That'd be your match, Shaneen. So God save you
now! [She retreats behind Christy.]
SHAWN. Won't you hear me telling you. . . ?
CHRISTY -- [with ferocity.] -- Take yourself from this, young fellow, or I'll
maybe add a murder to my deeds to-day.
MICHAEL -- [springing up with a shriek.] -- Murder is it? Is it mad yous are?
Would you go making murder in this place, and it piled with poteen for our
drink to-night? Go on to the foreshore if it's fighting you want, where the
rising tide will wash all traces from the memory of man. [Pushing Shawn
towards Christy.]
SHAWN -- [shaking himself free, and getting behind Michael.] -- I'll not fight
him, Michael James. I'd liefer live a bachelor, simmering in passions to the
end of time, than face a lepping savage the like of him has descended from the
Lord knows where. Strike him yourself, Michael James, or you'll lose my drift
of heifers and my blue bull from Sneem.
MICHAEL. Is it me fight him, when it's father-slaying he's bred to now?
(Pushing Shawn.) Go on you fool and fight him now.
SHAWN -- [coming forward a little.] -- Will I strike him with my hand?
MICHAEL. Take the loy is on your western side.
SHAWN. I'd be afeard of the gallows if I struck him with that.
CHRISTY -- [taking up the loy.] -- Then I'll make you face the gallows or quit
off from this. [Shawn flies out of the door.]
CHRISTY. Well, fine weather be after him, (going to Michael, coaxingly) and
I'm thinking you wouldn't wish to have that quaking blackguard in your house
at all.
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