CHRISTY -- [uneasily, watching Pegeen.] -- Is that the truth?
MICHAEL. It is then, and aren't you a louty schemer to go burying your poor
father unbeknownst when you'd a right to throw him on the crupper of a Kerry
mule and drive him westwards, like holy Joseph in the days gone by, the way we
could have given him a decent burial, and not have him rotting beyond, and not
a Christian drinking a smart drop to the glory of his soul?
CHRISTY -- [gruffly.] It's well enough he's lying, for the likes of him.
MICHAEL -- [slapping him on the back.] -- Well, aren't you a hardened slayer?
It'll be a poor thing for the household man where you go sniffing for a female
wife; and (pointing to Shawn) look beyond at that shy and decent Christian I
have chosen for my daughter's hand, and I after getting the gilded
dispensation this day for to wed them now.
CHRISTY. And you'll be wedding them this day, is it?
MICHAEL -- [drawing himself up.] -- Aye. Are you thinking, if I'm drunk
itself, I'd leave my daughter living single with a little frisky rascal is the
like of you?
PEGEEN -- [breaking away from Shawn.] -- Is it the truth the dispensation's
come?
MICHAEL -- [triumphantly.] Father Reilly's after reading it in gallous Latin,
and "It's come in the nick of time," says he; "so I'll wed them in a hurry,
dreading that young gaffer who'd capsize the stars."
PEGEEN -- [fiercely.] He's missed his nick of time, for it's that lad,
Christy Mahon, that I'm wedding now.
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