ACT I.
SCENE: A Village roadside after nightfall. A fire of sticks is burning near the ditch a little to the right. Michael is working beside it. In the background, on the left, a sort of tent and ragged clothes drying on the hedge. On the right a chapel-gate.
SARAH CASEY
coming in on right, eagerly.—We’ll see his reverence this place, Michael Byrne, and he passing backward to his house to-night.
MICHAEL
grimly.—That’ll be a sacred and a sainted joy!
SARAH
sharply.—It’ll be small joy for yourself if you aren’t ready with my wedding ring. (She goes over to him.) Is it near done this time, or what way is it at all?
MICHAEL
A poor way only, Sarah Casey, for it’s the divil’s job making a ring, and you’ll be having my hands destroyed in a short while the way I’ll not be able to make a tin can at all maybe at the dawn of day.
SARAH
sitting down beside him and throwing sticks on the fire.—If it’s the divil’s job, let you mind it, and leave your speeches that would choke a fool.
MICHAEL
slowly and glumly.—And it’s you’ll go talking of fools, Sarah Casey, when no man did ever hear a lying story even of your like unto this mortal day. You to be going beside me a great while, and rearing a lot of them, and then to be setting off with your talk of getting married, and your driving me to it, and I not asking it at all.
[Sarah turns her back to him and arranges something in the ditch.
MICHAEL
angrily.—Can’t you speak a word when I’m asking what is it ails you since the moon did change?