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Act First performed back hills back mountain bad wife blathering bush where sheep County Wicklow Daniel Burke destroyed surely door drink drouth easy afeard fool getting old GLEN A Play goes on stitching going grand morning he'ld hearing I'ld I'm telling I'm thinking it's It's a wild lady leaping a gap living lonesome place Lord have mercy man's bit Micheal Dara MICHEAL Looking Molesworth Hall mountain ewes needle Nora Burke Nora comes NORA Giving NORA Goes NORA Looking NORA Pouring NORA Putting NORA Speaking NORA Takes NORA To Micheal NORA Turning passing Patch Darcy Peggy Cavanagh pipe queer look queer thing surely quiet rain Rathvanna SHADOW sheet sitting sleep slowly spare his soul sticking out round stocking with money stranger talk There's thinking TRAMP Give TRAMP Looking TRAMP Moving turf uneasily walk round we'ld wild night wind crying you'ld you'll be hearing
Page 32 - Why would I marry you, Mike Dara ? You'll be getting old and I'll be getting old, and in a little while, I'm telling you, you'll be sitting up in your bed — the way himself was sitting — with a shake in your face, and your teeth falling, and the white hair sticking out round you like an old bush where sheep do be leaping a gap.
Page 37 - I'm telling you, and the time you'll be feeling the cold, and the frost, and the great rain, and the sun again, and the south wind blowing in the glens, you'll not be sitting up on a wet ditch, the way you're after sitting in the place, making yourself old with looking on each day, and it passing you by. You'll be saying one time, " It's a grand evening, by the grace of God," and another time, " It's a wild night, God help us, but it'll pass surely.
Page 15 - I'm destroyed surely." Then I run, and I run, and I run, till I was below in Rathvanna. I got drunk that night, I got drunk in the morning, and drunk the day after, — I was coming from the races beyond — and the third day they found Darcy. . . . Then I knew it was himself I was after hearing, and I wasn't afeard any more.
Page 16 - Darcy ; he'd always look in here and he passing up or passing down, and it's very lonesome I was after him a long while (she looks over at the bed and lowers her voice, speaking very slowly], and then I got happy again — if it's ever happy we are, stranger — for I got used to being lonesome.
Page 29 - Dara, for what good is a bit of a farm with cows on it and sheep on the back hills, when you do be sitting looking out from a door the like of that door, and seeing nothing but the mists rolling down the bog, and the mists again and they rolling up the bog, and hearing nothing but the wind crying out in the bits of broken trees that were left from the great storm, and the streams roaring with the rain ? MICHAEL (looking at her uneasily).
Page 39 - Dan.) You think it's a grand thing you're after doing with your letting on to be dead, but what is it at all ? What way would a woman live in a lonesome place the like of this place, and she not making a talk with the men passing ? And what way will yourself live from this day, with none to care...
Page 35 - The like of her would never go there. . . . It's lonesome roads she'll be going and hiding herself away till the end will come, and they find her stretched like a dead sheep with the frost on her, or the big spiders maybe, and they putting their webs on her, in the butt of a ditch.
Page 32 - It's a pitiful thing to be getting old, but it's a queer thing surely. It's a queer thing to see an old man sitting up there in his bed with no teeth in him, and a rough word in his mouth, and his chin the way it would take the bark from the edge of an oak board you'd have building a door.
Page 11 - ... complaining a while back of a pain in his heart, and this morning, the time he was going off to Brittas for three days or four, he was taken with a sharp turn. Then he went into his bed and he was saying it was destroyed he was, the time the shadow was going up through the glen, and when the sun set on the bog beyond he made a great lep, and let a great cry out of him, and stiffened himself out the like of a dead sheep.
Page 10 - NORA He was an old man, and an odd man, stranger, and it's always up on the hills he was thinking thoughts in the dark mist. (She pulls back a bit of the sheet.) Lay your hand on him now, and tell me if it's cold he is surely. TRAMP Is it getting the curse on me you'ld be, woman of the house?