TIMMY -- [seen blinking in doorway.] -- Is it turning now you are
against your sight?
MARTIN DOUL -- [very miserably.] -- It's a hard thing for a man
to have his sight, and he living near to the like of you (he cuts
a stick and throws it away), or wed with a wife (cuts a stick);
and I do be thinking it should be a hard thing for the Almighty
God to be looking on the world, bad days, and on men the like of
yourself walking around on it, and they slipping each way in the
muck.
TIMMY -- [with pot-hooks which he taps on anvil.] -- You'd have a
right to be minding, Martin Doul, for it's a power the Saint
cured lose their sight after a while. Mary Doul's dimming again,
I've heard them say; and I'm thinking the Lord, if he hears you
making that talk, will have little pity left for you at all.
MARTIN DOUL. There's not a bit of fear of me losing my sight,
and if it's a dark day itself it's too well I see every wicked
wrinkle you have round by your eye.
TIMMY -- [looking at him sharply.] -- The day's not dark since
the clouds broke in the east.
MARTIN DOUL. Let you not be tormenting yourself trying to make
me afeard.
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