YERMA by Federico Garcia Lorca

ACT TWO: Scene 1

ACT TWO

SCENE 1

A fast flowing mountain stream where the village women wash their clothes. The laundresses are arranged at vari­ous levels.

Song before the curtain rises.

SONG

Here in this icy current

let me wash your lace,

just like a glowing jasmine.

is your laughing face.

FIRST LAUNDRESS. I don't like to be talking.

SECOND LAUNDRESS. Well, we talk here.

FOURTH LAUNDRESS. And there's no harm in it.

FIFTH LAUNDRESS. Whoever wants a good name, let her earn it.

FOURTH LAUNDRESS.

I planted thyme,

I watched it grow.

Who wants a good name

Must live just so.

They laugh

FIFTH LAUNDRESS. That's the way we talk.

FIRST LAUNDRESS. But we never really know anything for certain.

FOURTH LAUNDRESS. Well, it's certain enough that her husband's brought his two sisters to live with them.

FIFTH LAUNDRESS, The old maids?

FOURTH LAUNDRESS. Yes. They used to watch the church, and now they watch their sister-in-law. I wouldn't be able to live with them.

FIRST LAUNDRESS. Why not?

FOURTH LAUNDRESS. They'd give me the creeps. They're like those big leaves that quickly spring up over graves. They're smeared with wax. They grow inwards. I figure they must fry their food with lamp oil.

THIRD LAUNDRESS. And they're in the house now?

FOURTH LAUNDRESS. Since yesterday. Her husband's going back to his fields again now.

FIRST LAUNDRESS. But can't anyone find out what hap­pened?

FIFTH LAUNDRESS. She spent the night before last sitting on her doorstep-in spite of the cold.

FIRST LAUNDRESS. But why?

FOURTH LAUNDRESS. It's hard work for her to stay in the house.

FIFTH LAUNDRESS. That's the way those mannish creatures are. When they could be making lace, or apple cakes, they like to climb up on the roof, or go wade barefoot in the river.

FIRST LAUNDRESS. Who are you to be talking like that? She hasn't any children but that's not her fault.

FOURTH LAUNDRESS. The one who wants children, has them. These spoiled, lazy and soft girls aren't up to having a wrinkled belly.

They laugh.

THIRD LAUNDRESS. And they dash face powder and rouge on themselves, and pin on sprigs of oleander, and go look­ing for some man who's not their husband.