# The Well of the Saints: every role by lines, words, and stage time

> J. M. Synge. 9 speaking roles, 12,422 words, about 89 minutes of speech.

- URL: https://www.offbook.com/plays/the-well-of-the-saints
- Last updated: 2026-10-08

**Martin Doul** has the most to say in The Well of the Saints: about 603 lines and 5,449 words, 43.9% of the play. Synge’s play follows Martin Doul and Mary Doul, two blind beggars whose sight a wandering saint restores, with unexpected results. Martin Doul dominates the text with over two fifths of the words, more than twice anyone else. Mary Doul and Timmy each hold about a sixth, and the Saint speaks only in Acts 1 and 3.

- Speaking roles: 9
- Scenes: 3
- Words: 12,422
- Speech time: 89 min

## Every role, largest first

| Role | Lines | Words | Share | Minutes | Scenes |
| --- | --- | --- | --- | --- | --- |
| Martin Doul | 603 | 5,449 | 43.9% | 38.9 | 3 |
| Mary Doul | 248 | 2,166 | 17.4% | 15.5 | 3 |
| Timmy | 241 | 2,074 | 16.7% | 14.8 | 3 |
| Saint | 138 | 1,262 | 10.2% | 9.0 | 2 |
| Molly Byrne | 132 | 1,138 | 9.2% | 8.1 | 3 |
| Mat Simon | 18 | 162 | 1.3% | 1.2 | 2 |
| Bride | 13 | 85 | 0.7% | 0.6 | 1 |
| People | 9 | 63 | 0.5% | 0.5 | 2 |
| Girl | 3 | 23 | 0.2% | 0.2 | 1 |

## Who speaks in which scene

Words each role speaks in each scene (scene: words). Scenes: Act 1 = Act 1; Act 2 = Act 2; Act 3 = Act 3.

- **Martin Doul**: Act 1 (1,606), Act 2 (1,940), Act 3 (1,903)
- **Mary Doul**: Act 1 (1,029), Act 2 (156), Act 3 (981)
- **Timmy**: Act 1 (865), Act 2 (911), Act 3 (298)
- **Saint**: Act 1 (598), Act 3 (664)
- **Molly Byrne**: Act 1 (531), Act 2 (490), Act 3 (117)

