The Playboy of the Western World.
A lonely public house perches on a dune above the wild coast of Mayo; a flute and pipes keen an eerie obbligato to the complaining of the surf. Into the tavern stumbles a tatterdemalion lad, and to the landlord's daughter he says: "I'd trouble you for a glass of porter, woman of the house. I'm destroyed walking."
This touches off the torrent of language, the beautiful cadences of the Irish tongue, that ripples and sometimes spews through John Millington Synge's 1907 comedy. Such talk has not been heard since the poets of the Dingle Bay, and it...
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