CONCHUBOR. — _furiously._ — Fergus cannot stop me. I am more powerful than he is, though I am defeated and old. FERGUS. — _comes in to Deirdre; a red glow is seen behind the grove._ — I have destroyed Emain, and now I’ll guard you all times, Deirdre, though it was I, without knowledge, brought Naisi to his grave. CONCHUBOR. It’s not you will guard her, for my whole armies are gathering. Rise up, Deirdre, for you are mine surely. FERGUS. — _coming between them._ — I am come between you. CONCHUBOR. — _wildly._ — When I’ve killed Naisi and his brothers, is there any man that I will spare? And is it you will stand against me, Fergus, when it’s seven years you’ve seen me getting my death with rage in Emain? FERGUS. It’s I, surely, will stand against a thief and a traitor. DEIRDRE. — _stands up and sees the light from Emain._ — Draw a little back with the squabbling of fools when I am broken up with misery. (_She turns round._) I see the flames of Emain starting upward in the dark night; and because of me there will be weasels and wild cats crying on a lonely wall where there were queens and armies and red gold, the way there will be a story told of a ruined city and a raving king and a woman will be young for ever. (_She looks round._) I see the trees naked and bare, and the moon shining. Little moon, little moon of Alban, it’s lonesome you’ll be this night, and tomorrow night, and long nights after, and you pacing the woods beyond Glen Laoi, looking every place for Deirdre and Naisi, the two lovers who slept so sweetly with each other. FERGUS. — _going to Conchubor’s right and whispering._ — Keep back, or you will have the shame of pushing a bolt on a queen who is out of her wits. CONCHUBOR. It is I who am out of my wits, with Emain in flames, and Deirdre raving, and my own heart gone within me. DEIRDRE. — _in a high and quiet tone._ — I have put away sorrow like a shoe that is worn out and muddy, for it is I have had a life that will be envied by great companies. It was not by a low birth I made kings uneasy, and they sitting in the halls of Emain. It was not a low thing to be chosen by Conchubor, who was wise, and Naisi had no match for bravery. It is not a small thing to be rid of grey hairs, and the loosening of the teeth. (_With a sort of triumph._) It was the choice of lives we had in the clear woods, and in the grave, we’re safe, surely. . . . CONCHUBOR. She will do herself harm.