The End of the World, Act I

PERSONS     HUFF, the Farmer     SOLLERS, the Wainwright.     MERRICK, the Smith.     VINE, the Publician.     SHALE, the Labourer.     A DOWSER.     MRS HUFF.     WARP, the Molecatcher     Men and Women of the Village         ACT I     Scene:     A public-house kitchen. HUFF the Farmer and SOLLERS the Wainwright talking; another man, a stranger, sitting silent.     Huff      Ay, you may think we're well off -     Sollers             Now for croaks      Old toad! who's trodden on you now? - Go on;      But if you can, croak us a new tune.     Huff             Ay      You think you're well off - and don't grab my words      Before they're spoken - but some folks, I've heard,      Pity us, living quiet in the valley.     Sollers      Well, I suppose 'tis their affair.     Huff         Is it?      But what I mean to say, - if they think small      Of us that live in the valley, mayn't it show      That we aren't all so happy as we think?     [MERRICK the smith comes in.]     Merrick      Quick, cider! I believe I've swallowd a coal.     Sollers      Good evening. True, the heat's a wonder tonight.        [Smith draws himself cider.]     Huff      Haven't you brought your flute? We've all got room      For music in our minds to-night, I'll swear.      Working all day in the sun do seem to push      The thought out of your brain.     Sollers             O, 'tis the sun      Had trodden on you? That's what makes you croak?      Ay, whistle him somewhat: put a tune in his brain;      He'll else croak us out of pleasure with drinking.     Merrick      'Tis quenching, I believe. - A tune? Too hot?      You want a fiddler.     Huff         Nay, I want your flute.      I like a piping sound, not scraping o' guts.     Merrick      This is no weather for a man to play      Flutes or music at all that asks him spend      His breath and spittle: you want both yourself      These oven days. Wait till a fiddler comes.     Huff      Who ever comes down here?     Sellers         There's someone come.      [Pointing with his pipe to the stranger.]     Merrick      Good evening, mister. Are you a man for tunes?     Stranger      And if I was I'ld give you none to-night.     Merrick      Well, no offence: there's no offence, I hope,      In taking a dummy for a tuneful man.      Is it for can't or won't you are?     Stranger      You wouldn't if you carried in your mind      What I've been carrying all day.     Sollers         What's that?     Stranger      You wait; you'll know about it soon; O yes,      Soon enough it will find you and and rouse you.     Huff      Now ain't that just the way we go down here?      Here in the valley we're like dogs in a yard,      Chained to our kennels and wall'd in all round,      And not a sound of the world jumps over our hills.      And when there comes a passenger among us,      One who has heard what's stirring out beyond,      'Tis a grutchy mumchance fellow in the dismals!     Stranger      News, it it, you want? I could give you news! -      I wonder, did you ever hate to feel      The earth so fine and splendid?     Huff         Oh, you're one      Has stood in the brunt of the world's wickedness,      Like me? But listen, and I'll give you a tale      Of wicked things done in this little valley,      Done against me, will surely make you think      The Devil here fetcht up his masterpiece.     Sollers      Ah, but it's hot enough without you talking      Your old hell fire about that pair of sinners.      Leave them alone and drink.     Huff         I'll smell them grilling      One of these days.     Merrick         But there'll be nought to drink      When that begins! Best keep your skin full now.     Stranger      What do I care for wickedness? Let those      Who've played with dirt, and thought the game was bold,      Make much of it while they can: there's a big thing      Coming down to us, ay, well on its road,      Will make their ploys seem mighty piddling sport.     Huff      This is a fool; or else it's what I think, -      The world now breeds such crowd that they've no crombie room      For well-grown sins: they hatch 'em small as flies.      But you stay here, out of the world awhile,      Here where a man's mind, and a woman's mind,      Can fling out large in wickedness: you'll see      Something monstrous here, something dreadful.     Strainger      I've seen enough of that. Though it was only      Fancying made me see it, it was enough;      I've seen the folk of the world yelling aghast,      Scurrying to hide themselves. I want nought else      Monstrous and dreadful. -     Merrick         What had roused 'em so?      Some house fire?     Huff         A huzzy flogged to death      For her hard-faced adultery?     Stranger [too intent to hear them]         Oh to think of it!      Talk, do, chatter some nonsense, else I'll think:      And then I'm feeling like a grub that crawls      All abroad in a dusty road; and high      Above me, and shaking the ground beneath me, come      Wheels of a thundering wain, right where I'm plodding.     