ugly man
to be looking at, I'm thinking your tongue's worse than your view.

MARTIN DOUL -- [hurt also.] -- Isn't it destroyed with the cold I
am, and if I'm ugly itself I never seen anyone the like of you for
dreepiness this day, Timmy the smith, and I'm thinking now herself's
coming above you'd have a right to step up into your old shanty, and
give a rub to your face, and not be sitting there with your bleary eyes,
and your big nose, the like of an old scarecrow stuck down upon the
road.

TIMMY -- [looking up the road uneasily.] She's no call to mind what way
I look, and I after building a house with four rooms in it above on the
hill. (He stands up.) But it's a queer thing the way yourself and Mary
Doul are after setting every person in this place, and up beyond to
Rathvanna, talking of nothing, and thinking of nothing, but the way they
do be looking in the face. (Going towards forge.) It's the devil's
work you're after doing with your talk of fine looks, and I'd do right,
maybe, to step in and wash the blackness from my eyes.

[He goes into forge. Martin Doul rubs his face furtively with the tail
of his coat. Molly Byrne comes on right with a water-can, and begins to
fill it at the well.]

MARTIN DOUL. God save you, Molly Byrne.

MOLLY BYRNE -- [indifferently.] -- God save you.

MARTIN DOUL. That's a dark, gloomy day, and the Lord have mercy on us
all.

MOLLY BYRNE. Middling dark.

MARTIN DOUL. It's a power of dirty days, and dark mornings, and
shabby-looking fellows (he makes a gesture over his shoulder) we do have
to be looking on when we have our sight, God help us, but there's one
fine thing we have, to be looking on a grand, white, handsome girl, the
like of you.... and every time I set my eyes on you I do be blessing the
saints, and the holy water, and the power of the Lord Almighty in the
heavens above.

MOLLY BYRNE. I've heard the priests say it isn't looking on a young girl
would teach many to be saying their prayers. [Bailing water into her can
with a cup.]

MARTIN DOUL. It isn't many have been the way I was, hearing your voice
speaking, and not seeing you at all.

MOLLY BYRNE. That should have been a queer time for an old, wicked,
coaxing fool to be sitting there with your eyes shut, and not seeing a
sight of girl or woman passing the road.

MARTIN DOUL. If it was a queer time itself it was great joy and pride
I had the time I'd hear your voice speaking and you passing to Grianan
(beginn