CONCHUBOR.
You should have as few sad days, I’m thinking, as I have glad and good ones.
DEIRDRE.
What is it has you that way ever coming this place, when you’d hear the old woman saying a good child’s as happy as a king?
CONCHUBOR.
How would I be happy seeing age coming on me each year, when the dry leaves are blowing back and forward at the gate of Emain? And yet this last while I’m saying out, when I see the furze breaking and the daws sitting two and two on ash-trees by the duns of Emain, Deirdre’s a year nearer her full age when she’ll be my mate and comrade and then I’m glad surely.
DEIRDRE.
— almost to herself. — I will not be your mate in Emain.
CONCHUBOR.
— not heeding her. — It’s there you’ll be proud and happy and you’ll learn that, if young men are great hunters, yet it’s with the like of myself you’ll find a knowledge of what is priceless in your own like. What we all need is a place is safe and splendid, and it’s that you’ll get in Emain in two days or three.
DEIRDRE.
— aghast. — Two days!
CONCHUBOR.
I have the rooms ready, and in a little while you’ll be brought down there, to be my queen and queen of the five parts of Ireland.
DEIRDRE.
— standing up frightened and pleading. — I’d liefer stay this place, Conchubor. . . . Leave me this place, where I’m well used to the tracks and pathways and the people of the glens. . . . It’s for this life I’m born, surely.
CONCHUBOR.
You’ll be happier and greater with myself in Emain. It is I will be your comrade, and will stand between you and the great troubles are foretold.
DEIRDRE.
I will not be your queen in Emain when it’s my pleasure to be having my freedom on the edges of the hills.