Sollers         Queer thinking, that.     Stranger             And here's a queerer thing.      I have a sort of lust in me, pushing me still      Into that terrible way of thinking, like      Black men in India lie them down and long      To feel their holy wagon crack their spines.     Merrick      Do you mean beetles? I've driven over scores,      They sprawling on their backs, or standing mazed.      I never knew they liked it.     Sollers         He means frogs.      I know what's in his mind. When I was young      My mother would catch us frogs and set them down,      Lapt in a screw of paper, in the ruts,      And carts going by would quash 'em; and I'ld laugh,      And yet be thinking, ' Suppose it was myself      Twisted stiff in huge paper, and wheels      Bit as the wall of a barn treading me flat! '     Huff      I know what's in his mind: just madness it is.      He's lookt too hard at his fellows in the world;      Sight of their monstrous hearts, like devils in cages,      Has jolted all the gearing of his wits.      It needs a tough brain, ay, a brain like mine,      To pore on ugly sin and not go mad.     Stranger      Madness! You're not far out. - I came up here      To be alone and quiet in my thoughts      Alone in my own dreadful mind. The path,      Of red sand trodden hard, went up between      High hedges overgrown of hawthorn blowing      White as clouds; ay, it seemed burrowed through      A white sweet-smelling cloud, - I walking there      Small as a hare that runs its tunnelled drove      Thro' the close heather. And beside my feet      Blue greygles drifted gleaming over the grass;      And up I climbed to sunlight green in birches,      And the path turned to daisies among grass      With bonfires of the broom beside, like flame      Of burning straw; and I lookt into your valley.      I could scarce look.      Anger was smarting in my eyes like grit.      O the fine earth and fine all for nothing!      Mazed I walkt, seeing and smelling and hearing:      The meadow lands all shining fearfully gold, -      Cruel as fire the sight of them toucht my mind;      Breathing was all a honey taste of clover      And bean flowers: I would have rather had it      Carrion, or the stink of smouldering brimstone.      And larks aloft, the happy piping fools,      And squealing swifts that slid on hissing wings,      And yellowhammers playing spry in hedges:      I never noted them before; but now -      Yes, I was mad, and crying mad, to see      The earth so fine, fine all for nothing!     Sollers [spits]      Pst! yellowhammers! He talks gentry talk.      That's worse than being mad.     Stranger      I tell you, you'll be feeling them to-morn      And hating them to be so wonderful.     Merrick      Let's have some sense. Where do you live?     Stranger             Nowhere.      I'm always travelling.     Huff         Why, what's your trade?     Stranger         A dowser.     Huff         You're the man for me!     Stranger         Not I.     Huff      Ho, this is better than a fiddler now!      One of those fellows who have nerves so clever      That they can feel the waters of underground      Tingling in their fingers?      You find me a spring in my high grazing-field,      I'll give you what I save in trundling water.     Stranger      I find you water now! - No, but I'll find you      Fire and fear and unbelievable death.     [VINE the Publician comes in]     Vine      Are ye all served? Ay, seems so; what's your score?     Merrick         Two ciders.     Huff         Three.     Sollers         And two for me.     Vine [to Dowser]         And you?     Dowser     Naught. I was waiting on you.     Vine         Will you drink?     Dowser      Ay! Drink! what else is left for a man to do      Who knows what I know?     Vine         Good. What is't you know?      You tell it out and set my trade a-buzzing.     Sollers      He's queer. Give him his mug and ease his tongue.     Vine      I had to swill the pigs: else I'd been here;      But we've the old fashion in this house; you draw,      I keep the score. Well, what's the worry on you?     Sollers         Oh he's in love.     Dowser         You fleering grinning louts,      I'll give it you now; now have it in your faces!     Sollers         Crimini, he's going to fight!     Dowser      You try and fight with the thing that's on my side!     Merrick         A ranter!     Huff             A boozy one then.     Dowser         Open yon door;      'Tis dark enough by now. Open it, you.     Vine      Hold on. Have you got something fierce outside?     Merrick         A Russian bear?     Sollers         Dowsers can play strange games.     Huff         No tricks!     Dowser         This is a trick to rouse the world.         [He opens the door.]      Look out! Between the elms! There's my fierce thing.     Merrick      He means the star with the tail like a feather of fire.     Sollers.         Comet, it's called.     Huff         Do you mean the comet, mister?     Dowser         What do you think of it?     Huff         Pretty enough.      