It is for some
messenger
who is to bring you to
some spoil, or to some adventure that you will keep for yourselves.
some spoil, or to some adventure that you will keep for yourselves.
Yeats
I am thirsty.
What, the flagon full and the cups empty and
Leagerie and Conal there! Why, what's in the wind that Leagerie and
Conal cannot drink?
LEAGERIE.
It is Cuchulain.
CONAL.
Better go away to Scotland again, or if you stay here ask no one what
has happened or what is going to happen.
CUCHULAIN.
What more is there that can happen so strange as that I should come
home after years and that you should bid me begone?
CONAL.
I tell you that this is no fit house to welcome you, for it is a
disgraced house.
CUCHULAIN.
What is it you are hinting at? You were sitting there with ale beside
you and the door open, and quarrelsome thoughts. You are waiting for
something or someone.
It is for some messenger who is to bring you to
some spoil, or to some adventure that you will keep for yourselves.
LEAGERIE.
Better tell him, for he has such luck that it may be his luck will
amend ours.
CONAL.
Yes, I had better tell him, for even now at this very door we saw what
luck he had. He had the slope of the ground to help him. Is the sea
quiet?
LEAGERIE [_looks out of window_].
There is nothing stirring.
CONAL.
Cuchulain, a little after you went out of this country we were sitting
here drinking. We were merry. It was late, close on to midnight, when a
strange-looking man with red hair and a great sword in his hand came in
through that door. He asked for ale and we gave it to him, for we were
tired of drinking with one another. He became merry, and for every joke
we made he made a better, and presently we all three got up and danced,
and then we sang, and then he said he would show us a new game. He said
he would stoop down and that one of us was to cut off his head, and
afterwards one of us, or whoever had a mind for the game, was to stoop
down and have his head whipped off.
Leagerie and Conal there! Why, what's in the wind that Leagerie and
Conal cannot drink?
LEAGERIE.
It is Cuchulain.
CONAL.
Better go away to Scotland again, or if you stay here ask no one what
has happened or what is going to happen.
CUCHULAIN.
What more is there that can happen so strange as that I should come
home after years and that you should bid me begone?
CONAL.
I tell you that this is no fit house to welcome you, for it is a
disgraced house.
CUCHULAIN.
What is it you are hinting at? You were sitting there with ale beside
you and the door open, and quarrelsome thoughts. You are waiting for
something or someone.
It is for some messenger who is to bring you to
some spoil, or to some adventure that you will keep for yourselves.
LEAGERIE.
Better tell him, for he has such luck that it may be his luck will
amend ours.
CONAL.
Yes, I had better tell him, for even now at this very door we saw what
luck he had. He had the slope of the ground to help him. Is the sea
quiet?
LEAGERIE [_looks out of window_].
There is nothing stirring.
CONAL.
Cuchulain, a little after you went out of this country we were sitting
here drinking. We were merry. It was late, close on to midnight, when a
strange-looking man with red hair and a great sword in his hand came in
through that door. He asked for ale and we gave it to him, for we were
tired of drinking with one another. He became merry, and for every joke
we made he made a better, and presently we all three got up and danced,
and then we sang, and then he said he would show us a new game. He said
he would stoop down and that one of us was to cut off his head, and
afterwards one of us, or whoever had a mind for the game, was to stoop
down and have his head whipped off.
