You lie, for your man would take from my man.
Conall’s Wife
[To Laegaire’s Wife]
You say that, you double-face, and your own husband began.
Cuchulain
[Taking up Helmet from table]
Town land may rail at town land till all have gone to wrack,
The very straws may wrangle till they’ve thrown down the stack;
The very door-posts bicker till they’ve pulled in the door,