DEIRDRE—No! No! There is a hunger in his eyes for I know not what.
LAVARCAM—He is the wisest king who ever sat on the chair of Macha.
DEIRDRE—He has placed a burden on my heart. Oh! fostermother, the harp of life is already trembling into sorrow!
LAVARCAM—Do not think of him. Tell me your dream, my child.
[DEIRDRE comes from the door of the dun and sits on a deerskin at LAVARCAM's feet.]
DEIRDRE—Tell me, do happy dreams bring happiness, and do our dreams of the Sidhe ever grow real to us as you are real to me? Do their eyes draw nigh to ours, and can the heart we dream of ever be a refuge for our hearts.
LAVARCAM—Tell me your dream.
DEIRDRE—Nay; but answer first of all, dear fostermother—you who are wise, and who have talked with the Sidhe.
LAVARCAM—Would it make you happy to have your dream real, my darling?
DEIRDRE—Oh, it would make me happy!