CONCHUBOR.
It is I who am out of my wits, with Emain in flames, and Deirdre raving, and my own heart gone within me.
DEIRDRE.
— in a high and quiet tone. — I have put away sorrow like a shoe that is worn out and muddy, for it is I have had a life that will be envied by great companies. It was not by a low birth I made kings uneasy, and they sitting in the halls of Emain. It was not a low thing to be chosen by Conchubor, who was wise, and Naisi had no match for bravery. It is not a small thing to be rid of grey hairs, and the loosening of the teeth. (With a sort of triumph.) It was the choice of lives we had in the clear woods, and in the grave, we’re safe, surely. . . .
CONCHUBOR.
She will do herself harm.
DEIRDRE.
— showing Naisi’s knife. — I have a little key to unlock the prison of Naisi you’d shut upon his youth for ever. Keep back, Conchubor; for the High King who is your master has put his hands between us. (She half turns to the grave.) It was sorrows were foretold, but great joys were my share always; yet it is a cold place I must go to be with you, Naisi; and it’s cold your arms will be this night that were warm about my neck so often. . . . It’s a pitiful thing to be talking out when your ears are shut to me. It’s a pitiful thing, Conchubor, you have done this night in Emain; yet a thing will be a joy and triumph to the ends of life and time.
[She presses knife into her heart and sinks into the grave. Conchubor and Fergus go forward. The red glow fades, leaving stage very dark.
FERGUS.
Four white bodies are laid down together; four clear lights are quenched in Ireland. (He throws his sword into the grave.) There is my sword that could not shield you — my four friends that were the dearest always. The flames of Emain have gone out: Deirdre is dead and there is none to keen her. That is the fate of Deirdre and the children of Usna, and for this night, Conchubor, our war is ended.
[He goes out.
LAVARCHAM.
I have a little hut where you can rest, Conchubor; there is a great dew falling.
CONCHUBOR.
— with the voice of an old man. — Take me with you. I’m hard set to see the way before me.
OLD WOMAN.
This way, Conchubor.