_Tommy the Song._ I was praying that we might all soon die.

_Paddy c.o.c.kfight._ Die, is it?

_Charlie Ward._ Is it die and all that porter about? Well! you have done enough praying, go over there and look for the basket. Who was it set him praying, I wonder? I am thinking it is the first prayer he ever said in his life.

_Sabina Silver._ It's likely it was Paul. He's after talking to him through the length of an hour.

_Paul Ruttledge._ Maybe it was. Don't mind him. I said just now that when we were all dead and in heaven it would be a sort of drunkenness, a sort of ecstasy. There is a hymn about it, but it is in Latin. "Et calix meus inebrians quam praeclarus est." How splendid is the cup of my drunkenness!

_Charlie Ward._ Well, that is a great sort of a hymn. I never thought there was a hymn like that, I never did.

_Paddy c.o.c.kfight._ To think, now, there is a hymn like that. I mustn't let it slip out of my mind. How splendid is the cup of my drunkenness, that's it.

_Charlie Ward._ Have you found that old bird of mine?

_Tommy the Song._ [_Who has been searching among the baskets._] Here he is, in the basket and a lot of things over it.

_Charlie Ward._ Get out that new speckled bird of yours, Paddy, I've been wanting to see how could he play for a week past.

_Paul Ruttledge._ Where do you get the c.o.c.ks?

_Paddy c.o.c.kfight._ It was a man below Mullingar owned this one. The day I first seen him I fastened my two eyes on him, he preyed on my mind, and next night, if I didn't go back every foot of nine miles to put him in my bag.

_Paul Ruttledge._ Do you pay much for a good fighting c.o.c.k?

_Sabina Silver._ [_Laughs._] Do you pay much, Paddy?

_Paul Ruttledge._ Perhaps you don't pay anything.

_Sabina Silver._ I think Paddy gets them cheap.

_Charlie Ward._ He gets them cheaper than another man would, anyhow.

_Paddy c.o.c.kfight._ He's the best c.o.c.k I ever saw before or since.

Believe me, I made no mistake when I pitched on him.

_Tommy the Song._ I don't care what you think of him. I'll back the red; it's he has the lively eye.

_Molly the Scold._ Andy Farrell had an old c.o.c.k, and it bent double like himself, and all the feathers flittered out of it, but I hold you he'd leather both your red and your speckled c.o.c.k together. I tell ye, boys, that was the c.o.c.k!

[_Uproarious shouts and yells heard outside._

_Charlie Ward._ Those free drinks of yours, Paul, is playing the devil with them. Do you hear them now and every roar out of them? They're putting the c.o.c.ks astray. [_He takes out a c.o.c.k._] Sure they think it's thunder.

_Molly the Scold._ There's not a man of them outside there now but would be ready to knock down his own brother.

_Tommy the Song._ He wouldn't know him to knock him down. They're all blind. I never saw the like of it.

_Paul Ruttledge._ You in here stood it better than that.

_Charlie Ward._ When those common men drink it's what they fall down.

They haven't the heads. They're not like us that have to keep heads and heels on us.

_Paddy c.o.c.kfight._ It's well we kept them out of this, or they'd be lying on the floor now, and there'd be no place for my poor bird to show himself off. Look at him now! Isn't he the beauty! [_Takes out the c.o.c.k._

_Charlie Ward._ Now boys, settle the place, put over those barrels out of that. [_They push barrels into a row at back._] Paul, you sit on the bin the way you'll get a good view.

[_A loud knock at the door. An authoritative voice outside._

_Voice._ Open this door.

_Paddy c.o.c.kfight._ That's Green, the Removable; I know his voice well!

_Charlie Ward._ Clear away, boys. Back with those c.o.c.ks. There, throw that sack over the baskets. Quick, will ye!

_Colonel Lawley._ [_Outside._] Open this door at once.

_Mr. Green._ [_Outside._] I insist on this door being opened.

_Molly the Scold._ What do they want at all? I wish we didn't come into a place with no back door to it.

_Paul Ruttledge._ There's nothing to be afraid of. Open the door, Charlie. [CHARLIE WARD _opens the door_.

_Enter_ MR. GREEN, COLONEL LAWLEY, MR. DOWLER, MR. JOYCE, MR. ALGIE _and_ THOMAS RUTTLEDGE.

_Paddy c.o.c.kfight._ All J.P.'s; I have looked at every one of them from the dock!

_Mr. Green._ Mr. Ruttledge, this is very sad.

_Mr. Joyce._ This is a disgraceful business, Paul; the whole countryside is demoralized. There is not a man who has come to sensible years who is not drunk.

_Mr. Dowler._ This is a flagrant violation of all propriety. Society is shaken to its roots. My own servants have been led astray by the free drinks that are being given in the village. My butler, who has been with me for seven years, has not been seen for the last two days.

_Paul Ruttledge._ I am sure you will echo Mr. Dowler, Algie.

_Mr. Algie._ Indeed I do. I endorse his sentiments completely. There has not been a stroke of work done for the last week. The hay is lying in ridges where it has been cut, there is not a man to be found to water the cattle. It is impossible to get as much as a horse shod in the village.

_Paul Ruttledge._ I think you have something to say, Colonel Lawley?

_Colonel Lawley._ I have undoubtedly. I want to know when law and order are to be re-established. The police have been quite unable to cope with the disorder. Some of them have themselves got drunk. If my advice had been taken the military would have been called in.

_Mr. Green._ The military are not indispensable on occasions like the present. There are plenty of police coming now. We have wired to Dublin for them, they will be here by the four o'clock train.

_Paul Ruttledge._ [_Gets down from his bin._] But you have not told me what you have come here for? Is there anything I can do for you?

_Thomas Ruttledge._ Won't you come home, Paul? The children have been asking for you, and we don't know what to say.