help us, but it'll pass surely." You'll be saying --

DAN
[Goes over to them crying out impatiently.] Go out of that door,
I'm telling you, and do your blathering below in the glen.

[Nora gathers a few things into her shawl.]

TRAMP
[At the door.] Come along with me now, lady of the house, and
it's not my blather you'll be hearing only, but you'll be hearing
the herons crying out over the black lakes, and you'll be hearing
the grouse and the owls with them, and the larks and the big
thrushes when the days are warm, and it's not from the like of
them you'll be hearing a talk of getting old like Peggy Cavanagh,
and losing the hair off you, and the light of your eyes, but it's
fine songs you'll be hearing when the sun goes up, and there'll
be no old fellow wheezing, the like of a sick sheep, close to
your ear.

NORA
I'm thinking it's myself will be wheezing that time with lying
down under the Heavens when the night is cold; but you've a fine
bit of talk, stranger, and it's with yourself I'll go. (She goes
towards the door, then turns to 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 for you? What is it you'll have now but a black