The 'Nativity' did not appear in time for Christmas acting; but Ireland,
which now and then finds herself possessed of some accidental freedom,
has no censor; and a play so beautiful and reverent, and so much in the
tradition of the people, is sure to be acted and received reverently.

_An Craoibhin_ has written other plays besides these--a pastoral play
which has been acted in Dublin and Belfast, a match-making comedy, a
satire on Trinity College.

Other Irish plays have been acted here and there through the country
during the last year or two, some written by priests; the last I saw in
manuscript was by a workhouse schoolmaster; and all have had their share
of success. But it is to the poet-scholar who has become actor-dramatist
that we must still, as Raftery would put it, 'give the branch.

THE TWISTING OF THE ROPE

HANRAHAN. _A wandering poet._

SHEAMUS O'HERAN. _Engaged to_ OONA.

MAURYA. _The woman of the house._

SHEELA. _A neighbour._

OONA. _Maurya's daughter._

_Neighbours and a piper who have come to Maurya's house for a dance_.

SCENE. _A farmer's house in Munster a hundred years ago. Men
and women moving about and standing round the walls as if they had just
finished a dance._ HANRAHAN, _in the foreground, talking to_
OONA.

_The piper is beginning a preparatory drone for another dance, but_
SHEAMUS _brings him a drink and he stops. A man has come and
holds out his hand to_ OONA, _as if to lead her out, but she
pushes him away._

OONA. Don't be bothering me now; don't you see I'm listening to
what he is saying? (_To_ HANRAHAN) Go on with what you were
saying just now.

HANRAHAN. What did that fellow want of you?

OONA. He wanted the next dance with me, but I wouldn't give it
to him.

HANRAHAN. And why would you give it to him? Do you think I'd
let you dance with anyone but myself, and I here? I had no comfort or
satisfaction this long time until I came here to-night, and till I saw
yourself.

OONA. What comfort am I to you?

HANRAHAN. When a stick is half burned in the fire, does it not
get comfort when water is poured on it?

OONA. But, sure, you are not half burned.

HANRAHAN. I am; and three-quarters of my heart is burned, and
scorched and consumed, struggling with the world, and the world
struggling with me.

OONA. You don't look that bad.

HANRAHAN. O, Oona ni Regaun, you have not knowledge of the life
of a poor bard, without house or home or havings, but he g