sleep, and the bats squeaking in the trees. MICHAEL. Whist. I hear some one coming the road. SARAH -- looking out right. -- It's some one coming forward from the doctor's door. MICHAEL. It's often his reverence does be in there playing cards, or drinking a sup, or singing songs, until the dawn of day. SARAH. It's a big boast of a man with a long step on him and a trumpeting voice. It's his reverence surely; and if you have the ring done, it's a great bargain we'll make now and he after drinking his glass. MICHAEL -- going to her and giving her the ring. -- There's your ring, Sarah Casey; but I'm thinking he'll walk by and not stop to speak with the like of us at all. SARAH -- tidying herself, in great excite- ment. -- Let you be sitting here and keeping a great blaze, the way he can look on my face; and let you seem to be working, for it's great love the like of him have to talk of work. MICHAEL -- moodily, sitting down and
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beginning to work at a tin can. -- Great love surely. SARAH -- eagerly. -- Make a great blaze now, Michael Byrne. [The priest comes in on right; she comes forward in front of him. SARAH -- in a very plausible voice. -- Good evening, your reverence. It's a grand fine night, by the grace of God. PRIEST. The Lord have mercy on us! What kind of a living woman is it that you are at all? SARAH. It's Sarah Casey I am, your reverence, the Beauty of Ballinacree, and it's Michael Byrne is below in the ditch. PRIEST. A holy pair, surely! Let you get out of my way. [He tries to pass by. SARAH -- keeping in front of him. -- We are wanting a little word with your reverence. PRIEST. I haven't a halfpenny at all. Leave the road I'm saying. SARAH. It isn't a halfpenny we're ask- ing, holy father; but we were thinking maybe we'd have a right to be getting married; and we were thinking it's yourself would marry us for not a halfpenny at all; for you're a kind man, your reverence, a kind man with the poor.
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PRIEST -- with astonishment. -- Is it mar- ry you for nothing at all? SARAH. It is, your reverence; and we were thinking maybe you'd give us a little small bit of silver to pay for the ring. PRIEST -- loudly. -- Let you hold your tongue; let you be quiet, Sarah Casey. I've no silver at all for the like of you; and if you want to be married, let you pay your pound. I'd do it for a pound only, and that's making it a sight cheaper than I'd make it for one of my own pairs is living here in the place. SARAH. Where would the like of us get a pound, your reverence? PRIEST. Wouldn't you easy get it with your selling asses, and making cans, and your stealing east and west in Wicklow and Wex- ford and the county Meath? (He tries to pass her.) Let you leave the road, and not be plaguing me more. SARAH -- pleadingly, taking money from her pocket. -- Wouldn't you have a little mercy on us, your reverence? (Holding out money.) Wouldn't you marry us for a half a sovereign, and it a nice shiny one with a view on it of the living king's mamma? PRIEST. If it's ten shillings you have, let you get ten more the same way, and I'll marry you then.
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SARAH -- whining. -- It's two years we are getting that bit, your reverence, with our pence and our halfpence and an odd three- penny bit; and if you don't marry us now, himself and the old woman, who has a great drouth, will be drinking it to-morrow in the fair (she puts her apron to her eyes, half sob- bing), and then I won't be married any time, and I'll be saying till I'm an old woman: "It's a cruel and a wicked thing to be bred poor." PRIEST -- turning up towards the fire. -- Let you not be crying, Sarah Casey. It's a queer woman you are to be crying at the like of that, and you your whole life walking the roads. SARAH -- sobbing. -- It's two years we are getting the gold, your reverence, and now you won't marry us for that bit, and we hard-working poor people do be making cans in the dark night, and blinding our eyes with the black smoke from the bits of twigs we do be burning. [An old woman is heard singing tipsily on the left. PRIEST -- looking at the can Michael
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