Eugene O'Neill Collection (eBook)

Eugene O'Neill (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2018
411 Seiten
Charles River Editors (Verlag)
978-1-5378-0267-1 (ISBN)

Infos

Karpathos publishes the greatest works of history's greatest authors and collects them to make it easy and affordable for readers to have them all at the push of a button.  All of our collections include a linked table of contents.

Eugene O'Neill was a prominent American playwright in the 20th century. O'Neill won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1936 and he also was one of the first American writers of realism.  This collection includes the following:

The Straw

Anna Christie

The First Man

The Hairy Ape

Tomorrow

Textauszug

ACT ONE: SCENE ONE

The kitchen of the Carmody home on the outskirts of a manufacturing town in Connecticut. On the left, forward, the sink. Farther back, two windows looking out on the yard. In the left corner, rear, the icebox. Immediately to the right of it, in the rear wall, a window opening on the side porch. To the right of this, a china cupboard, and a door leading into the hall where the main front entrance to the house and the stairs to the floor above are situated. On the right, to the rear, a door opening on to the dining room. Further forward, the kitchen range with scuttle, wood box, etc. In the centre of the room, a table with a red and white cloth. Four cane-bottomed chairs are pushed under the table. In front of the stove, two battered wicker rocking chairs. The floor is partly covered by linoleum strips. The walls are papered a light cheerful colour. Several old framed picture-supplement prints hang from nails. Everything has a clean, neatly-kept appearance. The supper dishes are piled in the sink ready for washing. A saucepan of water simmers on the stove.

It is about eight o’clock in the evening of a bitter cold day in late February of the year 1912.

As the curtain rises, Bill Carmody is discovered fitting in a rocker by the stove, reading a newspaper and smoking a blackened clay pipe. He is a man of fifty, heavy-set and round-shouldered, with long muscular arms and swollen-veined, hairy hands. His face is bony and ponderous; his nose short and squat; his mouth large, thick-lipped and harsh; his complexion mottled—red, purple-streaked, and freckled; his hair, short and stubby with a bald spot on the crown. The expression of his small, blue eyes is one of selfish cunning. His voice is loud and hoarse. He wears a flannel shirt, open at the neck, criss-crossed by red braces; black, baggy trousers grey with dust; muddy brogues.

His youngest daughter, Mary, is sitting on a chair by the table, front, turning over the pages of a picture book. She is a delicate, dark-haired, blue-eyed, quiet little girl about eight years old.

CARMODY (after watching the child’s preoccupation for a moment, in a tone of half exasperated amusement). Well, but you’re the quiet one, surely! (Mary looks up at him with a shy smile, her eyes still full of dreams.) Glory be to God, I’d not know a soul was alive in the room, barrin’ myself. What is it you’re at, Mary, that there’s not a word out of you?

MARY. I’m looking at the pictures.

CARMODY. It’s the dead spit and image of your sister Eileen you are, with your nose always in a book; and you’re like your mother, too, God rest her soul. (He crosses himself with pious unction and Mary also does so.) It’s Nora and Tom has the high spirits in them like their father; and Billy, too,—if he is a lazy, shiftless divil—has the fightin’ Carmody blood like me. You’re a Cullen like your mother’s people. They always was dreamin’ their lives out. (He lights his pipe and shakes his head with ponderous gravity.) There’s no good in too many books, I’ll tell you. It’s out rompin’ and playin’ with your brother and sister you ought to be at your age, not carin’ a fig for books. (With a glance at the clock.) Is that auld fool of a doctor stayin’ the night? If he had his wits about him he’d know in a jiffy ‘tis only a cold has taken Eileen, and give her the medicine. Run out in the hall, Mary, and see if you hear him. He may have sneaked away by the front door.

MARY (goes out into the hall, rear, and comes back). He’s upstairs. I heard him talking to Eileen.

CARMODY. Close the door, ye little divil! There’s a freezin’ draught comin’ in. (She does so and comes back to her chair. Carmody continues with a sneer.) It’s mad I am to be thinkin’ he’d go without gettin’ his money—the like of a doctor! (Angrily.) Rogues and thieves they are, the lot of them, robbin’ the poor like us! I’ve no use for their drugs at all. They only keep you sick to pay more visits. I’d not have sent for this bucko if Eileen didn’t scare me by faintin’.

MARY (anxiously). Is Eileen very sick, Papa?

CARMODY (spitting—roughly). If she is, it’s her own fault entirely—weakenin’ her health by readin’ here in the house. This’ll be a lesson for her, and for you, too. (Irritably.) Put down that book on the table and leave it be. I’ll have no more readin’ in this house, or I’ll take the strap to you!

MARY (laying the book on the table). It’s only pictures.

