 of a journey. Let you sit down now.

  MRS CRICKET Do oo know, if I’d known this is the way I’d be, not a bit of me would let you do it.

  MR CRICKET Yerra, gwan out of that wid oo.

  MRS CRICKET I’m as tired as a corpse.

  MR CRICKET Oo poor little wife, let oo sit down there now and be aisy. Sure won’t it be grand altogether when we have the youngster, chirping and crowin’ and laughin’ out of him on the floor.

  MRS CRICKET Yerra but won’
t it be the fine father you’ll make, yourself and your youngster.

  MR CRICKET And look at the fine … grand … impartant job he’ll get in the civil service.

  MRS CRICKET Yerra I’m tired — doan’t be annoyin’ me. Is dis our new home?

  MR CRICKET It is faith. And a grand fine little home it is.

  MRS CRICKET But is it sound, is it dry?

  MR CRICKET As dry as a bone, girl.

  MRS CRICKET I hope it is — oo know I doan’t like damp.

  MR CRICKET Yerra doan’t be talkin’, sure didn’t another cricket live here, a cricket from Cork.

  MRS CRICKET (Moaning) O, O, the pains is at me — hard. And phwat happened him. The cricket from Cork. Did he get a fine job in the service and move to a bigger house?

  MR CRICKET (Laughing) Ha ha! No, he didn’t get e’er a jab in de service at all. Do oo know phwat happened him. Could oo guess?

  MRS CRICKET Ah doan’t be annoyin’ me. Phwat happened him?

  MR CRICKET I’ll tell oo. A bird took a fancy to him and et him up. Et him up, every bit and bitteen of him. Ha-ha-ha! And wasn’t it lucky for oo and me? (He makes chewing noise and laughs.)

  MRS CRICKET Phwat? Et him up … alive?

  MR CRICKET Sure twas a shtroke of providence, girl. Only for de bird eatin’ him we’d have ne’er a house over our heads at all.

  MRS CRICKET But Lord save us, eaten up alive! Sure that’s terrible altogether, dat’s a fright. OO! Phwat’s dat. Oooooo!

  MR CRICKET (Alarmed) What’s wrong, girl? What’s de matter?

  MRS CRICKET O no, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be yet. The pains is at me again — hard. Do oo know, I’m frightened.

  MR CRICKET Doan’t worry now, oo’ll be allright. Every woman, oo know, has to go through all dat class of ting sooner or later. Sure ’tis only nature, girl.

  MRS CRICKET O, oo can talk, ‘tis easy for oo to blather out of oo like dat. Did he chew him or did he swally him in one lump?

  MR CRICKET (Gloatingly munching) He chewed him well.

  MRS CRICKET Do oo know, dat’s funny. (Laughs hysterically)

  MR CRICKET Easy now, girl. We’ll be very comfortable here now, when we put up nice curtains and furnishins’. Do oo know what I’d like?

  MRS CRICKET Phwat?

  MR CRICKET I’ll tell oo. A nice … big … juicy kiss.

  MRS CRICKET Yerra go away and doan’t be such an ownshuck.

  MR CRICKET (In an artful whisper) Do oo know what I have here, inside in me pocket?

  MRS CRICKET I woan’t listen to any bold talk and me dis way, you mind phwat you’re sayin’ now boy.

  MR CRICKET Guess now. Oo woan’t? A rattle!

  He takes out a rattle.

  MRS CRICKET A rattle! A little rattle! Give it here to me.

  MR CRICKET prances round the stage in comic attitudes, humming and making outlandish noises. MRS CRICKET sits and laughs in a somewhat unbalanced fashion.

  MRS CRICKET Wait till de baby comes till he sees de rattle we have. Give it here to me?

  MR CRICKET (Merrily) Wait till HE sees it? Sure ’tis a little girl I do be praying for iviry night.

  MRS CRICKET Give it here to me.

  He gives it and she starts rattling it and humming in a broken voice.

  MR CRICKET Well do oo know, I must be off now to look around and look up some of de old Cork crowd in de service. They’ll tip me off, oo know, about dis place, and bring me around till I get de hang of it. ‘Tis impartant to start right away and get in with de right crowd. ’Tis a terrible sin to waste time, oo know.

  MRS CRICKET Phwat, leave me here — alone?

  MR CRICKET Yerra girl sure I’ll be only round de corner.

  MRS CRICKET Sure you’re no father at all to leave me here and me in a certain condition. ’Tis very unfair entirely.

  MR CRICKET Doan’t be mad girl, oo wouldn’t like me to miss dem all and dem coming out at five o’clock. Sure dat wouldn’t do at all at all. I’ll be back nearly before I’m gone.

  MRS CRICKET Well oo must hurry back to mama.

  MR CRICKET And if oo wants me badly oo can rattle.

  MRS CRICKET (She rattles and hums ‘Husha-bye-baby’.) Oo’r a bad father, that’s what oo are.

  MR CRICKET (Hurrying off) Mind oorself now, girl, I’ll be back very soon with all de news.

  TRAMP Ye’ll be game ball there ma’am, ye’ll be … absolutely … O.K. Just stop where you are till yer man comes back and you’ll be O.K.

  MRS CRICKET Who are oo? A beetle?

  TRAMP Indeed and begob and I am not a beetle ma’am, I’m certaintly not a bloody beetle and I’ve been called manny a thing in me time.

  MRS CRICKET Do oo eat people up or bite?

  TRAMP I don’t, and I don’t spend me time shovin’ round balls of dirt either.

  MRS CRICKET (Rattling) How many children have oo?

  TRAMP (In mock indignation) I beg yer pardin?

  MRS CRICKET Have oo many young wans in de house?

