CROWD.
Keep it up, the two of you. I’ll back the old one. Now the playboy.
CHRISTY.
in low and intense voice.—Shut your yelling, for if you’re after making a mighty man of me this day by the power of a lie, you’re setting me now to think if it’s a poor thing to be lonesome, it’s worse maybe to go mixing with the fools of earth. [Mahon makes a movement towards him.]
CHRISTY.
almost shouting.—Keep off ... lest I do show a blow unto the lot of you would set the guardian angels winking in the clouds above. [He swings round with a sudden rapid movement and picks up a loy.]
CROWD.
half frightened, half amused.—He’s going mad! Mind yourselves! Run from the idiot!
CHRISTY.
If I am an idiot, I’m after hearing my voice this day saying words would raise the topknot on a poet in a merchant’s town. I’ve won your racing, and your lepping, and....
MAHON.
Shut your gullet and come on with me.
CHRISTY.
I’m going, but I’ll stretch you first. [He runs at old Mahon with the loy, chases him out of the door, followed by crowd and Widow Quin. There is a great noise outside, then a yell, and dead silence for a moment. Christy comes in, half dazed, and goes to fire.]
WIDOW QUIN.
coming in, hurriedly, and going to him.—They’re turning again you. Come on, or you’ll be hanged, indeed.
CHRISTY.
I’m thinking, from this out, Pegeen’ll be giving me praises the same as in the hours gone by.
WIDOW QUIN.
impatiently.—Come by the back-door. I’d think bad to have you stifled on the gallows tree.