d-cloaked man stands upon the threshold
against the misty green of the sea; the ground, higher without than
within the house, makes him seem taller even than he is. He leans
upon a great two-handed sword_]

LAEGAIRE

It is too late to shut it, for there he stands once more
And laughs like the sea.

CUCHULAIN

Old herring--You whip off heads! Why, then
Whip off your own, for it seems you can clap it on again.
Or else go down in the sea, go down in the sea, I say,
Find that old juggler Manannan and whip his head away;
Or the Red Man of the Boyne, for they are of your own sort,
Or if the waves have vexed you and you would find a sport
Of a more Irish fashion, go fight without a rest
A caterwauling phantom among the winds of the west.
But what are you waiting for? into the water, I say!
If there's no sword can harm you, I've an older trick to play,
An old five-fingered trick to tumble you out of the place;
I am Sualtim's son Cuchulain--what, do you laugh in my face?

RED MAN

So you too think me in earnest in wagering poll for poll!
A drinking joke and a gibe and a juggler's feat, that is all,
To make the time go quickly--for I am the drinker's friend,
The kindest of all Shape-Changers from here to the world's end,
The best of all tipsy companions. And now I bring you a gift:
I will lay it there on the ground for the best of you all to lift,

[_He lays his Helmet on the ground_]

And wear upon his own head, and choose for yourselves the best.
O! Laegaire and Conall are brave, but they were afraid of my jest.
Well, maybe I jest too grimly when the ale is in the cup.
There, I'm forgiven now--

[_Then in a more solemn voice as he goes out_]

Let the bravest take it up.

[_CONALL takes up Helmet and gazes at it with delight_]

LAEGAIRE

[_Singing, with a swaggering stride_]

Laegaire is best;
Between water and hill,
He fought in the west
With cat heads, until
At the break of day
All fell by his sword,
And he carried away
Their hidden hoard.

[_He seizes the Helmet_]

CONALL

Give it me, for what did you find in the bag
But the straw and the broken delf and the bits of dirty rag
You'd taken for good money?

CUCHULAIN

No, no, but give it me.

[_He takes Helmet_]

CONALL

The Helmet's mine or Laegaire's--you're the youngest of us three.

CUCHULAIN