_Conan_: Timothy! He has the hearing lost.

_Celia_: Well there is no harm to try him.

_Conan_: (_Going to door_.) Timothy!... There, he's as deaf as a beetle.

_Mother_: It might be best for him. The thing the ear will not hear will not put trouble on the heart.

_Celia_: (_Who has gone out comes pushing him in_.) Here he is now for you.

_Conan_: Did ever you hear of Aristotle?

_Timothy_: Aye?

_Conan_: Aristotle!

_Timothy_: Ere a bottle? I might ...

_Conan_: Aristotle.... That had some power?

_Timothy_: I never seen no flower.

_Conan_: Something he hid near this place.

_Timothy_: I never went near no race.

_Conan_: Has the whole world its mind made up to annoy me!

_Celia_: Raise your voice into his ear.

_Conan_: (_Chanting_.)

"Aristotle in the hour He left Ireland left a power In a gift Eolus gave Could all Ireland change and save!"

_Timothy:_ Would it now?

_Conan:_ You said you had heard of a bottle.

_Timothy:_ A charmed bottle. It is Biddy Early put a cure in it and bestowed it in her will to her son.

_Conan:_ Aristotle that left one in the same way.

_Timothy:_ It is what I am thinking that my old generations used to be talking about a bellows.

_Conan:_ A bellows! There's no sense in that!

_Timothy:_ Have it your own way so, and give me leave to go feeding the little chickens and the hens, for if I cannot hear what they say and they cannot understand what I say, they put no reproach on me after, no more than I would put it on themselves. (_Goes_.)

_Celia:_ Let you be satisfied now and not torment yourself, for if you got the world wide you couldn't discover it. You might as well think to throw your hat to hit the stars.

_Conan:_ You have me tormented among the whole of ye. To be without ye would be no harm at all. (_Sits down and weeps_.) Of all the families anyone would wish to live away from I am full sure my family is the worst.

_Mother:_ Ah, dear, you're worn out and contrary with the want of sleep. Come now into the room and stretch yourself on the bed. To go sleeping out in the gra.s.s has no right rest in it at all! (_Takes his arm_.)

_Conan:_ Where's the use of lying on my bed where it is convenient to the yard, that I'd be afflicted by the turkeys yelping and the pullets praising themselves after laying an egg! and the cackling and hissing of the geese.

_Mother:_ Lie down so on the settle, and I'll let no one disturb you. You're destroyed, avic, with the want of sleep.

_Conan:_ There'll be no peace in this kitchen no more than on the common highway with the people running in and out.

_Mother:_ I'll go sit in the little gap without, and the whole place will be as quiet as St. Colman's wilderness of stones.

_Conan:_ The boards are too hard.

_Mother:_ I'll put a pillow in under you.

_Conan:_ Now it's too narrow. Leave me now it'll be best.

_Mother:_ Sleep and good dreams to you. (_Goes singing sleepy song_.)

_Conan:_ The most troublesome family ever I knew in all my born days! Why is that people cannot have behaviour now the same as in ancient Greece. (_Sits up_.) I'll not give them the satisfaction of going asleep. I'll drink a sup of the tea that is black with standing and with strength.

(_Drinks and lies down_.) I'll engage that'll keep me waking. (_Music heard_.) Is it to annoy me they are playing tunes of music? I'll let on to be asleep! (_Shuts eyes_.)

(_Two large Cats with fiery eyes look over top of settle_.)

_1st Cat:_

See the fool that crossed our path Rummaging within the rath.

Coveting a spell is bound Agelong in our haunted ground.

Hid that none disturb its peace By a Druid out from Greece.

Spies and robbers have no call Rooting in our ancient wall.

Man or mortal what is he Matched against the mighty Sidhe?

_2nd Cat_:

Bid our riders of the night Daze and craze him with affright,

Leave him fainting and forlorn Hanging on the moon's young horn.

Let the death-bands turn him pale Through the venom of our tail.

Let him learn to love our law With the sharpness of our claw.

Let our King-cat's fiery flash Turn him to a heap of ash.