CARMODY. No back talk! Pictures or not, it’s all the same mopin’ and lazin’ in it. (After a pause—morosely.) It’s the bad luck I’ve been havin’ altogether this last year since your mother died. Who’s to do the work and look after Nora and Tom and yourself, if Eileen is bad took and has to stay in her bed? I’ll have to get Mrs. Brennan come look after the house. That means money, too, and where’s it to come from? All that I’ve saved from slavin’ and sweatin’ in the sun with a gang of lazy Dagoes’ll be up the spout in no time. (Bitterly.) What a fool a man is to be raisin’ a raft of children and him not a millionaire! (With lugubrious self-pity.) Mary, dear, it’s a black curse God put on me when he took your mother just when I needed her most. (Mary commences to sob. Carmody starts and looks at her angrily.) What are you sniffin’ at?

MARY (tearfully). I was thinking—of Mamma.

CARMODY (scornfully). It’s late you are with your tears, and her cold in her grave for a year. Stop it, I’m tellin’ you! (Mary gulps back her sobs.)

(There is a noise of childish laughter and screams from the street in front. The outside door is opened and slammed, footsteps pound along the hall. The door in the rear is pushed open, and Nora and Tom rush in breathlessly. Nora is a bright, vivacious, red-haired girl of eleven—pretty after an elfish, mischievous fashion—light-hearted and robust.)

(Tom resembles Nora in disposition and appearance. A healthy, good-humoured youngster with a shock of sandy hair. He is a year younger than Nora. They are followed into the room, a moment later, by their brother Billy, who is evidently loftily disgusted with their antics. Billy is a fourteen-year-old replica of his father, whom he imitates even to the hoarse, domineering tone of voice.)

CARMODY (grumpily). Ah, here you are, the lot of you. Shut that door after you! What’s the use in me spendin’ money for coal if all you do is to let the cold night in the room itself?

NORA (hopping over to him—teasingly). Me and Tom had a race, Papa. I beat him. (She sticks her tongue out at her younger brother.) Slow poke!

TOM. You didn’t beat me, neither!

NORA. I did, too!

TOM. You did not! You didn’t play fair. You tripped me comin’ up the steps. Brick-top! Cheater!

NORA (flaring up). You’re a liar! You stumbled over your own big feet, clumsy bones! And I beat you fair Didn’t I, Papa?

CARMODY (with a grin). You did, darlin’, and fair, too. (Tom slinks back to the chair in the rear of table, sulking. Carmody pats Nora’s red hair with delighted pride.) Sure it’s you can beat the divil himself!

NORA (sticks out her tongue again at Tom). See? Liar! (She goes and perches on the table near Mary, who is staring sadly in front of her.)

CARMODY (to Billy—irritably). Did you get the plug for me I told you?

BILLY. Sure. (He takes a plug of tobacco from his pocket and hands it to his father. Nora slides down off her perch and disappears, unnoticed, under the table.)

CARMODY. It’s a great wonder you didn’t forget it—and me without a chew. (He bites off a piece and tucks it into his cheek.)

TOM (suddenly clutching at his leg with a yell). Ouch! Darn you! (He kicks frantically at something under the table, but Nora scrambles out at the other end, grinning.)

CARMODY (angrily). Shut your big mouth! What is the matter with you at all?

TOM (indignantly). She pinched me—hard as she could, too—and look at her laughin’!

NORA (hopping on the table again). Cry-baby! I owed you one.

TOM. I’ll fix you. I’ll tell Eileen, wait ‘n’ see!

NORA. Tattle-tale! I don’t care. Eileen’s sick.

TOM. That’s why you dast do it. You dasn’t if she was up. I’ll get even, you bet!

CARMODY (exasperated). Shut up your noise! Go up to bed, the two of you, and no more talk, and you go with them, Mary.

NORA (giving a quick tug at Mary’s hair). Come on, Mary. Wake up.

MARY. Ow! (She begins to cry.)

CARMODY (raising his voice furiously). Hush your noise, you soft, weak thing, you! It’s nothin’ but blubberin’ you do be doin’ all the time. (He stands up threateningly.) I’ll have a moment’s peace, I will! Off to bed with you before I get the strap! It’s crazy mad you all get the moment Eileen’s away from you. Go on, now! (They scurry out of the rear door.) And be quiet or I’ll be up to you!

NORA (sticks her head back in the door). Can I say good-night to Eileen, Papa?

...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 22.3.2018
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Lyrik / Dramatik ► Dramatik / Theater
• Schlagworte: American • anna christie • Classic • Drama • Fiction • performing arts • the hairy ape
• ISBN-10: 1-5378-0267-4 / 1537802674
• ISBN-13: 978-1-5378-0267-1 / 9781537802671