Deirdre monologue (Act 1) — Deirdre of the Sorrows

— _gathering her things together with an outburst of excitement._ — I will dress like Emer in Dundealgan, or Maeve in her house in Connaught. If Conchubor’ll make me a queen, I’ll have the right of a queen who is a master, taking her own choice and making a stir to the edges of the seas. . . . Lay out your mats and hangings where I can stand this night and look about me. Lay out the skins of the rams of Connaught and of the goats of the west. I will not be a child or plaything; I’ll put on my robes that are the richest, for I will not be brought down to Emain as Cuchulain brings his horse to the yoke, or Conall Cearneach puts his shield upon his arm; and maybe from this day I will turn the men of Ireland like a wind blowing on the heath.