- Are their minds troubled with joy,
or is their sight uncertain, the way it does often be the day a person
is restored?

TIMMY. It's too certain their sight is, holy father; and they're after
making a great fight, because they're a pair of pitiful shows.

SAINT -- [coming between them.] -- May the Lord who has given you sight
send a little sense into your heads, the way it won't be on your two
selves you'll be looking -- on two pitiful sinners of the earth -- but
on the splendour of the Spirit of God, you'll see an odd time shining
out through the big hills, and steep streams falling to the sea. For if
it's on the like of that you do be thinking, you'll not be minding
the faces of men, but you'll be saying prayers and great praises, till
you'll be living the way the great saints do be living, with little but
old sacks, and skin covering their bones. (To Timmy.) Leave him go now,
you're seeing he's quiet again. (He frees Martin Doul.) And let you (he
turns to Mary Doul) not be raising your voice, a bad thing in a woman;
but let the lot of you, who have seen the power of the Lord, be thinking
on it in the dark night, and be saying to yourselves it's great pity and
love He has for the poor, starving people of Ireland. (He gathers his
cloak about him.) And now the Lord send blessing to you all, for I am
going on to Annagolan, where there is a deaf woman, and to Laragh,
where there are two men without sense, and to Glenassil, where there are
children blind from their birth; and then I'm going to sleep this night
in the bed of the holy Kevin, and to be prais- ing God, and asking great
blessing on you all. [He bends his head.]

CURTAIN

ACT II

[Village roadside, on left the door of a forge, with broken wheels,
etc., lying about. A well near centre, with board above it, and room to
pass behind it. Martin Doul is sitting near forge, cutting sticks.]

TIMMY -- [heard hammering inside forge, then calls.] -- Let you make
haste out there.... I'll be putting up new fires at the turn of day, and
you haven't the half of them cut yet.

MARTIN DOUL -- [gloomily.] -- It's destroyed I'll be whacking your old
thorns till the turn of day, and I with no food in my stomach would keep
the life in a pig. (He turns towards the door.) Let you come out here
and cut them yourself if you want them cut, for there's an hour every
day when a man has a right to his rest.

TIMMY -- [coming out, with a hammer, impatiently.] -- Do you want