MARY
O, you are the great door-post of this house,
And I the branch of blessed quicken wood,
And if I could I'd hang upon the post,
Till I had brought good luck into the house.
(She would put her arms about him, but looks shyly at the priest and lets her arms fall.)
FATHER HART
My daughter, take his hand—by love alone
God binds us to Himself and to the hearth,
That shuts us from the waste beyond His peace,
From maddening freedom and bewildering light.
SHAWN
Would that the world were mine to give it you,
And not its quiet hearths alone, but even
All that bewilderment of light and freedom,
If you would have it.
MARY
I would take the world
And break it into pieces in my hands
To see you smile watching it crumble away.
SHAWN