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
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