SAINT -- [to People.] -- There's little use talking with the like
of him.
MOLLY BYRNE. It's lazy he is, holy father, and not wanting to
work; for a while before you had him cured he was always talking,
and wishing, and longing for his sight.
MARTIN DOUL -- [turning on her.] -- I was longing, surely for
sight; but I seen my fill in a short while with the look of my
wife, and the look of yourself, Molly Byrne, when you'd the queer
wicked grin in your eyes you do have the time you're making game
with a man.
MOLLY BYRNE. Let you not mind him, holy father; for it's bad
things he was saying to me a while back -- bad things for a
married man, your reverence -- and you'd do right surely to leave
him in darkness, if it's that is best fitting the villainy of his
heart.
TIMMY -- [to Saint.] -- Would you cure Mary Doul, your reverence,
who is a quiet poor woman, never did hurt to any, or said a hard
word, saving only when she'd be vexed with himself, or with young
girls would be making game of her below?
SAINT -- [to Mary Doul.] -- If you have any sense, Mary, kneel
down at my feet, and I'll bring the sight again into your eyes.
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