GIRLS, together.
Well, you're a marvel! Oh, God bless you! You're the lad, surely!
SUSAN.
I'm thinking the Lord God sent him this road to make a second husband to the Widow Quin, and she with a great yearning to be wedded, though all dread her here. Lift him on her knee, Sara Tansey.
WIDOW QUIN.
Don't tease him.
SARA, going over to dresser and counter very quickly, and getting two glasses and porter.
You're heroes surely, and let you drink a supeen with your arms linked like the outlandish lovers in the sailor's song. (She links their arms and gives them the glasses.) There now. Drink a health to the wonders of the western world, the pirates, preachers, poteen-makers, with the jobbing jockies; parching peelers, and the juries fill their stomachs selling judgments of the English law.
Brandishing the bottle.
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