DEIRDRE.
— with restraint. — Go to your brothers. For seven years you have been kindly, but the hardness of death has come between us.
NAISI.
— looking at her aghast. — And you’ll have me meet death with a hard word from your lips in my ear?
DEIRDRE.
We’ve had a dream, but this night has waked us surely. In a little while we’ve lived too long, Naisi, and isn’t it a poor thing we should miss the safety of the grave, and we trampling its edge?
AINNLE.
— behind. — Naisi, Naisi, we are attacked and ruined!
DEIRDRE.
Let you go where they are calling. (She looks at him for an instant coldly.) Have you no shame loitering and talking, and a cruel death facing Ainnle and Ardan in the woods?
NAISI.
— frantic. — They’ll not get a death that’s cruel, and they with men alone. It’s women that have loved are cruel only; and if I went on living from this day I’d be putting a curse on the lot of them I’d meet walking in the east or west, putting a curse on the sun that gave them beauty, and on the madder and the stone-crop put red upon their cloaks.
DEIRDRE.
— bitterly. — I’m well pleased there’s no one in this place to make a story that Naisi was a laughing-stock the night he died.
NAISI.
There’d not be many’d make a story, for that mockery is in your eyes this night will spot the face of Emain with a plague of pitted graves.
[He goes out.
CONCHUBOR.
— outside. — That is Naisi. Strike him! (Tumult. Deirdre crouches down on Naisi’s cloak. Conchubor comes in hurriedly.) They’ve met their death — the three that stole you, Deirdre, and from this out you’ll be my queen in Emain.