Michael (gasping and sinking on a chair). Oh, aren’t you a heathen daughter to go shaking the fat of my heart, and I swamped and drownded with the weight of drink? Would you have them turning on me the way that I’d be roaring to the dawn of day with the wind upon my heart? Have you not a word to aid me, Shaneen? Are you not jealous at all?

Shaneen (in great misery). I’d be afeard to be jealous of a man did slay his da.

Pegeen Well, it’d be a poor thing to go marrying your like. I’m seeing there’s a world of peril for an orphan girl, and isn’t it a great blessing I didn’t wed you, before himself came walking from the west or south?

Shawn It’s a queer story you’d go picking a dirty tramp up from the highways of the world.

Pegeen (playfully). And you think you’re a likely beau to go straying along with, the shiny Sundays of the opening year, when it’s sooner on a bullock’s liver you’d put a poor girl thinking than on the lily or the rose?

Shawn And have you no mind of my weight of passion, and the holy dispensation, and the drift of heifers I am giving, and the golden ring?

Pegeen I’m thinking you’re too fine for the like of me, Shawn Keogh of Killakeen, and let you go off till you’d find a radiant lady with droves of bullocks on the plains of Meath, and herself bedizened in the diamond jewelleries of Pharaoh’s ma. That’d be your match, Shaneen. So God save you now!

She retreats behind Christy.

Shawn Won’t you hear me telling you.… ?

Christy (with ferocity). Take yourself from this, young fellow, or I’ll maybe add a murder to my deeds to-day.

Michael (springing up with a shriek). Murder is it? Is it mad yous are? Would you go making murder in this place, and it piled with poteen for our drink to-night? Go on to the foreshore if it’s fighting you want, where the rising tide will wash all traces from the memory of man.

Pushing Shawn towards Christy.

Shawn (shaking himself free, and getting behind Michael). I’ll not fight him, Michael James. I’d liefer live a bachelor, simmering in passions to the end of time, than face a lepping savage the like of him has descended from the Lord knows where. Strike him yourself, Michael James, or you’ll lose my drift of heifers and my blue bull from Sneem.

Michael Is it me fight him, when it’s father-slaying he’s bred to now? (Pushing Shawn.) Go on you fool and fight him now.

Shawn (coming forward a little). Will I strike him with my hand?

Michael Take the loy is on your western side.

Shawn I’d be afeard of the gallows if I struck him with that.

Christy (taking up the loy). Then I’ll make you face the gallows or quit off from this. (Shawn flies out of the door).

Christy Well, fine weather be after him, (going to Michael, coaxingly), and I’m thinking you wouldn’t wish to have that quaking blackguard in your house at all. Let you give us your blessing and hear her