But I saw a man loose off a rocket once;      It made more stir and flare of itself; though yon      Does better at steady burning.     Dowser         Stir and flare!      You'll soon forget your rocket.     Merrick         Tell you what      I thought last night, now, going home. Says I,      'Tis just like the look of a tadpole: if I saw      A tadpole silver as a dace that swam      Upside-down towards me through black water,      I'ld see the plain spit of that star and his tail.     Sollers      And how does your thought go?     Dowser         It's what I know! -      A tadpole and a rocket! - My dear God,      And I can still laugh out! - What do you think      Your tadpole's made of? What lets your rocket fling      Those streaming sparks across the half of night,      Splashing the burning spray of its haste among      The quiet business of the other stars?      Ay, that's a fiery jet it leaves behind      In such enormous drift! What sort of fire      Is spouted so, spouted and never quenching? -      There is no name for that star's fire: it is      The fire that was before the world was made,      The fire that all the things we live among      Remember being; and whitest fire we know      Is its poor copy in their dreaming trance!     Huff      That would be hell fire.     Dowser         Ay, if you like, hell fire,      Hell fire flying through the night! 'Twould be      A thing to blink about, a blast of it      Swept in your face, eh? and a thing to set      The whole stuff of the earth smoking rarely?      Which of you said ' the heat's a wonder to-night' ?      You have not done with marvelling. There'll come      A night when all your clothes are a pickle of sweat,      And, for all that, the sweat on your salty skin      Shall dry and crack, in the breathing of wind      That's like a draught come through an open'd furnace.      The leafage of the trees shall brown and faint,      All sappy growth turning to brittle rubbish      As the near heat of the star strokes the green earth;      And time shall brush the fields as visibly      As a rough hand brushes against the nap      Of gleaming cloth - killing the season's colour,      Each hour charged with the wasting of a year;      And sailors panting on their warping ecks      Will watch the sea steam like broth about them.      You'll know what I know then! - That towering star      Hangs like a fiery buzzard in the night      Intent over our earth - Ay, now his journey      Points straight as a plummet's drop, down to us!     Huff         Why, that's the end of the world!     Dowser         You've said it now.     Sollers         What, soon? In a day or two?     Merrick         You can't mean that!     Vine      End of the World! Well now, I never thought      To hear the news of that. If you've the truth      In what you say, likely this is an evening      That we'll be talking over often and often.      'How was it, Sollers?' I'll say; ' or you, Merrick,      Do you mind clearly how he lookt? ' - And then -      ' " End of the world " he said, and drank - like that,      Solemn! ' - And right he was: he had it all      As sure as I have when my sow's to farrow.     Dowser      Are you making a joke of me? Keep your mind      For tippling while you can.     Vine             Was that a joke?      I'm always bad at seeing 'em, even my own.     Dowser      A fool's! 'Twill cheer you when the earth blows up      Like as it were all gunpowder.     Vine         You mean      The star will butt his burning head against us?      'Twill knock the world to flinders, I suppose?     Dowser      Ay, or with that wild, monstrous tail of his      Smash down upon the air, and make it bounce      Like water under the flukes of a harpooned whale,      And thrash it to a poisonous fire; and we      And all the life of the world drowned in blazing!     Vine      'Twill be a handsone sight. If my old wife      Were with me now! This would have suited her.      'I do like things to happen!' she would say;      Never shindy enough for her; and now      She's gone, and can't be seeing this!     Dowser         You poor fool.      How will it be a sight to you, when your eyes      Are scorcht to little cinders in your head?     Vine      Whether or no, there must be folks outside      Willing to know of this. I'll scatter your news.     [He goes. A short pause: then SOLLERS breaks out.]     Sollers      No, no; it woudn't do for me at all;      Nor for you neither, Merrick? End of the World?      Bogy! A parson's tale or a bairn's!     Merrick             That's it.      Your trade's a gift, easy as playing tunes.      But Sollers here and I, we've had to drill      Sinew and muscle into their hard lesson,      Until they work in timber and flowing iron      As kindly as I pick up my pint: your work      Grows in your nature, like plain speech in a child,      But we have learnt to think in a foreign tongue;      And something must come out of all our skill!      We shan't go sliding down as glib as you      Into notions of the End of the World.     