LAVARCHAM. — _breaking out in anger._ — Naisi is it? I didn’t care if the crows were stripping his thigh-bones at the dawn of day. It’s to stop your own despair and wailing, and you waking up in a cold bed, without the man you have your heart on, I am raging now. (_Starting up with temper._) Yet there is more men than Naisi in it; and maybe I was a big fool thinking his dangers, and this day, would fill you up with dread. DEIRDRE. — _sharply._ — Let you end; such talking is a fool’s only, when it’s well you know if a thing harmed Naisi it isn’t I would live after him. (_With distress._) It’s well you know it’s this day I’m dreading seven years, and I fine nights watching the heifers walking to the haggard with long shadows on the grass; (_with emotion_) or the time I’ve been stretched in the sunshine, when I’ve heard Ainnle and Ardan stepping lightly, and they saying: Was there ever the like of Deirdre for a happy and sleepy queen? LAVARCHAM. — _not fully pacified._ — And yet you’ll go, and welcome is it, if Naisi chooses? DEIRDRE. I’ve dread going or staying, Lavarcham. It’s lonesome this place, having happiness like ours, till I’m asking each day will this day match yesterday, and will tomorrow take a good place beside the same day in the year that’s gone, and wondering all times is it a game worth playing, living on until you’re dried and old, and our joy is gone for ever. LAVARCHAM. If it’s that ails you, I tell you there’s little hurt getting old, though young girls and poets do be storming at the shapes of age. (_Passionately._) There’s little hurt getting old, saving when you’re looking back, the way I’m looking this day, and seeing the young you have a love for breaking up their hearts with folly. (_Going to Deirdre._) Take my word and stop Naisi, and the day’ll come you’ll have more joy having the senses of an old woman and you with your little grandsons shrieking round you, than I’d have this night putting on the red mouth and the white arms you have, to go walking lonesome byways with a gamey king. DEIRDRE. It’s little joy of a young woman, or an old woman, I’ll have from this day, surely. But what use is in our talking when there’s Naisi on the foreshore, and Fergus with him? LAVARCHAM. — _despairingly._ — I’m late so with my warnings, for Fergus’d talk the moon over to take a new path in the sky. (_With reproach._) You’ll not stop him this day, and isn’t it a strange story you were a plague and torment, since you were that height, to those did hang their lifetimes on your voice. (_Overcome with trouble; gathering her cloak about her._) Don’t think bad of my crying. I’m not the like of many and I’d see a score of naked corpses and not heed them at all, but I’m destroyed seeing yourself in your hour of joy when the end is coming surely. [_Owen comes in quickly, rather ragged, bows to Deirdre._ OWEN. — _to Lavarcham._ — Fergus’s men are calling you. You were seen on the path, and he and Naisi want you for their talk below.