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there are two men without sense, and to Glenassil, where there
are children blind from their birth; and then I'm going to sleep

this night in the bed of the holy Kevin, and to be prais- ing
God, and asking great blessing on you all. [He bends his head.]

CURTAIN
ACT II

[Village roadside, on left the door of a forge, with broken
wheels, etc., lying about. A well near centre, with board above

it, and room to pass behind it. Martin Doul is sitting near
forge, cutting sticks.]

TIMMY -- [heard hammering inside forge, then calls.] -- Let you
make haste out there. . . . I'll be putting up new fires at the

turn of day, and you haven't the half of them cut yet.
MARTIN DOUL -- [gloomily.] -- It's destroyed I'll be whacking

your old thorns till the turn of day, and I with no food in my
stomach would keep the life in a pig. (He turns towards the

door.) Let you come out here and cut them yourself if you want
them cut, for there's an hour every day when a man has a right to

his rest.
TIMMY -- [coming out, with a hammer, impatiently.] -- Do you want

me to be driving you off again to be walking the roads? There
you are now, and I giving you your food, and a corner to sleep,

and money with it; and, to hear the talk of you, you'd think I
was after beating you, or stealing your gold.

MARTIN DOUL. You'd do it handy, maybe, if I'd gold to steal.
TIMMY -- [throws down hammer; picks up some of the sticks already

cut, and throws them into door.) There's no fear of your having
gold -- a lazy, basking fool the like of you.

MARTIN DOUL. No fear, maybe, and I here with yourself, for it's
more I got a while since and I sitting blinded in Grianan, than I

get in this place working hard, and destroying myself, the length
of the day.

TIMMY -- [stopping with amazement.] -- Working hard? (He goes
over to him.) I'll teach you to work hard, Martin Doul. Strip

off your coat now, and put a tuck in your sleeves, and cut the
lot of them, while I'd rake the ashes from the forge, or I'll not

put up with you another hour itself.
MARTIN DOUL -- [horrified.] -- Would you have me getting my death

sitting out in the black wintry air with no coat on me at all?
TIMMY -- [with authority.] -- Strip it off now, or walk down upon

the road.
MARTIN DOUL -- [bitterly.] -- Oh, God help me! (He begins taking

off his coat.) I've heard tell you stripped the sheet from your
wife and you putting her down into the grave, and that there

isn't the like of you for plucking your living ducks, the short
days, and leaving them running round in their skins, in the great

rains and the cold. (He tucks up his sleeves.) Ah, I've heard a
power of queer things of yourself, and there isn't one of them

I'll not believe from this day, and be telling to the boys.
TIMMY -- [pulling over a big stick.] -- Let you cut that now, and

give me rest from your talk, for I'm not heeding you at all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [taking stick.] -- That's a hard, terrible stick,

Timmy; and isn't it a poor thing to be cutting strong timber the
like of that, when it's cold the bark is, and slippy with the

frost of the air?
TIMMY -- [gathering up another armful of sticks.] -- What way

wouldn't it be cold, and it freezing since the moon was changed?
[He goes into forge.]

MARTIN DOUL -- [querulously, as he cuts slowly.] -- What way,
indeed, Timmy? For it's a raw, beastly day we do have each day,

till I do be thinking it's well for the blind don't be seeing
them gray clouds driving on the hill, and don't be looking on

people with their noses red, the like of your nose, and their
eyes weeping and watering, the like of your eyes, God help you,

Timmy the smith.
TIMMY -- [seen blinking in doorway.] -- Is it turning now you are

against your sight?
MARTIN DOUL -- [very miserably.] -- It's a hard thing for a man

to have his sight, and he living near to the like of you (he cuts
a stick and throws it away), or wed with a wife (cuts a stick);

and I do be thinking it should be a hard thing for the Almighty
God to be looking on the world, bad days, and on men the like of

yourself walking around on it, and they slipping each way in the
muck.

TIMMY -- [with pot-hooks which he taps on anvil.] -- You'd have a
right to be minding, Martin Doul, for it's a power the Saint

cured lose their sight after a while. Mary Doul's dimming again,
I've heard them say; and I'm thinking the Lord, if he hears you

making that talk, will have little pity left for you at all.
MARTIN DOUL. There's not a bit of fear of me losing my sight,

and if it's a dark day itself it's too well I see every wicked
wrinkle you have round by your eye.

TIMMY -- [looking at him sharply.] -- The day's not dark since
the clouds broke in the east.

MARTIN DOUL. Let you not be tormenting yourself trying to make
me afeard. You told me a power of bad lies the time I was blind,

and it's right now for you to stop, and be taking your rest (Mary
Doul comes in unnoticed on right with a sack filled with green

stuff on her arm), for it's little ease or quiet any person would
get if the big fools of Ireland weren't weary at times. (He looks

up and sees Mary Doul.) Oh, glory be to God, she's coming again.
[He begins to work busily with his back to her.]

TIMMY -- [amused, to Mary Doul, as she is going by without
looking at them.] -- Look on him now, Mary Doul. You'd be a

great one for keeping him steady at his work, for he's after
idling and blathering to this hour from the dawn of day.

MARY DOUL -- [stiffly.] -- Of what is it you're speaking, Timmy
the smith?