Sollers      Give me a tree, you may say, and give me steel,      And I'll put forth my shapely mind; I'll make,      Out of my head like telling a well-known tale,      A wain that goes as comely on the roads      As a ship sailing, the lines of it true as gospel.      Have I learnt that all for nothing? - O no!      End of the World? It wouldn't do at all.      No more making of wains, after I've spent      My time in getting the right skill in my hands?     Dowser      Ay, you begin to feel it now, I think;      But you complain like boys for a game spoilt:      Shaping your carts, forging your iron! But Life,      Life, the mother who lets her children play      So seriously busy, trade and craft, -      Life with her skill of a million years' perfection      To make her heart's delighted glorying      Of sunlight, and of clouds about the moon,      Spring lighting her daffodils, and corn      Ripening gold to ruddy, and giant seas,      And mountains sitting in their purple clothes -      O life I am thinking of, life the wonder,      All blotcht out by a brutal thrust of fire      Like a midge that clumsy thumb squashes and smears.     Huff      Let me but see the show beginning, though!      You'ld mind me then! O I would like you all      To watch how I should figure, when the star      Brandishes over the whole air its flame      Of thundering fire; and naught but yellow rubbish      Parcht on the perishing ground, and there are tongues      Chapt with thirst, glad to lap stinking ponds,      And pale glaring faces spying about      On the earth withering, terror the only speech!      Look for me then, and see me stand alone      Easy and pleasant in the midst of it all.      Did you not make your merry scoff of me?      Was it your talk, that when you shameless pair      Threw their wantoning in my face like dirt,      I had no heart against them but to grumble?      You would be saying that, I know! But now,      Now I believe it's time for you to see      My patient heart at last taking its wages.     Sollers      Pull up, man! Screw the brake on your running tongue,      Else it will rattle you down the tumbling way      This fellow's gone.     Merrick         And one man's enough      With brain quagged axle-deep in crazy mire.      We won't have you beside him in his puddles,      And calling out with him on the End of the World      To heave you out with a vengeance.     Huff             What you want!      Have I not borne enough to make me know      I must be righted sometime? - And what else      Would break the hardy sin in them, which lets      Their souls parade so daring and so tall      Under God's hate and mine? What else could pay      For all my wrong but a blow of blazing anger      Striking down to shiver the earth, and change      Their strutting wickedness to horror and crying?     Merrick      Be quiet, Huff! If you mean to believe      This dowser's stuff, and join in his bedlam,      By God, you'll have to reckon with my fist.     [SHALE comes in. HUFF glares at him speechless, but with wrath evidently working.]     Shale      Where's the joker? You, is it? Here's hot news      You've brought us; all the valley's hissing aloud,      And makes as much of you falling into it      As a pail of water would of a glowing coal.     Sollers      Don't you start burbling too, Shale.     Shale             That's the word!      Burbling, simmering, ay, and bumpy-boiling :      All the women are mobbed together close      Under the witan-trees, and their full minds      Boil like so many pans slung on a fire.      Why starlings trooping in a copse in fall      Could make no scandal like it.     Merrick             What is it, man?     Shale      End of the World! The flying star! End of the World!     Sollers             They don't believe it though?     Shale              What? the whole place      Has gone just randy over it!     Merrick             Hold your noise!     Sollers             I shall be daft if this goes on.     Shale         Ay, so?      The End of the World's been here? You look as though      You'd startled lately. And there's the virtuous man!      How would End of the World suit our good Huff,      Our old crab-verjuice Huff?     HUFF [seizing the DOWSER and bring him up in front of Shale]     Look at him there!      This is the man I told of when you      Were talking small of sin. You made it out,      Did you, a fool's mere nasty game, like dogs      That snuggle in muck, and grin and roll themselves      With snorting pleasure? Ah, but you are wrong.      'Tis something that goes thrusting dreadfully      Its wilful bravery of evil against      The worth and right of goodness in the world:      Ay, do you see how his face still brags at me?      And long it has been, the time he's had to walk      Lording about me with his wickedness.      Do you know what he dared? I had a wife,      A flighty pretty linnet-headed girl,      But mine: he practised on her with his eyes;      He knew of luring glances, and she went      After his calling lust: and all since then      They've lived together, fleering in my face,      Pleased in sight of the windows of my house      With doing wrong, and making my disgrace.      