MICHAEL -- [to Christy.] -- The blessing of God and the holy angels on your head, young fellow. I hear tell you're after winning all in the sports below; and wasn't it a shame I didn't bear you along with me to Kate Cassidy's wake, a fine, stout lad, the like of you, for you'd never see the match of it for flows of drink, the way when we sunk her bones at noonday in her narrow grave, there were five men, aye, and six men, stretched out retching speechless on the holy stones.
CHRISTY -- [uneasily, watching Pegeen.] -- Is that the truth?
MICHAEL. It is then, and aren't you a louty schemer to go burying your poor father unbeknownst when you'd a right to throw him on the crupper of a Kerry mule and drive him westwards, like holy Joseph in the days gone by, the way we could have given him a decent burial, and not have him rotting beyond, and not a Christian drinking a smart drop to the glory of his soul?
CHRISTY -- [gruffly.] It's well enough he's lying, for the likes of him.
MICHAEL -- [slapping him on the back.] -- Well, aren't you a hardened slayer?
It'll be a poor thing for the household man where you go sniffing for a female wife; and (pointing to Shawn) look beyond at that shy and decent Christian I have chosen for my daughter's hand, and I after getting the gilded dispensation this day for to wed them now.
CHRISTY. And you'll be wedding them this day, is it?
MICHAEL -- [drawing himself up.] -- Aye. Are you thinking, if I'm drunk itself, I'd leave my daughter living single with a little frisky rascal is the like of you?
PEGEEN -- [breaking away from Shawn.] -- Is it the truth the dispensation's come?
MICHAEL -- [triumphantly.] Father Reilly's after reading it in gallous Latin, and "It's come in the nick of time," says he; "so I'll wed them in a hurry, dreading that young gaffer who'd capsize the stars."
PEGEEN -- [fiercely.] He's missed his nick of time, for it's that lad, Christy Mahon, that I'm wedding now.
MICHAEL -- [loudly with horror.] -- You'd be making him a son to me, and he wet and crusted with his father's blood?
PEGEEN. Aye. Wouldn't it be a bitter thing for a girl to go marrying the like of Shaneen, and he a middling kind of a scarecrow, with no savagery or fine words in him at all?
MICHAEL -- [gasping and sinking on a chair.] -- Oh, aren't you a heathen daughter to go shaking the fat of my heart, and I swamped and drownded with the weight of drink? Would you have them turning on me the way that I'd be roaring to the dawn of day with the wind upon my heart? Have you not a word to aid me, Shaneen? Are you not jealous at all?
SHANEEN -- [In great misery.] -- I'd be afeard to be jealous of a man did slay his da.
PEGEEN. Well, it'd be a poor thing to go marrying your like. I'm seeing there's a world of peril for an orphan girl, and isn't it a great blessing I didn't wed you, before himself came walking from the west or south?
SHAWN. It's a queer story you'd go picking a dirty tramp up from the highways of the world.
PEGEEN -- [playfully.] And you think you're a likely beau to go straying along with, the shiny Sundays of the opening year, when it's sooner on a bullock's liver you'd put a poor girl thinking than on the lily or the rose?
SHAWN. And have you no mind of my weight of passion, and the holy dispensation, and the drift of heifers I am giving, and the golden ring?
PEGEEN. I'm thinking you're too fine for the like of me, Shawn Keogh of Killakeen, and let you go off till you'd find a radiant lady with droves of bullocks on the plains of Meath, and herself bedizened in the diamond jewelleries of Pharaoh's ma. That'd be your match, Shaneen. So God save you now! [She retreats behind Christy.]
SHAWN. Won't you hear me telling you. . . ?
CHRISTY -- [with ferocity.] -- Take yourself from this, young fellow, or I'll maybe add a murder to my deeds to-day.
MICHAEL -- [springing up with a shriek.] -- Murder is it? Is it mad yous are?
Would you go making murder in this place, and it piled with poteen for our drink to-night? Go on to the foreshore if it's fighting you want, where the rising tide will wash all traces from the memory of man. [Pushing Shawn towards Christy.]
SHAWN -- [shaking himself free, and getting behind Michael.] -- I'll not fight him, Michael James. I'd liefer live a bachelor, simmering in passions to the end of time, than face a lepping savage the like of him has descended from the Lord knows where. Strike him yourself, Michael James, or you'll lose my drift of heifers and my blue bull from Sneem.
MICHAEL. Is it me fight him, when it's father-slaying he's bred to now?
(Pushing Shawn.) Go on you fool and fight him now.
SHAWN -- [coming forward a little.] -- Will I strike him with my hand?
MICHAEL. Take the loy is on your western side.
SHAWN. I'd be afeard of the gallows if I struck him with that.
CHRISTY -- [taking up the loy.] -- Then I'll make you face the gallows or quit off from this. [Shawn flies out of the door.]
CHRISTY. Well, fine weather be after him, (going to Michael, coaxingly) and I'm thinking you wouldn't wish to have that quaking blackguard in your house at all. Let you give us your blessing and hear her swear her faith to me, for I'm mounted on the spring-tide of the stars of luck, the way it'll be good for any to have me in the house.
PEGEEN [at the other side of Michael.] -- Bless us now, for I swear to God I'll wed him, and I'll not renege.
