taken
to Heaven on the last day.

PADNA
The last day! I don't like to think about the last day.

MICUS
Why so?

PADNA
Well, 'tis terrible to think that we might be taken to
Heaven, (_pauses_) an' our parents an' childer might
be sent (_points towards the floor_) with the Protestants.

MICUS
If the Protestants will be as well treated in the next
world as they are in this, I wouldn't mind goin' with
'em meself.

PADNA
I wouldn't like to be a Protestant after I'm dead, Micus.

MICUS (_knocks with his pint on the table and Mrs. Cotter
enters; he points to pints_)
The same again, Mrs. Cotter.

MRS. COTTER
Indeed, ye won't get another drop.

MICUS
This will be our last, ma'am. Don't be hard on us.
'Tis only a night of our lives, an' we'll be all dead
one day.

MRS. COTTER (_as she leaves the room with measures in
hand_)
Ye ought to be ashamed o' yerselves to be seen in
a public house a night like this.

MICUS
We're ashamed o' nothin,' ma'am. We're only ourselves
an' care for nobody.

MRS. COTTER (_turning round_)
Well, this is the very last drink ye'll get then.
[_Exit_.

PADNA
Women are all alike.

MICUS
They are, God forgive them.

PADNA
They must keep talkin'.

MICUS
An' 'tis only a fool that 'ud try to prevent 'em.

MRS. COTTER (_entering and placing measures on table_)
Hurry up, now, an' don't have me at the next Petty
Sessions.
[_Exit_.

MICUS (_after testing drink_)
Nothin' like a good pint o' "Dundon's."

PADNA
'Tis great stuff.

MICUS
May the Lord spare them long, an' they buildin'
houses for the poor an' churches for God!

PADNA
An' all out o' the beer money?

MICUS
Of course. What else could ye make money at in a
country like this?

PADNA
'Tis a thirsty climate!

MICUS
If all those who made money built houses for the poor
an' gave employment, there 'ud soon be no poor at all.

PADNA
You're talkin' what's called socialism now, an' that's
too delicate a plant, like Christianity, to thrive in a
planet like this. So I heard one o' them preacher
chaps sayin' the other evenin'.

MICUS
Well, be all accounts, we're no better off than those
who heard St. Peter himself preachin'. The poor still
only get the promise of Heaven from the clergy.

PADNA
That's all they'll ever get.

MICUS
The world must surely be lost, Padna.

PADNA
Nothin' surer!

MICUS
If God ever goes rummagin' among the stars an' finds
it again, there'll be bad work, I'm thinkin'.

P