## The longest speeches

| Speech | Scene | Words | Lines |
| --- | --- | --- | --- |
| Martin Doul: “—The devil mend Mary Doul for putting lies on me, and letting on she was grand. The devil mend the old Saint for letting me see it was lies. The devil mend Timmy the smith for killing me with hard work, and keeping me with an empty, windy stomach in me, in the day and in the night. Ten thousand devils mend the soul of Molly Byrne— —and the bad, wicked souls is hidden in all the women of the world. It’s lonesome I’ll be from this day, and if living people is a bad lot, yet Mary Doul, herself, and she a dirty, wrinkled-looking hag, was better maybe to be sitting along with than no one at all. I’ll be getting my death now, I’m thinking, sitting alone in the cold air, hearing the night coming, and the blackbirds flying round in the briars crying to themselves, the time you’ll hear one cart getting off a long way in the east, and another cart getting off a long way in the west, and a dog barking maybe, and a little wind turning the sticks. I’ll be destroyed sitting alone and losing my senses this time the way I’m after losing my sight, for it’d make any person afeard to be sitting up hearing the sound of his breath— —and the noise of his feet, when it’s a power of queer things do be stirring, little sticks breaking, and the grass moving— till you’d take your dying oath on sun and moon a thing was breathing on the stones. I’ll be going now, I’m thinking, but I’m not sure what place my stick’s in, and I’m destroyed with terror and dread. There’s a thing with a cold, living face on it sitting up at my side. My road is lost on me now! Oh, merciful God, set my foot on the path this day, and I’ll be saying prayers morning and night, and not straining my ear after young girls, or doing any bad thing till I die.” | Act 3 | 338 | 34 |
| Saint: “May the Lord who has given you sight send a little sense into your heads, the way it won’t be on your two selves you’ll be looking—on two pitiful sinners of the earth—but on the splendour of the Spirit of God, you’ll see an odd time shining out through the big hills, and steep streams falling to the sea. For if it’s on the like of that you do be thinking, you’ll not be minding the faces of men, but you’ll be saying prayers and great praises, till you’ll be living the way the great saints do be living, with little but old sacks, and skin covering their bones. Leave him go now, you’re seeing he’s quiet again. And let you not be raising your voice, a bad thing in a woman; but let the lot of you, who have seen the power of the Lord, be thinking on it in the dark night, and be saying to yourselves it’s great pity and love He has for the poor, starving people of Ireland. And now the Lord send blessing to you all, for I am going on to Annagolan, where there is a deaf woman, and to Laragh, where there are two men without sense, and to Glenassil, where there are children blind from their birth; and then I’m going to sleep this night in the bed of the holy Kevin, and to be praising God, and asking great blessing on you all.” | Act 1 | 245 | 25 |
| Martin Doul: “If I’m a poor dark sinner I’ve sharp ears, God help me, and it’s well I heard the little splash of the water you had there in the can. Go on now, holy father, for if you’re a fine Saint itself, it’s more sense is in a blind man, and more power maybe than you’re thinking at all. Let you walk on now with your worn feet, and your welted knees, and your fasting, holy ways have left you with a big head on you and a thin pitiful arm. For if it’s a right some of you have to be working and sweating the like of Timmy the smith, and a right some of you have to be fasting and praying and talking holy talk the like of yourself, I’m thinking it’s a good right ourselves have to be sitting blind, hearing a soft wind turning round the little leaves of the spring and feeling the sun, and we not tormenting our souls with the sight of the gray days, and the holy men, and the dirty feet is trampling the world.” | Act 3 | 183 | 19 |
| Martin Doul: “And that’s the last thing I’m to set my sight on in the life of the world—the villainy of a woman and the bloody strength of a man. Oh, God, pity a poor, blind fellow, the way I am this day with no strength in me to do hurt to them at all. Yet if I’ve no strength in me I’ve a voice left for my prayers, and may God blight them this day, and my own soul the same hour with them, the way I’ll see them after, Molly Byrne and Timmy the smith, the two of them on a high bed, and they screeching in hell. … It’ll be a grand thing that time to look on the two of them; and they twisting and roaring out, and twisting and roaring again, one day and the next day, and each day always and ever. It’s not blind I’ll be that time, and it won’t be hell to me, I’m thinking, but the like of heaven itself; and it’s fine care I’ll be taking the Lord Almighty doesn’t know.” | Act 2 | 180 | 18 |
| Martin Doul: “That’s Timmy, I know Timmy by the black of his head. … That’s Mat Simon, I know Mat by the length of his legs. … That should be Patch Ruadh, with the gamey eyes in him, and the fiery hair. Oh, it was no lie they told me, Mary Doul. Oh, glory to God and the seven saints I didn’t die and not see you at all. The blessing of God on the water, and the feet carried it round through the land. The blessing of God on this day, and them that brought me the Saint, for it’s grand hair you have , and soft skin, and eyes would make the saints, if they were dark awhile and seeing again, fall down out of the sky. Hold up your head, Mary, the way I’ll see it’s richer I am than the great kings of the east. Hold up your head, I’m saying, for it’s soon you’ll be seeing me, and I not a bad one at all.” | Act 1 | 165 | 17 |
| Mary Doul: “Ah, God help me … God help me; the blackness wasn’t so black at all the other time as it is this time, and it’s destroyed I’ll be now, and hard set to get my living working alone, when it’s few are passing and the winds are cold. I’m thinking short days will be long days to me from this time, and I sitting here, not seeing a blink, or hearing a word, and no thought in my mind but long prayers that Martin Doul’ll get his reward in a short while for the villainy of his heart. It’s great jokes the people’ll be making now, I’m thinking, and they pass me by, pointing their fingers maybe, and asking what place is himself, the way it’s no quiet or decency I’ll have from this day till I’m an old woman with long white hair and it twisting from my brow. There’s a queer, slouching step coming on the road. … God help me, he’s coming surely.” | Act 3 | 164 | 17 |
| Martin Doul: “It’s the truth I’m telling you. And you’d do right not to marry a man is after looking out a long while on the bad days of the world; for what way would the like of him have fit eyes to look on yourself, when you rise up in the morning and come out of the little door you have above in the lane, the time it’d be a fine thing if a man would be seeing, and losing his sight, the way he’d have your two eyes facing him, and he going the roads, and shining above him, and he looking in the sky, and springing up from the earth, the time he’d lower his head, in place of the muck that seeing men do meet all roads spread on the world.” | Act 2 | 133 | 14 |
| Martin Doul: “Them is great sights, holy father. … What was it I seen when I first opened my eyes but your own bleeding feet, and they cut with the stones? That was a great sight, maybe, of the image of God. … And what was it I seen my last day but the villainy of hell looking out from the eyes of the girl you’re coming to marry—the Lord forgive you—with Timmy the smith. That was a great sight, maybe. And wasn’t it great sights I seen on the roads when the north winds would be driving, and the skies would be harsh, till you’d see the horses and the asses, and the dogs itself, maybe, with their heads hanging, and they closing their eyes—” | Act 3 | 124 | 13 |
| Saint: “It’s a hard life you’ve had not seeing sun or moon, or the holy priests itself praying to the Lord, but it’s the like of you who are brave in a bad time will make a fine use of the gift of sight the Almighty God will bring to you today. It’s on a bare starving rock that there’s the grave of the four beauties of God, the way it’s little wonder, I’m thinking, if it’s with bare starving people the water should be used. So it’s to the like of yourselves I do be going, who are wrinkled and poor, a thing rich men would hardly look at at all, but would throw a coin to or a crust of bread.” | Act 1 | 122 | 13 |
| Martin Doul: “Keep off now, the yelping lot of you, or it’s more than one maybe will get a bloody head on him with the pitch of my stone. Keep off now, and let you not be afeard; for we’re going on the two of us to the towns of the south, where the people will have kind voices maybe, and we won’t know their bad looks or their villainy at all. Come along now and we’ll be walking to the south, for we’ve seen too much of everyone in this place, and it’s small joy we’d have living near them, or hearing the lies they do be telling from the gray of dawn till the night.” | Act 3 | 115 | 12 |

## Questions actors ask

### Who has the most lines in The Well of the Saints?

Martin Doul, with about 603 lines and 5,449 words, 43.9% of everything spoken in the play. Mary Doul is next, with about 248 lines (17.4%).

### How long is The Well of the Saints?

The full text has 12,422 spoken words, about 89 minutes at 140 words a minute before pauses, scene changes, and cuts. Most productions cut the text, so running times vary.

### How many speaking roles are in The Well of the Saints?

9 named roles speak in this edition, across 3 scenes. 4 of them have less than 2% of the words, which is why small parts are often doubled.

## How we count

Counts are computed from the full text of the [Standard Ebooks edition](https://standardebooks.org/ebooks/j-m-synge/the-well-of-the-saints) (public domain; retrieved 2026-10-08). Words are every spoken word, with stage directions removed. Lines are verse lines as printed, plus prose at 10 words a line, because prose has no fixed line breaks; editions differ, so other sources give slightly different line counts. Time is words at 140 words a minute, before pauses and stage business. A role is counted in a scene when it speaks there. To count a script that is not in the library, paste it into the [script line counter](https://www.offbook.com/tools/script-line-counter).