Poems

A PEASANTHow she screamed out!SECOND PEASANTAnd maybe we shall scream so.THIRD PEASANTI tell you there is no such place as hell.FIRST MERCHANTCan such a trifle turn you from your profit?Come, deal; come, deal.MIDDLE-AGED MANMaster, I am afraid.FIRST MERCHANTI bought your soul, and there's no sense in fearNow the soul's gone.MIDDLE-AGED MANGive me my soul again.WOMAN (going on her knees and clinging to MERCHANT)And take this money too, and give me mine.SECOND MERCHANTBear bastards, drink or follow some wild fancy;For sighs and cries are the soul's work,And you have none.

(Throws the woman off.)

PEASANTCome, let's away.ANOTHER PEASANTYes, yes.ANOTHER PEASANTCome quickly; if that woman had not screamedI would have lost my soul.ANOTHER PEASANTCome, come away.

(They turn to door, but are stopped by shouts of "Countess Cathleen! Countess Cathleen!")

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