The Playboy of the
and isn't it by the like of you the sins of the whole world are committed?
CHRISTY, raising his hands.
In the name of the Almighty God. . . .
MAHON.
Leave troubling the Lord God. Would you have him sending down droughts, and fevers, and the old hen and the cholera morbus?
CHRISTY, to Widow Quin.
Will you come between us and protect me now?
WIDOW QUIN.
I've tried a lot, God help me, and my share is done.
CHRISTY, looking round in desperation.
And I must go back into my torment is it, or run off like a vagabond straying through the unions with the dusts of August making mud-stains in the gullet of my throat; or the winds of March blowing on me till I'd take an oath I felt them making whistles of my ribs within?
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