TIMMY -- [laughing.] -- Of himself, surely. Look on him there,
and he with the shirt on him ripping from his back. You'd have a

right to come round this night, I'm thinking, and put a stitch
into his clothes, for it's long enough you are not speaking one

to the other.
MARY DOUL. Let the two of you not torment me at all.

[She goes out left, with her head in the air.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [stops work and looks after her.] -- Well, isn't

it a queer thing she can't keep herself two days without looking
on my face?

TIMMY -- [jeeringly.] -- Looking on your face is it? And she
after going by with her head turned the way you'd see a priest

going where there'd be a drunken man in the side ditch talking
with a girl. (Martin Doul gets up and goes to corner of forge,

and looks out left.) Come back here and don't mind her at all.
Come back here, I'm saying, you've no call to be spying behind

her since she went off, and left you, in place of breaking her
heart, trying to keep you in the decency of clothes and food.

MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out indignantly.] -- You know rightly,
Timmy, it was myself drove her away.

TIMMY. That's a lie you're telling, yet it's little I care which
one of you was driving the other, and let you walk back here, I'm

saying, to your work.
MARTIN DOUL -- [turning round.] -- I'm coming, surely.

[He stops and looks out right, going a step or two towards
centre.]

TIMMY. On what is it you're gaping, Martin Doul?
MARTIN DOUL. There's a person walking above. . . . It's Molly

Byrne, I'm thinking, coming down with her can.
TIMMY. If she is itself let you not be idling this day, or

minding her at all, and let you hurry with them sticks, for I'll
want you in a short while to be blowing in the forge. [He throws

down pot-hooks.]
MARTIN DOUL -- [crying out.] -- Is it roasting me now you'd be?

(Turns back and sees pot-hooks; he takes them up.) Pot-hooks?
Is it over them you've been inside sneezing and sweating since

the dawn of day?
TIMMY -- [resting himself on anvil, with satisfaction.] -- I'm

making a power of things you do have when you're settling with a
wife, Martin Doul; for I heard tell last night the Saint'll be

passing again in a short while, and I'd have him wed Molly with
myself. . . . He'd do it, I've heard them say, for not a penny at

all.
MARTIN DOUL -- [lays down hooks and looks at him steadily.] --

Molly'll be saying great praises now to the Almighty God and He
giving her a fine, stout, hardy man the like of you.

TIMMY -- [uneasily.] -- And why wouldn't she, if she's a fine
woman itself?

MARTIN DOUL -- [looking up right.] -- Why wouldn't she, indeed,
Timmy? . . . . The Almighty God's made a fine match in the two of

you, for if you went marrying a woman was the like of yourself
you'd be having the fearfullest little children, I'm thinking,

was ever seen in the world.
TIMMY -- [seriously offended.] -- God forgive you! if you're an

ugly man to be looking at, I'm thinking your tongue's worse than
your view.

MARTIN DOUL -- [hurt also.] -- Isn't it destroyed with the cold I
am, and if I'm ugly itself I never seen anyone the like of you

for dreepiness this day, Timmy the smith, and I'm thinking now
herself's coming above you'd have a right to step up into your

old shanty, and give a rub to your face, and not be sitting there
with your bleary eyes, and your big nose, the like of an old

scarecrow stuck down upon the road.
TIMMY -- [looking up the road uneasily.] She's no call to mind

what way I look, and I after building a house with four rooms in
it above on the hill. (He stands up.) But it's a queer thing

the way yourself and Mary Doul are after setting every person in
this place, and up beyond to Rathvanna, talking of nothing, and

thinking of nothing, but the way they do be looking in the face.
(Going towards forge.) It's the devil's work you're after doing

with your talk of fine looks, and I'd do right, maybe, to step in
and wash the blackness from my eyes.

[He goes into forge. Martin Doul rubs his face furtively with
the tail of his coat. Molly Byrne comes on right with a

water-can, and begins to fill it at the well.]
MARTIN DOUL. God save you, Molly Byrne.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [indifferently.] -- God save you.
MARTIN DOUL. That's a dark, gloomy day, and the Lord have mercy

on us all.
MOLLY BYRNE. Middling dark.

MARTIN DOUL. It's a power of dirty days, and dark mornings, and
shabby-looking fellows (he makes a gesture over his shoulder) we

do have to be looking on when we have our sight, God help us, but
there's one fine thing we have, to be looking on a grand, white,

handsome girl, the like of you . . . . and every time I set my
eyes on you I do be blessing the saints, and the holy water, and

the power of the Lord Almighty in the heavens above.
MOLLY BYRNE. I've heard the priests say it isn't looking on a

young girl would teach many to be saying their prayers. [Bailing
water into her can with a cup.]

MARTIN DOUL. It isn't many have been the way I was, hearing your
voice speaking, and not seeing you at all.

MOLLY BYRNE. That should have been a queer time for an old,
wicked, coaxing fool to be sitting there with your eyes shut, and

not seeing a sight of girl or woman passing the road.
MARTIN DOUL. If it was a queer time itself it was great joy and

pride I had the time I'd hear your voice speaking and you passing
to Grianan (beginning to speak with plaintive intensity), for

it's of many a fine thing your voice would put a poor dark fellow
in mind, and the day I'd hear it it's of little else at all I

would be thinking.
MOLLY BYRNE. I'll tell your wife if you talk to me the like of

that. . . . You've heard, maybe, she's below picking nettles for


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