DEIRDRE.
If there isn’t, it’s that grave when it’s closed will make us one for ever, and we two lovers have had great space without weariness or growing old or any sadness of the mind.
CONCHUBOR.
— coming in on right. — I’d bid you welcome, Naisi.
NAISI.
— standing up. — You’re welcome, Conchubor. I’m well pleased you’ve come.
CONCHUBOR.
— blandly. — Let you not think bad of this place where I’ve put you till other rooms are readied.
NAISI.
— breaking out. — We know the room you’ve readied. We know what stirred you to send your seals and Fergus into Alban and stop him in the north, (opening curtain and pointing to the grave) and dig that grave before us. Now I ask what brought you here?
CONCHUBOR.
I’ve come to look on Deirdre.
NAISI.
Look on her. You’re a knacky fancier, and it’s well you chose the one you’d lure from Alban. Look on her, I tell you, and when you’ve looked I’ve got ten fingers will squeeze your mottled goose neck, though you’re king itself.
DEIRDRE.
— coming between them. — Hush, Naisi! Maybe Conchubor’ll make peace. . . . Do not mind him, Conchubor; he has cause to rage.
CONCHUBOR.
It’s little I heed his raging, when a call would bring my fighters from the trees. . . . But what do you say, Deirdre?
DEIRDRE.
I’ll say so near that grave we seem three lonesome people, and by a new made grave there’s no man will keep brooding on a woman’s lips, or on the man he hates. It’s not long till your own grave will be dug in Emain, and you’d go down to it more easy if you’d let call Ainnle and Ardan, the way we’d have a supper all together, and fill that grave, and you’ll be well pleased from this out, having four new friends the like of us in Emain.