A young man stumbles into a rural public house in western Ireland claiming to be on the run after having killed his father. He immediately becomes a source of awe and an object of adoration, and even love. But what happens when the inhabitants of this tiny village find out all is not as the stranger claims?
J. M. Synge first presented The Playboy of the Western World at the Abbey Theatre in Dublin on the 26th of January, 1907. The performance immediately offended Irish nationalists by seemingly insulting the Irish people and language, and the general public, by being an offense against moral order. Before it was even finished, it was disrupted by a riot that soon spread out into the city. When it was performed in 1911 in the U.S., the play was again greeted with scorn and the company arrested for an immoral performance.
But as Synge himself attempts to explain in the preface to his play, rather than attack Irish Gaelic, he wanted to show the relationship between the imagination of the Irish country people and their speech, which is “rich and living,” and that his use of such language reflects reality in a way missing from other modern drama. He later insisted that his plot was not to be taken as social realism, but died in 1909 before the play finally gained broader appeal in the wider world. Since then the significance of The Playboy of the Western World has been recognized and celebrated both for its characterizations and its rich use of dialect.
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his own, like an old braying jackass strayed upon the rocks? To Christy. It’s many would be in dread to bring your like into their house for to end them, maybe, with a sudden end; but I’m a decent man of Ireland, and I liefer face the grave untimely and I seeing a score of grandsons growing up little gallant swearers by the name of God, than go peopling my bedside with puny weeds the like of what you’d breed, I’m thinking, out of Shaneen Keogh. He joins their hands. A daring fellow is the jewel of the world, and a man did split his father’s middle with a single clout, should have the bravery of ten, so may God and Mary and St. Patrick bless you, and increase you from this mortal day.
Christy and Pegeen
Amen, O Lord!
Hubbub outside. Old Mahon rushes in, followed by all the crowd, and Widow Quin. He makes a rush at Christy, knocks him down, and begins to beat him.
Pegeen
Dragging back his arm. Stop that, will you. Who are you at all?
Mahon
His father, God forgive me!
Pegeen
Drawing back. Is it rose from the dead?
Mahon
Do you think I look so easy quenched with the tap of a loy? Beats Christy again.
Pegeen
Glaring at Christy. And it’s lies you told, letting on you had him slitted, and you nothing at all.
Christy
Clutching Mahon’s stick. He’s not my father. He’s a raving maniac would scare the world. Pointing to Widow Quin. Herself knows it is true.
Crowd
You’re fooling Pegeen! The Widow Quin seen him this day, and you likely knew! You’re a liar!
Christy
Dumbfounded. It’s himself was a liar, lying stretched out with an open head on him, letting on he was dead.
Mahon
Weren’t you off racing the hills before I got my breath with the start I had seeing you turn on me at all?
Pegeen
And to think of the coaxing glory we had given him, and he after doing nothing but hitting a soft blow and chasing northward in a sweat of fear. Quit off from this.
Christy
Piteously. You’ve seen my doings this day, and let you save me from the old man; for why would you be in such a scorch of haste to spur me to destruction now?
Pegeen
It’s there your treachery is spurring me, till I’m hard set to think you’re the one I’m after lacing in my heartstrings half-an-hour gone by. To Mahon. Take him on from this, for I think bad the world should see me raging for a Munster liar, and the fool of men.
Mahon
Rise up now to retribution, and come on with me.
Crowd
Jeeringly. There’s the playboy! There’s the lad thought he’d rule the roost in Mayo. Slate him now, mister.
Christy
Getting up in shy terror. What is it drives you to torment me here, when I’d asked the thunders of the might of God to blast me if I ever did hurt to any saving only that one single blow.
Mahon
Loudly. If you didn’t, you’re a poor good-for-nothing, and isn’t it by the like of you the sins of the whole world are committed?
Christy
Raising his hands. In the name of the Almighty God. …
Mahon
Leave troubling the Lord God. Would you have him sending down droughts, and fevers, and the old hen and the cholera morbus?
Christy
To Widow Quin. Will you come between us and protect me now?
Widow Quin
I’ve tried a lot, God help me, and my share is done.
Christy
Looking round in desperation. And I must go back into my torment is it, or run off like a vagabond straying through the unions with the dusts of August making mudstains in the gullet of my throat, or the winds of March blowing on me till I’d take an oath I felt them making whistles of my ribs within?
Sara
Ask Pegeen to aid you. Her like does often change.
Christy
I will not then, for there’s torment in the splendour of her like, and she a girl any moon of midnight would take pride to meet, facing southwards on the heaths of Keel. But what did I want crawling forward to scorch my understanding at her flaming brow?
Pegeen
To Mahon, vehemently, fearing she will break into tears. Take him on from this or I’ll set the young lads to destroy him here.
Mahon
Going to him, shaking his stick. Come on now if you wouldn’t have the company to see you skelped.
Pegeen
Half laughing, through her tears. That’s it, now the world will see him pandied, and he an ugly liar was playing off the hero, and the fright of men.
Christy
To Mahon, very sharply. Leave me go!
Crowd
That’s it. Now Christy. If them two set fighting, it will lick the world.
Mahon
Making a grab at Christy. Come here to me.
Christy
More threateningly. Leave me go, I’m saying.
Mahon
I will maybe, when your legs is limping, and your back is blue.
Crowd
Keep it up, the two of you. I’ll back the old one. Now the playboy.
Christy
In low and intense voice. Shut your yelling, for if you’re after making a mighty man of me this day by the power of a lie, you’re setting me now to think if it’s a poor thing to be lonesome, it’s worse maybe to go mixing with the fools of earth.
Mahon makes a movement towards him.
Christy
Almost shouting. Keep off … lest I do show a blow unto the lot of you would set the guardian angels winking in the clouds above. He swings round with a sudden rapid movement and picks up a loy.
Crowd
Half frightened, half amused. He’s going mad! Mind yourselves! Run from the idiot!
Christy
If I am an idiot, I’m after hearing my voice this day saying words would raise the topknot on
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