John Eglinton:  (Produces A greencapped dark lantern and flashes it towards A corner:  With carping accent) Esthetics and cosmetics are for the boudoir.  I am out for truth.  Plain truth for a plain man.  Tanderagee wants the facts and means to get them.

(In the cone of the searchlight behind the COALSCUTTLE, OLLAVE, holyeyed,
the bearded figure of Mananaun MACLIR broods, chin on knees.  He rises
slowly.  A cold SEAWIND blows from his druid mouth.  About his head writhe
eels and Elvers.  He is encrusted with weeds and shells.  His right hand
holds A bicycle pump.  His left hand grasps A huge crayfish by its two
talons.)

Mananaun MACLIR:  (With A voice of waves) Aum!  Hek!  Wal!  Ak!  Lub!  Mor!  Ma!  White yoghin of the gods.  Occult pimander of Hermes Trismegistos. (With A voice of whistling SEAWIND) Punarjanam patsypunjaub!  I won’t have my leg pulled.  It has been said by one:  beware the left, the cult of Shakti.  (With A cry of STORMBIRDS) Shakti Shiva, darkhidden Father! (He SMITES with his bicycle pump the crayfish in his left hand.  On its cooperative dial glow the twelve signs of the zodiac.  He wails with the vehemence of the ocean.) Aum!  Baum!  Pyjaum!  I am the light of the homestead!  I am the dreamery creamery butter.

(A skeleton JUDASHAND strangles the light.  The green light wanes to mauve.  The GASJET wails whistling.)

The GASJET:  Pooah!  Pfuiiiiiii!

(Zoe runs to the chandelier and, CROOKING her leg, adjusts the mantle.)

Zoe:  Who has a fag as I’m here?

Lynch:  (Tossing A cigarette on to the table) Here.