O but wait here with me; wait till your news      Is not to be mistaken, for the way      The earth buckles and singes like hot boards:      You'll surely see how dreadful sin can be      Then, when you mark these two running about,      With raging fear for what they did against me      Buzzing close to their souls, stinging their hearts,      And they like scampering beasts when clegs are fierce,      Or flinging themselves low as the ground to writhe,      Their arms hugging their desperate heads. And then      You'll see what 'tis to be an upright man,      Who keeps a patient anger for his wrongs      Thinking of judgment coming - you will see that      When you mark how my looks hunt these wretches,      And smile upon their groans and posturing anguish.      O watch how calm I'll be, when the blazing air      Judges their wickedness; you watch me then      Looking delighted, like a nobleman      Who sees his horse winning an easy race.     Merrick      You fool, Huff, you believe it now!     Huff             You fool,      Merrick, how should I not believe a thing      That calls aloud on my mind and spirit, and they      Answer to it like starving conquering soldiers      Told to break out and loot?     Shale         You vile old wasp!     Sollers      We've talkt enough: let's all go home and sleep;      There might be a fiend in the air about us, one      Who pours his will into our minds to see      How we can frighten one another.     Huff             A fiend!      Shale will soon have the flapping wings of a fiend,      And flaming wings, beating about his head.      Ther'll be no air for Shale, very soon now,      But the breathing of a fiend: the star's coming!      The star that breathes a horrible fury of fire      Like glaring fog into the empty night;      And in the gust of its wrath the world will soon      Shrivel and spin like paper in a furnace.      I knew they both would have to pay me at last      With sight of their damned souls for all my wrong!     Shale             Somebody stop his gab.     Merrick [seizing the DOWSER and shaking him]      Is it the truth we're in the way of the star?     A crowd of men and women burst in and shout confusedly.      1. Look out for the star!     2. 'Tis moving, moving.      3. Grows as you stare at it.     4. Bigger than ever.      1. Down it comes with a diving pounce,      As though it had lookt for us and at last found us.      2. O so near and coming so quick!      3. And how the buring hairs of its tail      Do seem surely to quiver for speed.      4. We saw its great tail gwitch behind it.      'Tis come so near, so gleaming near.      1. The tail is wagging!     2. Come out and see!      3. The star is wagging its tail and eyeing us -      4. Like a cat huncht to leap on a bird.     Merrick      Out of my way and let me see for myself.     [They all begin to hustle out: HUFF speaks in midst of the turmoil.]     Huff      Ay, now begins the just man's reward;      And hatred of the evil thing      Now is to be satisfied.      Wrong ventured out against me and braved:      And I'll be glad to see all breathing pleasure      Burn as foolishly to naught      As a moth in candle flame,      If I but have my will to watch over those      Who injured me bawling hoarse heartless fear.     [They are all gone but HUFF, SHALE and the DOWSER.]     Shale      As for you, let you and the women make      Your howling scare of this; I'll stand and laugh.      But if it truly were the End of the World,      I'ld be the man to face it out, not you:      I who have let life go delighted through me,      Not you, who've sulkt away your chance of life      In mumping about being paid for goodness.     [Going.]     Huff [after him]      You wait, you wait!     [He follows the rest. ]     Dowser [alone]         Naught but a plague of flies!      I cannot do with noises, and light fools      Terrified round me; I must go out and think      Where there is quiet and no one near. O, think!      Life that has done such wonders with its thinking,      And never daunted in imagining;      That has put on the sun and the shining night,      The flowering of the earth and tides of the sea,      And irresistible rage of fate itself,      All these as garments for its spirit's journey -      O now this life, in the brute chance of things,      Murder'd, uselessly murder'd! And naught else      For ever but senseless rounds of hurrying motion      That cannot glory in itself. O no!      I will not think of that; I'll blind my brain      With fancying the splendours of destruction;      When like a burr in the star's fiery mane      The crackling earth is caught and rusht along,      The forests on the mountains blazing so,      That from the rocks of ore beneath them come      White-hot rivers of smelted metal pouring      Across the plains to roar into the sea. . . .     The curtain is lowered for a few moments only.