  TRAMP Sure I never had ne’er a kid nor annything like one, I was never a man for that class of thing at all. I always barred that game.

  MRS CRICKET Oo never got married?

  TRAMP Married? Not at all.

  MRS CRICKET ’Tis very sad not to be married.

  She rattles and sings idly as if attaching no importance to the conversation.

  TRAMP (Very meditatively) Of course marriage is a very interestin’ thing … but it’s haird, it’s very haird. There does be very heavy responsibilities on the married men. They do have to give over takin’ a jar10 when they’re married.

  MRS CRICKET You’re a very funny beetle. Men are very selfish. Would oo look at my man now, went away and left me and me in a certain condition.

  TRAMP Him? Sure he’s only hopped round the corner for a jar to steady his nerves.

  EGG (Shouting) The whole future is boiling up inside me! Terrible and vast undertakings are about to be launched forth. The golden hour is about to dawn. I’m coming! I approach!

  TRAMP Do you hear your man?

  Enter MRS BEETLE.

  MRS BEETLEWhere’s me oul fella? Do you hear me? Where’s me oul fella? WHERE’S ME PILE?

  MRS CRICKET Oor pile? Phwat pile now?

  MRS BEETLEMe pile, me capital, me own and me husband’s life savins, our little all. Where is it? Where’s me oul fella?

  MRS CRICKET I’m a stranger here, I didn’t see him at all.

  MRS BEETLEThe bloody oul eejit must have gone off with it. Have you e’er an oul fella yourself, ma’am?

  MRS CRICKET I have o’ course. He’s gone away on very impartant business, do oo know.

  MRS BEETLEIs he now. Listen, deary, I know it’s none of me business, I know you’ll think I’m very cheeky but tell me, ma’am are ye … expectin’?

  MRS CRICKET O! De pains is terrible.

  MRS BEETLE Ah there now, love didn’t I know, sure many’s the time I was in the same boat meself and I’d be in it this minute if I let his nibs have his way. But not me. I’ve learnt me lesson.

  MRS CRICKET Well do oo know, tis nice, but tis a terrible price altogether to pay for the grand times you do have when you get married.

  MRS BEETLE Ah the poor girl … and you so young. Sure ’tis only a mug’s game. Sure look at my figure.

  MRS CRICKET ’Tis too late for me to change me mind.

  MRS BEETLE Where’s yer pile?

  MRS CRICKET A pile. Phwat do I want a pile for?

  MRS BEETLE What do you want it for? A PILE? Sure everybody has to have a pile. Yer capital, nest egg, for yourself and yer oul man. Yer life savins, something for the rainy day. You don’t mean to say yer oul man hasn’t a pile?

  MRS CRICKET If he has he never showed it to me.

  MRS BEETLE Sure you can’t have a proper home without a pile. Nor you can’t have happiness nor a future. A pile is what keeps a home together, woman dear.

  MRS CRICKET Ah yerra sure there’s nothing like a grand nice little houseen for keepin’ a home t
ogether, and a nice job in the service for the man with a grand pinshin11 at the end of it.

  MRS BEETLE Ah musha12 but you’ve got the queer ideas, God bless you. I’d no more … I’d no more be without a pile than I’d be without me dinner on a Sunda.

  MRS CRICKET Ah there’s nothing like the clean bright little houseen to make a man love ye and stay with ye.

  MRS BEETLE Lord love you, I hope you’re right, but I want me pile. Where is it? Where’s that oul man o’mine? (Shouts) Ay, where are you. Ooo-oo! (Exit)

  MRS CRICKET Well, do oo know, isn’t that the cantankerous oul sow, I wouldn’t blame her husband for skippin off with himself. (She rattles and sings to herself tunelessly.) I feel queer. I feel very queer in meself.

  Enter DUCK.

  DUCK Ao, what have we here? Tally-ho, tally-ho!

  He kills MRS CRICKET and starts to drag her body up to the nest with his leg.

  TRAMP Ay, luckit here, what are you doing? You’ve killed her!

  DUCK Oh-ho, chickabiddy! Chick chick chick! Wake up darling, daddy’s brought something nice.

  TRAMP Well begob can you beat that! He done her in in front of me eyes and me sittin’ here lookin’ at him. And I didn’t move a hand to save her. Begob I’m worse than he is. I’m worse than he is. It’s a bloody shame.

  Enter PARASITE, who is a frightful-looking sight and the last word in mealy mouthed joxers.13

  PARASITE You took the words outa me mouth. Them’s me own sentiments sir.

  TRAMP To be whipped off like that and her goin’ to have a baby — sure that’s not right at all.

  PARASITE It’s not right, it never was right, and it never will be right. I understand how you feel. You’re a man after me own heart.

  TRAMP And who might you be?

  PARASITE I’m a poor … unassumin’ … labourin’ man, I ask no favours and I mind me own business. I’m a poor orphan into the bargain. They do call me a parasite.

  TRAMP I see. Well do you know what I’m goin’ to tell you, I never in me born days seen a dirtier stroke than your man done, killin’ the young wan off like that.

  PARASITE I’m with you there, sir, it aggravated and consternated me feelins’, sir. And answer me this, sir. Did he have to do it? Was he starvin’ with the hunger like meself that hasn’t had bite to eat or sup to drink for four days? Indeed and begob and he wasn’t, not bloody likely, he has his place inside there packed to the roof with stuff smoked and hung up to dry, any God’s amount of it man. Don’t be talkin’ to me, sure don’t I know. And it’s a right bloody shame, that’s what it is. Look at me. I’m half as strong as a bantam and twice as light from all me hardships and hunger and here is this bastard with more stuff than could feed a hundred for a week. Sure don’t be talkin’ to me man.