No More Learning

Well, well, what matter?

CONCHUBAR.

You think it does not matter;
And that a fancy lighter than the air,
A whim of the moment has more matter in it.
For having none that shall reign after you,
You cannot think as I do, who would leave
A throne too high for insult.

CUCHULAIN.

Let your children
Re-mortar their inheritance, as we have,
And put more muscle on. --I'll give you gifts,
But I'd have something too--that arm-ring, boy.
We'll have this quarrel out when you are older.

YOUNG MAN.

There is no man I'd sooner have my friend
Than you, whose name has gone about the world
As if it had been the wind; but Aoife'd say
I had turned coward.

CUCHULAIN.

I will give you gifts
That Aoife'll know, and all her people know,
To have come from me. [_Showing cloak. _
My father gave me this.
He came to try me, rising up at dawn
Out of the cold dark of the rich sea.
He challenged me to battle, but before
My sword had touched his sword, told me his name,
Gave me this cloak, and vanished. It was woven
By women of the Country-under-Wave
Out of the fleeces of the sea. O! tell her
I was afraid, or tell her what you will.
No; tell her that I heard a raven croak
On the north side of the house, and was afraid.

CONCHUBAR.

Some witch of the air has troubled Cuchulain's mind.

CUCHULAIN.

No witchcraft. His head is like a woman's head
I had a fancy for.

CONCHUBAR.

A witch of the air
Can make a leaf confound us with memories.
They run upon the wind and hurl the spells
That make us nothing, out of the invisible wind.
They have gone to school to learn the trick of it.

CUCHULAIN.

No, no--there's nothing out of common here;
The winds are innocent.