Your sorrowful love can never be told,
Cover it up with a lonely tune,
He that could bend all things to His will
Has covered the door of the infinite fold
With the pale stars and the wandering moon.

(He takes a step towards the door and then turns again.)

Shut to the door before the night has fallen,
For who can say what walks, or in what shape
Some devilish creature flies in the air, but now
Two grey-horned owls hooted above our heads.

(He goes out, his singing dies away. MARY comes in. SHEmus has
been counting the money.)

TEIG. There's no good luck in owls, but it may be
That the ill luck's to fall upon their heads.

MARY. You never thanked her ladyship.

SHEMUS. Thank her,
For seven halfpence and a silver bit?

TEIG. But for this empty purse?

SHEMUS. What's that for thanks,
Or what's the double of it that she promised?
With bread and flesh and every sort of food
Up to a price no man has heard the like of